Chapter 6
DARCY
I never in a million years expected Warren to show up here.
I was sure if he signed the paper, he would’ve sent a courier like I told him to. Guess he has Father’s stubborn streak.
Though, he can’t be too stubborn. He showed up ready to work, ready to learn and accept his birthright.
But the poor guy still looks incredibly out of his depth, and I’ve barely scraped the surface of what this position entails. The thing is, it sounds simple to begin with. Manage the business and make sure to turn over a profit, but a conglomerate is so much more than that.
Most of our time together so far has been me trying to explain to Warren what we do. He may have majored in business, but he hasn’t used anything he learned there for a long time, and what they cover in college barely touches on an operation as large as this one.
MediaCorp is the parent company, and we have a multitude of smaller media- and news-based businesses that we own.
They’re tied to us, but most people wouldn’t know unless they looked it up.
Most of the media that people consume is by us, which means whoever is sitting in my seat has a world of power at their disposal.
This job is about so much more than processes. Without the right ethics in place, it can be dangerous. The general population unquestionably believe what they see on television and news sites online, so making sure the businesses we own are only reporting on facts is incredibly important to me.
Warren takes control of the wireless trackpad to the computer on my desk. I have a much larger screen on the wall behind me, but I don’t use it for confidential information in case nosy people are walking by. He clicks on my calendar, and I swear his eyeballs almost fall out.
“Are these all meetings?”
“Hmm … you’re right. I better cancel a few of the ones for today.”
I reach for the trackpad, and as Warren hands it over, his large fingers brush the side of mine, sending ripples over my skin. His hands are callused, rough, bigger and wider than mine.
I swipe my suddenly dry lips with my equally dry tongue and tug my eyes back to the screen to send Avery a chat about blocking out the rest of my day. Probably should do the entire week, if I’m honest, but given the permanently perplexed look on Warren’s face today, I doubt he’ll be back.
“I wasn’t just talking about today.” He swallows. “That’s a lot.”
“It might look that way, but it isn’t really.
Most of these meetings are direct reports, which I don’t have to do a great deal to prepare for.
It’s only them passing on information. Occasionally, if there’s an issue, we’ll need to investigate, but I have a lot of departments.
I— we —have the benefit of multiple layers of management before things hit our desk.
Is it stressful? Of course. Busy? Constantly.
There are stakeholders to keep happy, which means making sure we do everything to expand, turn a profit, and prevent shares from taking a dive. ”
“Yeah, I get all that.” He stretches his hands over his head. “But I figured there’d be some kind of checklist you’d have on what needs to be done each day and show me how to do those jobs, and that’d be it. This—” He waves his hand vaguely through the air. “This is going to take forever.”
I offer what I hope is a supportive smile. “Probably, but is that such a bad thing?”
“I only took three months off work.”
His response makes me want to laugh. Work ?
By that point, the entire will should have been actioned, and he’ll have enough money to never need to work another day in his life.
My—our—younger brothers were furious when they saw what he received.
For the rest of us, our fortunes are tied into property and trusts, along with the money we earn working here.
We weren’t exactly shafted, given the earning potential over our lifetimes, but speaking to Junior makes it seem as though our father was underhanded.
If anything, he probably wanted Warren to have the same opportunities in life that we did and assumed Warren would never step foot into these offices.
My gaze strays to Warren again. To his shaved hair and thick neck, skin tanned and freckled from working in the sun.
His jawline is hidden by a short beard, but I can tell it’s wide and severely square, just like Father’s.
Like Junior’s and Tobias’s. I clear my throat and run my fingers over my slightly softer features. Features that are all Mom.
“You have your ear pierced,” I say.
“And?”
“I like it.”
He throws me a curious look from the corner of his eye. “So get yours done.”
I try to imagine it. “Somehow, I don’t think that’s on the cards for me.”
“Dude, look around. Everything is on the cards for you.”
“Is that bitterness I hear? Because if I have to remind you that all this is yours as well, I’m going to consider whether we have you tested for dementia.”
Warren scowls, hand scuffing up his hair as he leans right back in his chair.
He has damp patches under his arms, probably from nerves, given he’s sitting so close I can smell his deodorant from here.
It’s masculine. Just like everything about him.
Tall, wide, construction muscles filling out his button-up, and with how wide his feet are planted, his thighs are straining against his faded jeans.
As much as I look after myself and my fitness, I’ll never look like that.
But maybe in an alternate life, I would have. If Father had chosen his mother, where would that have left me? My other grandparents are incredibly rich, but finding out Mother was pregnant and not married would have been too much of an embarrassment for them to deal with.
There’s no way my mother could have gone to work like his did. She wouldn’t have been able to support us. Maybe things turned out for the best.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks.
And it takes me a second to realize I’m staring again. “Ah, it’s, uh … you know. This whole thing is strange.” I swallow and log out of my computer. “Maybe we should get up and walk around. I’ll introduce you to people.”
His face pales.
It makes me laugh and find my confidence again. “By now, they all probably know who you are anyway. Warren Ritcherson-Porter .”
“Wouldn’t have had to say that if you’d put my name on the list, dick.”
“Would have put your name on the list if you hadn’t been so adamant about never stepping foot in here. Dick.”
Warren rolls his eyes, but there’s something about the way he keeps rubbing his beefy thighs that is radiating nerves.
“Okay, no meeting people,” I say, standing. “At least, officially. I have an idea.”
“What’s that?”
“You’ll see.”
“This is a whole lot of trust so early in our relationship,” he says but follows me anyway. For someone who so outspokenly doesn’t want to be here, he’s being oddly compliant.
“Schedule is cleared, Darcy,” Avery says almost the second I step out of the office.
From where it looks like she’s been hovering, waiting for me.
Considering she rarely checks in for anything that isn’t urgent, I know exactly what she’s doing.
“Av, this is W-ren.”
He looks confused by my fumble, and honestly, so am I.
But when I tried to say Father’s name, it just …
hadn’t come out. Which is ridiculous when everyone’s probably already circulated his name and knows who he is, but something in my brain went nope , and the name got stuck.
Maybe my subconscious wants him to feel more at ease here than I realized.
“And Wren is …”
Apparently, now I’m the one who needs to be treated for dementia because I open my mouth and—nothing.
Warren steps forward, hand out, and Avery shakes it. “I’m his brother,” he says.
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Ah, you’re the one who’s been making my Google alerts go crazy. You look different than in your pap shots. Is it true you were also a child star?”
Warren glances back at me. “You have Google alerts on me?”
“Yes. All of our companies have a gag order on you, your mother, and about our father’s affair, but we can’t stop other news sites from publishing things about you.”
His lips press together tightly, and even though Avery’s been my assistant for years, I don’t feel comfortable talking about the Ritchersons’ sordid family history with her.
“We’ll catch up with you later,” I tell her, then start walking again.
Warren—Wren? Jesus fuck, I don’t know—scrambles after me, and while this floor isn’t as busy as the ones below it, I still have to brush off a few people who try to stop me.
I step into a separate elevator to the one used to access this floor, swipe my card, and press the H button.
“What’s that for?”
I don’t answer until the doors open onto the rooftop.
“You have a helicopter ?” Warren asks, stalking closer to where the giant black beast is resting. The helicopter is a beautiful thing, cost a mint, and is emblazoned with a giant MC on the side. “You rich people really like to show off, don’t you?”
I nudge him gently with my shoulder. “You tell me since you’re one of us.”
Warren goes pale. “Can’t just take the bus like the rest of us, can you?”
“I’ll have you know the CIN offices are here, which is the only reason we have a helipad at all. They can’t be used privately in Seattle—it’s purely for news agencies only. This baby is how we gain access to emergencies first.” I wink at him. “It gives us an edge.”
I step out of the glass elevator bank and onto the main rooftop.
It’s windier up here, and Warren’s hair is getting gradually messier as he follows me.
There’s a spot in the right-hand corner, behind the air conditioner ducts, where I like to hide sometimes.
It has an unbroken view to the Space Needle and Mount Rainier.
Warren’s close behind me as I climb over the large metal duct and into the cradle created by two of them. I take my hidden rug out from beneath one of them and spread it out on the hard concrete, then drop down onto it.
Even though I don’t look at him, I can feel Warren as he watches me for a moment, then slowly sinks down beside me.
“This doesn’t feel like work.”
“Good. Work isn’t allowed to exist out here.”
“I know I’m not as smart and fancy as you, but isn’t that supposed to be what I’m learning about?”
I glance over at him, his hazel eyes looking brighter out here—but also warier.
“Like I said, it’s going to take time. And you can’t take any of it in with a full brain.”
He chuckles. “Bet you all think I’m a dumbass.”
“Not at all.”
“It’s fine, I can take it.”
“Hey.” I tap him with my elbow. “We all grew up with this. You’re at a disadvantage.”
“Yeah, and whose fault was that?” he asks bitterly.
Mine .
I shake the thought away before it can take hold.
I know he’s talking about Father, and I hate it.
That they never had the chance for a relationship because of what happened, and if I was in Warren’s shoes, I probably would have felt the same.
The guilt only gets heavier the longer I spend with him.
“So what are we doing out here?” he asks. “I’m not gonna do yoga or whatever with you.”
“Pilates, but close.” I smile at his surprise.
“Yes, yes, I’m a stereotype, I get it.” I’m caught off guard by the unsettled feeling building in my bones.
“I come out here to get away sometimes. There’s a lot of thoughts going on up here”—I tap my temple—“and sitting here, looking out at the mountain, helps me close it all down. Before Father passed, I spent a lot of time in London at our office there, but that mountain has always reminded me of home. The one familiar sight I’ve always had. ”
When he talks again, it almost sounds like he’s reluctant to share. “Guess that’s another thing we have in common. I’m so used to seeing it, though, that I barely notice it anymore.”
“I’m that way sometimes too. I think this is the first time since I lost him that I’ve actually taken a moment to look again.
” My words have gotten quiet, heavy with the memory of when Father was here, working in the office across from mine, and everything seemed so …
important. Now, it still is, but in an abstract way.
I know what I’m doing matters, but it’s almost lost the heart behind it that I’ve always been so used to.
I don’t have the time to bring everything to a stop so I can grieve, so all I can do is find these stolen moments and try not to be overwhelmed by it all.
“Wonder what that’s like,” Warren says.
“What?”
“To have a dad you actually like.” He throws a look my way, and I hurry to pull my act together. He doesn’t need to see me missing a man he never had the opportunity to miss.
“I’m sorry.”
“Eh. He wasn’t a shitty person to you.”
He wasn’t a shitty person at all . But it’s not like I can say that because from Warren’s perspective, he was, and explaining all the ways he’s wrong will only open a conversation that my father took to his grave.
A conversation that we can literally never have.
He gives me an impassioned pat on the knee before turning back to the view. But that one touch catches my breath, ripples feelings up my leg and into areas that he’d be horrified to know about.
Oh, fuck .
I grit my teeth and ignore the unexpected reaction, mentally trying to map out a time that I can actually catch up with Carlisle.
If I’m so deprived that my body is reacting to anyone now, I need to make that a priority.
Because while Warren might be rough and sexy in all the right ways, my body has got to get the message that even though we’re practically strangers to each other, he’s family .
That weird reaction begins and ends now.
Warren has barely dipped his toe into this world, and all it would take is one tiny thing to have him run scared from us for good.
And giving your own goddamn brother a hard-on is no tiny thing.
I don’t think this is what Father meant when he said he wanted us to bond.