6. ALEX
6
ALEX
W hen I walked into my office at the end of the week, Dad stood at the full-length windows overlooking the waterfront.
He wore a tailored suit, his posture upright, hands clasped behind his back. His beard was neatly trimmed, his salt-and-pepper hair neatly combed back.
From the day my parents had adopted me, my dad had always been like this—dressed immaculately, serious about the image he put out to the world.
“Ah,” he said and turned to me. “There you are.”
“Did we have an appointment?” I checked my wristwatch.
“No, no. Can’t a father drop by and visit his sons?” He smiled at me, the creases around his eyes fanning out. His eyes were a slate gray, the eyes of someone who knew a lot about life but he never acted superior or condescending. Hell of a feat for a man who’d started an empire and had more money than most of the wealthy men in the States combined.
But Thomas Blackwood had always been the kind of man to see others for who they really were and put them first.
Both my parents were like that. Of all the households I could have been adopted into, I was fucking lucky it had been this one.
“How did your meeting with the investors go? Chris said it was at the beginning of the week.” I walked to the wet bar in the corner and poured us each a drink. It wasn’t even noon yet, but I could do with a drink after that meeting.
“Fine. They’re happy with Chris’s ideas, of course. They always are.”
“I’ve never seen someone design yachts the way he does,” Dad agreed, nodding. “Magic fingers. But all you Blackwood boys are like that. Magic in your veins… it must run in the family.” He grinned, and I couldn’t help but smile.
My parents had always talked about us as if we’d been born into this family, as if we actually had Blackwood blood in our veins. I was pretty damn sure that if someone came up to my dad and pointed out that we were adopted he would have fallen flat on his back in shock.
They’d made us feel like we were everything from day one, even if it had been a rough ride at times.
My smile faded again.
“What’s up?” Dad crossed his ankle over his knee, sitting back in the armchair he’d made himself comfortable in. I handed him the whiskey tumbler and sat down in the other armchair rather than sitting behind my desk. I sipped my whiskey before I answered.
“The meeting went well, but I worry.”
“About?”
“It’s a rat race out there.”
Dad nodded slowly. “It’s not easy being on top. What did they say that’s eating at you?”
“You’ve heard about the activist campaign? The news doing the rounds…”
“I’ve heard.” Dad swirled his drink in his glass. “Something to do with yacht emissions.”
“Right.” I sipped my whiskey. “They wanted to know what we were going to do about it.”
“And?”
I shrugged. “Chris told them we always focus on sustainability and being eco-friendly, all that bullshit that they need to hear.”
“Chris does make sure things are all above board,” Dad pointed out.
“I know, I know. I’m not suggesting we’re doing anything wrong per se. But yachts have emissions once they’re produced, no matter how much we focus on the environmental standards, and that’s the part I worry about. Electric cars are a thing now; going green is the buzzword the influencers are dropping left and right, but we don’t have solar power yachts or electric ports where they can charge up after a cruise.”
Dad chuckled and shook his head.
“It’s a lot of pressure, that’s all. We assured the investors that we’re a niche company and that the activists will likely target the industry giants.”
Dad studied me. “You don’t sound convinced about that fact.”
“I’m not.” I sighed. “I’m worried that it won’t work out that way. I can tell them that I don’t think anything will come of it, but a yacht is a yacht. How we make them won’t change that they’re being made, and the truth is it might screw us over at some point.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Well, even the most environmentally friendly yachts still have emissions, which means that no matter which way we look at it, there will be something for them to latch onto. And the public opinion is a big one—we might be niche, like we told them, but if we fall under the umbrella of superyachts and we’re selling opulence, then we still fall under the broader concept of conspicuous consumption.”
Dad nodded slowly. “I see where you’re coming from. We might even be lumped under the same net as those who really fuck it up because we’re in the same business.”
“Right, again affecting public perception.” I scrubbed my hand down my face. “That’s exactly what I’m worried about. We have a lot on the line here. We’re doing well, but public opinion can change that very quickly, and in the end, there’s a lot of stigma surrounding opulence.”
“It’s ridiculous,” Dad said and threw back the rest of his whiskey, blowing out a heavy sigh through his nose. “Just because we have money doesn’t mean we cut corners to get it.”
That was exactly how I felt about it, too. We’d been brought into a life of privilege, and I would always be grateful for that. Money wasn’t something I took for granted, and our whole family—even my mom—had worked our fingers to the bone to get where we were.
But the rest of the world didn’t always see it that way. It was so easy to paint us in a bad light just because we didn’t want for anything. We had everything money could buy.
Dad stood and walked to the spot I’d found him in at the window. He ran his fingers over his beard while he looked out over the city.
“What do you propose we do about this?” He turned a little and looked at me over his shoulder.
“I don’t know yet. We have to do something . We can’t just let this slide. I want to look into our environmental responsibility, balance it out with profitability. Whatever we do, it can’t be behind the scenes now. Usually, we don’t show the rest of the world how we do things because, quite frankly, it’s none of their business, but we’re going to have to be more transparent if we don’t want someone to start pointing fingers just because of the market we’re in.”
Dad continued to stroke his beard before he smiled.
“I like the way you think, Alex. You’re looking at it from a different angle. That’s what good business is about.”
I couldn’t help but beam inwardly at the compliment. There was nothing more rewarding than my dad being proud of me when I’d taken over a company he’d started.
“I’m just worried about what it will mean for the investors,” I added.
“What do you mean?”
“Not everyone likes the idea of being transparent. It has a lot of downsides.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and drained my whiskey glass. I was tempted to get up and pour another, but drowning my sorrows never saved a company.
“I’m sure it will be fine. They’ll recognize what you’re trying to do. Your investors all have good heads on their shoulders.”
Dad checked his watch. “I should go. I have a few things to take care of and I’m taking your mother out tonight.”
I smiled. “You’re adorable.”
Dad rolled his eyes. “Happy wife, happy life.”
I laughed. “I know that’s not what this is. You’re head-over-heels in love with her.”
“As I should be,” Dad said and fastened his blazer button. “She’s everything. She has been since the day I met her. Let me know if there’s anything you need from me. And keep me posted.”
“I will.” I stood, too, so I could see him off.
Dad put a hand on my shoulder. “Your concerns are valid, son. But nothing has happened yet. It’s good to be prepared, but you don’t always have to expect the worst.”
“It’s better than being disappointed,” I suggested.
Dad shrugged. “I think there are different ways of looking at it. Just remember, no matter what… this is just a company. A business. It doesn’t define you.”
I nodded, and my dad left my office. When he shut the door behind him, I sagged into the armchair again.
It was easy enough to say that the company didn’t define me, but the truth was it did . It was all I had to show for my existence here on Earth.
I didn’t date, I doubted I would ever have a family, and date nights after forty years of marriage wasn’t on the cards for me the way it was for my parents. They’d hit the proverbial pot of gold with each other and their relationship was beautiful, but it didn’t always work that way.
Settling down, finding a woman… I was far better at running a company.
My mind drifted to Charlotte, but I shut that thought down the moment it appeared. I was not going to think about her in the same sentence as talking about settling down. She was Gabe’s sister.
My phone rang, snapping me out of my thoughts.
Gabe’s name flashed on my caller ID.
Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Or think about him, in this case.
“Hey, man,” I said when I answered the phone.
“What’s up? You’re quiet even on the group.”
We had an IM group with the guys on it, where we sent each other dirty jokes, talked shit, planned booze-filled boys’ nights, and on the odd occasion, talked about a girl. The latter didn’t happen very often since most of my friends were single and living the high life of fucking and forgetting.
“It’s been a hell of a week,” I said. “A lot of shit at work. You know the drill.”
Gabe snorted. “I don’t think I’ll ever know the drill when it comes to you and your company. You Blackwoods are all workaholics. I don’t have a girlfriend because I haven’t found the right one yet. You don’t have one because you’re married to that fucking company.”
He guffawed at his own joke, and I laughed along but I wasn’t amused.
“How has your week been?” I turned the conversation on Gabe instead.
“Easier than yours, I’m sure.”
Gabe didn’t have as much money as the Blackwoods did, but he earned a pretty decent salary working in IT. He’d helped work on some kind of security system for a bank that stopped hackers from getting into a database, and they’d paid him so much money he could have afforded a much higher life if he didn’t drink it all out every weekend.
Booze was expensive.
“I’ve been taking time off to spend with Charlie, actually,” Gabe said. “Showing her the city, seeing the sights, you know? She’s decided she’s staying in Newport, so I want her to feel right at home.”
The moment he mentioned Charlotte, my stomach twisted. God, I’d been such a fucked-up friend. I hadn’t known it, obviously, but that didn’t change the fact that I’d slept with my best friend’s sister.
“You still haven’t had a chance to meet her,” Gabe said.
Right.
“We should arrange something. Maybe go out for a couple of drinks, hang out and barbecue, or do something where you’re not always looking at your phone for work. What do you think?”
“About hanging out?”
I could practically hear Gabe rolling his eyes. I was trying to be evasive.
“About meeting Charlie.”
“Oh, right,” I said. “Sure, whatever you want to do. Let me know, and I’ll see if I can make it.”
“Geez, don’t sound keen.” I heard the smirk in his voice. “I’ll arrange something and let you know. But seriously, don’t work yourself to death before then.”
“Can’t make any promises,” I said with a grin.
“Yeah, yeah, I know what you’re like. You don’t make promises, but I’m not one of the girls you kick out of your bed in the morning.”
I chuckled. “Thank God for that.”
“Yeah, would be awkward,” Gabe said. “I’ll call you later when I’ve decided.”
We ended the call, and I dropped the phone in my lap. That had been horrible. Talking to Gabe about Charlotte was harder than it should have been because I felt like complete shit for betraying my best friend that way.
Again, not on purpose, but that didn’t change the fact it had happened.
The right thing to do would be to tell him, but I wasn’t ready for that.
Too much was going on right now. I wanted one place where I could go that didn’t have stress chasing me down the moment I considered having some fun. Besides, what did it matter? It was a one-off thing. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t like we were going to do it again.
We would be just like strangers. Easy as pie, right?