Chapter 3 Kingston
KINGSTON
PRESENT DAY
Father strode into my office, sporting a huge grin.
I knew that look. It was the one where he was going to make a suggestion and pretend that I could say yes or no. But the reality was, that no matter what argument I put up, he’d tell me I had to do it.
I closed the laptop and sat back in my chair while steepling my hands. “Father.”
He remained standing, a sign this was no casual visit, but my father always had a purpose. He’d never come in and chat about a football match or suggest going out for lunch.
“Kingston, I have excellent news.”
I kept my expression neutral because I’d fallen into the trap too many times of thinking “excellent” was something fun or beneficial to me. Whatever he had to say would be regarding work and probably involve more of it.
“You’ve been doing a great job as vice-president of Kingston Enterprises.” Yes, I was Kingston the Third. “The board is impressed, and so am I.”
He paused, and I was supposed to thank him for the praise, but I said nothing. I wasn’t in the mood for this. I’d been planning on finishing work and reminiscing when I got home, something I couldn’t discuss with my father because he wasn’t aware of that part of my history.
“When I retire, you’ll be filling my shoes.”
I sat forward. He couldn’t be about to announce his retirement. My father lived and breathed this company he’d created from nothing, and I suspected he’d be here until he breathed his last breath.
He couldn’t have a terminal illness, because while shifters got sick and injured, they were immune to most human ailments.
“Is something wrong?” Father liked, as he put it, pulling a rabbit out of his hat, and I imagined him telling me he’d created a new company headquartered at the South Pole and he’d booked me a passage on an icebreaker tonight.
“No.” He clasped his hands behind his back and stood near the window, staring at people thirty floors below. “But there's something we need to discuss.”
I tensed and wondered if I needed a visa for the Antarctic.
“Most clients prefer the CEO to be settled.”
I braced myself for what was coming next.
“And mated.”
“Father, we’ve talked about this. If and when I meet my fated mate, you’ll be the first to know.”
That’s a lie.
Well, yes, I can’t tell him our mate is human, a bartender, and he vanished without a trace.
I’d searched for Merrick. Soon after he disappeared, I’d returned to the bar and one of the other guys had told me where he lived. But he’d packed up his things and left no forwarding address. I’d checked social media and searched through employment sites where people looked for bar work.
And in my mind, I feared he’d hidden himself away because he wanted nothing to do with me. But that was extreme. He could have said he wasn’t looking for anything serious. He didn’t have to put himself in witness protection.
“And I have a foolproof way for you to find that one special shifter.” He flourished a cream envelope from his jacket that was embossed with gold. “You'll be attending this.”
There was no need to ask what that envelope contained. It was an invitation to the Shifter Christmas Matching Ball. A pixie named Bex organized it every year, and she supposedly had a talent for finding and matching fated mates.
I’d never attended, but shifter social media was flooded with talk about this ball every Christmas.
To some unmated shifters, it was the highlight of their year, while others feared not finding their mate and disappointing their families.
There was also a third group who enjoyed their singledom and dreaded being forced to attend the ball.
I fit into none of those categories.
“Father, no.”
“Kingston, you have a board, shareholders, and clients who expect stability from the top of the company on down.”
“I’ll find my mate when the universe decrees it and not because the company demands it.” My tone booked no argument, but Father waved my words away.
“This isn’t a request, Son.”
I wanted to scream that I’d found my mate and lost him and I never wanted to be without him.
“If you want to take over the company you must be mated.”
“Love, Father. I’ll mate for love, not because a pixie thinks she’s found my fated mate.”
I worried that Bex would somehow use magic to twist a connection into a fated match and the omega would mark me before I could protest. Gods, that would be worse than the hell I was living in.
“Love.” His sneering tone was a reminder he put little faith in love.
He and my omega dad were fated mates, but their connection had faded and almost severed over the years.
He looked at his friends’ and siblings' relationships, and his bitterness came from his dissatisfaction with his own relationship.
In the years since I’d seen Merrick, I’d thrown myself first into my studies and then work. I was at the office seven days a week because there was nothing to go home to, though today, I’d been planning on wallowing.
Father had no idea of the time and money I’d spent searching for my mate. Not looking for a person I’d never met but one I’d grown to know and love over a semester.
“I’m not interested in attending a matchmaking ball.” I could go to thousands of them and it would make no difference.
Father swiveled around and hissed, “Then you’re not ready to head this company.”
“What if I never meet my fated mate? What then?”
“Something can be arranged.” He strode out the door and didn’t bother to close it.
I studied the invitation and ran my fingers over my name on the envelope. It was mocking me, telling me I was a fool. But I knew that, and so did Merrick, and he liked fools.
Resting my head on the desk, I was tempted to let the tears fall, but I couldn’t let my employees see me cry.
It would get back to Father, and there would be questions and inferences that I wasn’t the right person to succeed him.
I didn’t give a damn about the job. It meant nothing when Merrick was out there somewhere living his life without me.
I’d tortured myself that he’d met and married in the years since we’d seen one another.
My fingers found the handle on the bottom desk drawer.
I kept it locked because no one was to discover what I brought from home every morning and took with me when I left in the evening.
Using the key I kept around my neck, I unlocked it and brought out Merrick’s shirt.
It still had a trace of his scent, and I lifted it to my face and inhaled.
Thinking back to that last night at the bar, I recalled the shots he’d poured me and how we’d kissed on the stairs near my room. How I refused to wash my sheets until my roommate had snatched them when I was at class and taken them to the laundry. He almost got a bloody nose for that.
I fingered the invitation. The cardstock was expensive.
Bex had gone all out, and I expected the ballroom to be adorned with feathers and finery and every surface brushed with gold.
Masks were optional apparently. I was ready to toss it in the trash, but Father returned, striding through the open door without a greeting.
“The family and the board expect you to attend the ball. Besides, invitations are sought-after, and Bex would be offended if you don’t go.”
He was exhausting, and he wouldn’t give up, until I agreed.
I was tired of fighting him. I could do this one thing, but when I didn’t find my mate, Father would arrange a soothsayer, and when they didn’t produce a mate, he’d have me examined in case my scent was at fault.
Nothing I did would ever be good enough until I was mated and marked.
Tired of making excuses, I held up the invitation and said I’d go. And what did it matter? It was one ball. I wouldn’t find a mate, and I’d wear a mask and steer clear of Bex and her magic.
Father nodded and left, and I tucked the invitation into my jacket pocket and turned back to my laptop. At least the open bar would make the evening tolerable.