Chapter 45
Ethan
Miles’ reply to my panicked text message is as unwelcome as it is predictable.
Merry Christmas. But you must realise you’re the last person I want to hear from over the holidays
Of course I am.
I get that, of course. But I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t absolutely critical. Also - I have a proposal for you that I really think you’re going to want to hear
Short of you walking away from our company, that’s highly unlikely
But if you insist
Little does he know.
I can come over tomorrow?
The gods of timing are on my side. Jamie’s due to spend the day with some school friends at a place that offers go-karting and gaming arcades.
We’re up in Chipping Norton this week. But I can talk tomorrow morning if you’re sure this can’t wait.
I’m sure. I’ll drive up. See you then.
That makes sense. Miles has had a place in the Cotswolds for a few years. My stomach roils unpleasantly. Interrupting his family time to have this conversation makes the prospect even less appealing, but needs must. I have a very clear objective, and I won’t let a lack of courage stand in my way.
Not anymore.
Miles’ Cotswolds pad is fucking amazing, a beautifully proportioned Georgian sandstone manor standing in what look like lovely grounds, even if the trees are starkly bare.
As I ease up the driveway, the gravel crunching under my wheels, I’m met with a painful reminder of how Christmas can look when someone gives enough of a shit to make an effort.
The firs outside are dotted with white fairy lights, there’s an enormous red and green wreath on the front door, and a tree twinkles through one of the long sash windows.
It’s also a reminder that I’m very much an unwelcome interloper.
Miles meets me at the front door, every inch the country squire in forest-green chinos and a beige sweater with leather elbow patches.
He may look far more undone than I’m used to seeing him in London, but he also looks distinctly underwhelmed to see me.
Nevertheless, he extends a hand and we shake.
‘Sorry to disturb your family time. I appreciate you seeing me. I’ll make this as quick as I can.’
‘You’re lucky that I have my folks and all my in-laws here and the twins are particularly grizzly today. You’re almost looking like the appealing option.’
I know from previous conversations that Saoirse is from a large and chaotic Irish family.
I respond to his olive branch with a chuckle and follow him away from the cacophony of voices and a child crying and across the hall to what is a lovely study overlooking the gardens.
The wall-to-wall bookshelves are a rich burgundy, a fire is crackling in the grate, and a pair of wing-backed armchairs flank it.
The overall effect has me thinking about Soph’s distaste for my brand of minimalism.
I find a lack of clutter eases my mind, helps me focus—but perhaps I should warm my place up a little.
Before the fireplace stands a small coffee table laden with a pot of tea and a plate filled with mince pies and shortbread. However displeased Miles is to see me, good hospitality clearly runs in his veins.
We take our seats, and he gets to pouring.
‘How’s Sophia?’
‘She’s great. She’s back in Greece for the week.’
‘Theo tells me you two are dating.’
I nod. ‘That’s right. We are.’
‘She’s fantastic.’ His tone is mild, but I swear I hear an element of judgement. Don’t fuck it up when you don’t deserve her in the first place.
‘No argument here.’
He hands me a teacup. ‘So, what couldn’t wait until New Year?’
Fuck knows where I should start. But Miles is known for being a straight shooter, and I owe it to him not to waste his time. I blow out a breath.
‘It’s been a tricky few days. I’ve had a bit of a crisis with Jamie, and it’s been a real wake-up call. It’s been a long time coming, really.’
He glances up from adding his milk, a flicker of interest in his eyes. ‘The crisis, or the wake-up call? And I’m sorry to hear that.’
‘Thanks. And both, I suppose. I’ve been harbouring suspicions for quite some time that I’m not on the right path. I suppose you don’t want to hear that.’
He makes a scoffing sound, and I force myself to continue. I had this all planned out in the car, but it’s proving harder than I thought to get it out.
‘Bottom line is, I have a lot of issues with my father, which we touched on briefly at the Golden Keys. I’ve been more and more unhappy about working my arse off to continue his legacy, which is essentially building an empire in ways I don’t wholeheartedly approve of.’
I risk a glance at him, because he won’t relish hearing about my delayed crisis of conscience. He sits back, expression inscrutable.
‘Go on.’
‘While I’ve been letting Dad fuck me up the arse, I’ve also been really struggling with Jamie.
Things are bad, but Soph’s got me into therapy, and it’s—it’s really helping.
But not enough, because I was a shitty father to Jamie on Christmas Day.
I blew up at him for something stupid, and he stole my Tesla and tried to drive to his mum’s.
’ My voice cracks a little, and I clear my throat.
Miles’ eyebrows wing up. ‘Fucking hell.’
‘Yeah. I got to him in time, thank fuck, but it was a big wake-up call.’ I gesticulate with the hand not holding my teacup. ‘The truth is, I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, but I do know that my loyalty needs to be to my son and not my father. Full stop. Starting now.’
‘I can’t disagree with any of that.’
‘I need to put in some proper work with Jamie. Get away with him. I’m turning into my dad, basically, and it terrifies me. I can’t keep perpetuating this cycle of narcissism, like you said.’
His voice is soft when he speaks. ‘I never said you were a narcissist, mate. On the contrary. But if your dad is, then you owe him diddly squat.’
I nod. ‘It’s a complex issue, obviously.
I haven’t been in therapy for long, but I’m beginning to realise that he has a very unhealthy hold over me.
It must seem from where you’re sitting that I’m crazy to have any loyalty to him at all, but it’s not that easy.
He’s—he’s used a lot of nasty tactics to keep me in line—I’m talking carrots and sticks—and I’m only starting to understand just how well they’ve worked. ’
Miles puts his cup down and leans forward, elbows on his knees and fingers steepled.
‘That’s the thing with narcissists. They can be very bloody clever, and they really fucking weaponise their love—or your perception of their love, at least. Because, of course, the plot twist is that the love doesn’t actually exist. It’s all a mirage, a projection on our parts. ’
I study him. ‘Did your ex-wife do that?’
‘Like a fucking Olympian. But I’m not that smart. I didn’t work any of this out until she walked and showed me and Bea her true colours.’
‘That’s rough. I can’t even imagine.’
His smile is tight. ‘Yeah. But it’s hard to have perspective when it’s someone you love.
You think that’s what love is, at least. I also choose to believe that it says we’re fundamentally decent, trusting people who judge others by our standards.
I don’t know. It fucks with your head, that’s for sure. ’
‘Yeah.’
‘I’d be happy to share my encyclopaedic findings on the subject another time.
I practically have a PhD in it. Let’s see.
They make you feel unworthy of their love.
You know, the love that doesn’t actually exist. Their blowing hot and cold creates so much emotional chaos that you start being a total control freak in every other part of your life, just to give yourself the semblance of control. ’
I stare at him. ‘Jesus.’
He laughs without humour. ‘Yeah. Of course, it would have been worse for you. I was a grown man who showed precisely zero judgement of character. Allegra totally sucked me in. But you were just a kid. I reckon Richard could really fuck someone up if he chose to.’
I sit there, frozen. This is an odd conversation to be having with my long-time nemesis, a man who hates my guts right now. Perhaps he’s just avoiding his noisy in-laws and cranky toddlers, but I’m staggered he’s being this open with me. This generous, when he has no reason to be.
‘Something like that. And when I behave like a dick to Jamie, I’m acting the exact same way as he did to me.’
He grimaces. ‘Like I said, that’s rough, but you’re clearly not a narcissist. So your reasons for doing that will be different, and that’s for you to work out with your therapist. But you were saying.
About choosing him over your dad.’ He takes a bite of his shortbread finger, watching me as he chews.
‘I want out,’ I say flatly.
Fucking hell.
I’ve finally said the words aloud to my counterpart in this excruciating deal, to the man whose family, whose entire company, I’ve put through hell these last couple of months.
I push on. ‘Out of the deal, out of Kingsley Hotels, out of the industry. I don’t know what the hell I want to do, except spend some time with my kid and find something to be passionate about that’s not running Richard Kingsley’s empire for him.’
He stares at me. There’s a moment of stunned silence before he begins to cough as he chokes on his shortbread crumbs.
‘Jesus, mate,’ he protests when he’s recovered.
‘I mean, I’m all for epiphanies of the heart, but what the fuck?
You can’t walk away from this. It’s way too far down the line for that—the market would crucify both our share prices. ’
I force myself to hold his gaze as I shake my head. ‘Not if I appointed you as CEO of the combined entity.’