Chapter 14 Rafael
Rafael
‘How about the Leyton account? Did you get that one?’
I lean back on my office couch, urging the blood in my veins to cool to a simmer, instead of the inferno that’s threatening to ravage through them.
‘It’s being handled,’ I tell my father, keeping my voice calm and even.
A hint of hesitation and he’ll be on it like a shark with a drop of blood.
Not that he has any need to be. The Leyton account is being handled.
There’s nothing for him to pick fault with.
Yet I’m still tense to the point of discomfort as I wait for him to find something to criticise.
He leans forward in his seat opposite me, eyes of a brilliant and ruthless – albeit retired – businessman gleaming back at me.
‘You made sure they signed? Got it all watertight?’
‘Of course I did. I learnt from you, didn’t I?’
‘You did, son.’ He smiles for the first time since he waltzed into my office, freshly back from another spiritual health retreat.
My mother told him when people retire their chance of a sudden death skyrockets unless they keep themselves busy.
My father would have happily used it as a reason to return to the family business, but Mum said she’d waited long enough to spend some quality time with him.
It was bougie-sounding trips together, or divorce.
And for all my father’s bullish personality in business, with my mother he’s a puppy dog.
He adores the earth she walks on and insists he only ever worked as hard and as long as he did because he wanted to give her everything she dreamt of, and for his children to learn how to excel in life.
It doesn’t stop him ‘checking in’ on me every chance he gets, though. My siblings escape his in-depth interrogations about the business because they’re neither the eldest, nor the CEO.
‘Rafe has it handled, Stan. Stop fussing,’ my mother chides. ‘They’re all doing a great job. Have more faith.’
‘Faith. Hm.’ My father grunts at her word choice.
‘I do love what the designers have done!’ my mother exclaims brightly, looking around the room.
I press my lips tightly together, following her gaze, avoiding the giant windows to my left that show the view all the way from here to the Thames.
Forty floors up, it’s a view that costs millions.
And it’s one I loathe. If I had my way, the shades would be permanently closed.
But not when my father’s here. When he’s here, they’re wide open, despite the fact the view makes my stomach roil.
I can’t give him any more reasons to think I’m incapable, or worse . . . weak.
‘I fancied a change,’ I say. I’ve had enough of seeing disappointment in my father’s eyes. I don’t need him to know my newly designer-renovated office is the consequence of a tube of crisps, and the urge to prove a certain infuriating blonde wrong.
I’ve not seen much of Aurora since the fire-alarm incident. I’ve been out of the office for much of the time, meeting with clients. She only has three weeks of her contract left, and I’m no closer to getting my money back.
My mother brings her hands together, the bangles on her wrists jangling. ‘And how are things with you, darling? How’s Seraphina?’
The hope in her eyes makes my gut churn. I’m used to my father being disappointed in me, but I’d do anything to keep that same look out of my mother’s eyes. Do anything not to cause her pain. Again.
‘Seraphina’s busy being Seraphina,’ I reply, keeping my tone non-committal.
My mother beams, and even my father joins in.
‘It’s incredible how well she’s doing,’ she continues. ‘So wonderful to see intelligent women being celebrated for their achievements.’
‘She’s a very smart woman,’ I agree.
‘Indeed.’ My mother’s cheeks glow as she gives my father a knowing look. If I didn’t love her so much then I’d scrape the hope straight from her face without hesitation.
‘Harold says she’s excited for the wedding,’ my father says.
I shift forward in my seat. ‘Wedding?’
‘The Beaufort one,’ my father adds. ‘It’s in South Africa, right?’
‘That’s right.’ I look between the two of them as they exchange more knowing glances.
‘Harold said you’d invited Seraphina,’ Mum says.
My poker face comes into full play as I digest this news. I mentioned the wedding to Seraphina at dinner a couple of weeks ago, and she said she’d love to go with me if I needed a plus one. But I never accepted her offer. I was too busy watching Aurora across the room with her loser ex.
‘Maybe you’ll be coming home with your own news.’ My father hitches both brows.
They’ve wanted nothing more than for me to get married and start producing grandchildren.
My mother’s made no secret of the fact she can’t wait to do the whole bedtime story and baking cakes thing.
And my father no doubt sees it as a second chance to this time successfully mould a miniature version of himself of whom he can actually be proud.
But I’ve vowed never to get to that point with anyone.
Dating, sex, it’s all fine. Anything that keeps women at arm’s length, where they won’t cry over me if something were to happen with my—
‘Ooh, yes!’ my mother squeals excitedly. ‘One of these days soon a woman will have your heart, darling. Mark my words.’
‘Maybe.’ My smile is tight. If she knew I hadn’t so much as kissed Seraphina anywhere other than her cheek, I don’t think she’d be looking so ready to dust off her wedding hat.
Movement in the corridor outside my office catches my attention.
Aurora walks past with Steve from underwriting, her head tilted back, laughing at something he’s said.
I grind my teeth together and suck in a breath through my nose.
Even the sight of the powder-blue pencil skirt I bought for her, artfully wrapped around her hips and arse, can’t dowse the flare of outrage that seeing her laughing with him has brought.
‘You’re angry with the world.’ That’s what she told me.
Her words that resulted in me getting my hand stuck in a bloody crisp tube in order to prove a point.
She thinks she knows me. But if she’s so bloody smart she’d know I’m not a man who’s angry at the world.
Why would I need to be when my anger is so much more effective when it’s aimed towards myself instead?
Aurora Thorne has no idea of the lion’s den she’s walked into by working here.
It’s time I stopped allowing myself to become distracted by blue eyes and tight little skirts and start remembering what she did.
I have two hundred and forty million reasons to remember.
Who the hell cares if Bad Suit Steve makes her laugh?
The only interest I have in her is vengeance.
It’s time to make her pay. The begging starts now.
My dick stirs and I ignore it. The idea of her begging has become an obsession that’s threatening to take over.
To derail the one thing that actually matters.
My money. And finding out what happened to it.
Recovering my dented pride is the bow on the package.
I’m not so pig-headed that I don’t understand that it’s also about that – my pride.
Reaffirming to myself that I can do this.
I can be the CEO Fairfax Guardian needs me to be after the colossal fuck-up I made in my early days.
And making sure that my father never has a reason to look at me again like I’ll be this firm’s downfall.
Like I’m weak.
This stops now. An obsession for revenge is one thing, but an obsession with Aurora Thorne in general? That’s just madness. I need to stop watching bloody fashion vlogs and wanking alone in my office like a sad loser. It’s time I had actual sex again. With a woman I don’t hate.
I turn my attention back to my parents, matching their smiles with one of my own.
‘I’m looking forward to some time away with Seraphina. I’m sure she’ll love Cape Town.’