Chapter 53 Conrad
Conrad
Three days after Malena confronted her, President Packham resigned. The article was all anyone could talk about.
I picked the paper up from the coffee table in my condo.
Poisoned Ivy: Two upperclassmen at the prestigious Winchester University unravel a forgery scheme
My eyes fell to the byline. Conrad Hastings I couldn’t help it. “That’s nice, Dad.”
“You could be a little more accommodating, I am trying to—”
“Get on my good side because Mom is going through with the divorce?”
Another sharp silence fell over the room. I had a feeling that was the real reason. He needed some good will on his side, and I was the only one she liked.
He shifted in his seat. “I came here to tell you in person. I’m going to be spending the next year or so overseeing the London offices. Your mother asked that I go.”
Oh no, were these the consequences of his own actions? I grinned. “Did she?”
“Yes, and I can’t seem to get her to rethink this divorce, so I will respect her request.” Regret laced the last few words.
Good. I hoped it hurt.
“I’m sure your mistress will be so pleased.”
His jaw flexed. “This summer, Barrett will be taking over all operations at Hastings Media.”
My brows jumped. My dad was painfully predictable.
One thing he loved to do was toy with my older brothers, let each think they had a chance at leading but never give up even a shred of his power.
I never actually expected him to pick a successor.
I’d honestly always assumed Tripp would just have him killed. “Okay…”
“It would be a good opportunity to learn about the inner workings of the company before you go to business school in the fall.”
“So, you…” I muttered in confusion.
Was he… trying? He’d picked a successor, he was being agreeable toward my mother. Was he… apologetic?
A part of me basked in this, watching that man finally get what he deserved.
“I’m here hoping you’ll do it. But it’s your choice. Spend the summer there or gallivant with your friends like you always do.”
No threats.
Bewildered, I wondered what I wanted. As much as I hated to admit it, the idea of a summer working there—knowing he wouldn’t be around—didn’t sound terrible.
“Someone should probably keep an eye on Barrett,” I mused casually. A curt smile shoved against his cheeks. I didn’t want or care for his approval, yet having it felt admittedly nice. “I’m sure somewhere in Manhattan, Tripp is plotting his murder.”
The lines along his forehead dug even deeper and he barked a laugh that spilled over into a rolling chuckle. He coughed and cleared his throat as he stood up, transforming back into the slab of granite I was used to.
He didn’t say anything, just gave me an oddly affectionate pat on the shoulder and walked to the door.
“I don’t know how to be anything other than this.
” He stopped in the doorway. An acknowledgement that he was never a father, never a husband, not even all that good of a man.
That he was the person his father raised him to be: the Hastings Media heir.
It felt like advice as much as it did a warning. “But I hope you do.”
The administration building loomed like a gothic cathedral in the gray December sky. Snow coated the sidewalks and grass in a thin layer of white, and while the heavier snowfall had begun to die down, a few flurries still peppered the air.
I caught Malena right as she was coming down the steps.
“When were you going to tell me that I was the lead writer on the byline?” I threw the scarf I brought with me around her shoulders and looped it twice.
“I wasn’t.” She looked up at me impishly. “You’d have tried to be chivalrous or something and stopped me. Come on, Con. Admit it: none of this would have happened without you.”
“I’m sure you would have found a way to blackmail James.”
“Probably. But you’re cuter.” She tugged at my jacket. “I mean it. I wish you could see yourself the way I do.”
“Handsome, right?” I brushed my lips against hers.
Her voice distilled down to a serious note. “Remarkable.”
My heart stumbled and I didn’t know how to respond to that. So, I kissed her. Deep and slow.
“Con…” She pulled away, her cheeks and the tip of her nose a little red.
Our breath mingled together, making a tiny cloud in the cold air.
“Sorry.” I leaned my head against hers and kissed her again, a quick one this time. I kept forgetting the no-PDA-around-faculty rule.
“No, you’re not.”
“Nope.” I circled my arms around her waist. “How was the meeting?”
Malena met with the heads of Winchester’s administration board to discuss the article.
She’d insisted on going alone, but had recorded it for an added layer of protection.
They’d assured her it wasn’t punitive, rather congratulatory, and a way to find out if they needed to cover their asses for any future articles.
“Great.” Mal practically glowed. “They did ask that the next time I discover a forgery scheme at the school, I go to them first.”
“And you said…”
She jutted her chin up defiantly. “I’d consider it.”
I chuckled. “You’re sort of a big deal, you know. That article is making waves.”
“Oh, I know.” She lifted to her toes, excitedly tapping her hands on my chest. “I submitted it to the Keller Committee.”
Relief moved down my body. Originally, all of this chaos was in pursuit of that award. “Really?”
“Yeah, I submitted the article as my piece, hoping they wouldn’t mind, or at least make an exception. They accepted it.” She linked her arm in mine, and we walked over to the café where she was meeting Cora. “And I’ve decided to take the writing seminar over the summer.”
“How did you get all that done in one morning?”
She laughed, light and joyful. “I stopped by the paper on Monday to see if it would even be possible. Dillian knows one of the lecturers and got me in last minute, under the condition that I complete the prerequisite assignment. I only just found out.”
The realization that we’d be together in the city for the summer hit me all at once. “If the Alders’ house gets stuffy, you can stay with me in the city.”
She looked up at me, her eyebrows almost at her hairline.
“I’ll be working at Hastings Media.”
If you could distill the words I told you so into a look, it was the one currently on Malena’s face.
“That ne’er-do-well reputation is done for,” she teased.
Yeah. So was I. The second she barged into my life because I stood between her and something she wanted. And, fuck, I was never so grateful to have been in the way.