Chapter 15
Vic had been the CEO of Maxwell & Sons for seven years, and yet on mornings like this, it still felt like his training wheels were on.
Not because he didn’t know what he was doing—he damn well did—but because having his retired-but-ever-looming father sitting on the trustees board.
How could he lead when he could almost feel the weight of someone’s legacy breathing down his neck?
The trustee meeting had just concluded. Numbers were strong, projections were better, and the Artisan Avenue project was being hailed as a visionary by investors and urban planners.
The investors’ gala had raked in record-number figures.
Everything was moving exactly the way he wanted since he had spent years cultivating the company after he’d taken over.
Of course, his parents followed him into his office, demanding to talk about his love life and future. The second the door shut, his mother let him know exactly what was on her mind.
“Sydney is a very nice girl, Victor. You should be more open-minded to forgiveness and a second chance,” she said.
No warm-up. No coffee. No “How have you been, son?”
Just give Sydney another chance.
“Good morning to you, too, Mother.”
They hadn’t had a chance to speak before the meeting. This was the first time they were addressing each other.
“You shut me down at Kian’s party. We need to finish it right now,” she demanded.
His father, Graham, who was stoic, had a regal posture and eyes like steel. He stood by the window of his former office, glanced over his shoulder, and added, “Your mother met with Sydney for lunch yesterday. She shared her side of the story.”
Vic nearly snorted. He stalked over to his desk and leaned back against it as he stared down his mother.
“So let me guess. She told you that she wanted to apologize,” he said.
Nancy let loose an audible gasp and clutched her very expensive pearls. “She said she regrets her hasty decision. She thought if the two of you took a break, that absence would make the heart grow fonder. She said that you said there was still a—”
“No.” Vic folded his arms. “I never said that.”
“She said—”
“I don’t care what she said,” he said bluntly. “Mother, she told you whatever she thought you needed to hear so you’d come deliver the message for her. She’s always strategizing.”
“Your legacy matters, Victor.” Nancy’s chin rose in a stubborn tilt.
There it was. The Maxwell battle cry.
“Public perception matters. You’re not just a man anymore. You are a brand. You are the face of this company. The future of this company.”
“She’s right, son. You and your legacy will carry on this institution,” Graham said.
“My legacy just turned five a week ago,” Vic snapped. “I’m sure you are not discounting your grandson.”
“Of course not,” Nancy insisted, too bright. “But you must be smart. Your father and I didn’t marry for love. We married for what made sense. A partnership that complemented our future. Look at us now.”
Vic stared at the two of them. Graham ambled over to stand beside his wife. They were two people who barely smiled at one another in private. They had perfected the art of being married without affection. Power couple? Sure. Love? A ghost they wouldn’t recognize if she knocked on their door.
“I don’t want a marriage like yours.” His jaw tightened.
Nancy blinked while his father’s eyebrow twitched. The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees.
“Son,” his father began. “Marriage is a responsibility. It’s choosing with reason, not impulse. Sydney is the perfect fit for you. Think of marrying her as a merger between two powerhouse companies. She understands the life we live.”
“She understands visibility and the power of a last name,” Vic corrected. “She wants the crown, not the king.”
He shook his head at his parents, unable to believe what he was hearing from them. Was he surprised? Not at all. But this just proved that he may be their son, but he was definitely not like either of them.
“I want love,” Vic said, quiet but firm. “A partner who knows me, not my résumé. Someone who actually cares and not only when the cameras are on.”
He didn’t say her name. He didn’t tell them how close he and Tachina had grown recently. He didn’t confess the laughter they’d shared, the slow dancing, the morning chaos, and their son calling them out. He kept everything quiet and sacred. It wasn’t for them to know.
“When I consider marriage, I’ll let you know, but right now, I’m not considering it,” he concluded.
Which was a lie. He was very seriously considering it—with Tachina.
Too seriously.
His parents exchanged disappointed glances, but he didn’t care.
“Just think about it,” Nancy said with a theatrical sigh.
She came over to him and offered her air kisses then turned to join her husband. His father nodded to him, and they stalked out of the room.
Vic moved to his chair and sat. He combed his fingers through his hair.
“Fuck.” He closed his eyes and wished he was back at home. With his son and Tachina. That was his happy place.
His phone rang.
The tension in his shoulders melted instantly. He didn’t even check the screen. He just knew the sound of relief when it buzzed.
“Hey,” he answered. The softness in his voice surprised him.
“Wow. Immediate pickup,” Tachina teased. “Someone must’ve missed me.”
She just didn’t know how much. It was like she had known he had needed to hear her voice. He would have liked it even better had she walked through his office doorway.
“You just don’t know,” he murmured.
“Aww…is the big CEO having a bad day?” She chuckled.
“You can say that.” He loosened his tie. It was almost cutting off his air supply.
He picked up sounds of construction behind her. Workers yelling, drills whining, the hum of progress on her magnificent design. He imagined her with her safety vest, hard hat, a sandwich in one hand and her tablet in the other.
“You’re on site at the Artisan?” he queried.
“Yup. Grabbing lunch and watching drywall go up. Living the glamorous life.”
“You okay?” He instinctively wanted to know.
“I’m good. I just needed to talk with you while I ate my fancy grilled cheese.”
He smiled. His heart, normally steady and slow, kicked up like it had found rhythm in her voice.
“Let me guess…extra pickles?” He couldn’t believe that was a thing. The first time he’d seen her eat them on a grilled cheese, he’d thought she was playing.
Tachina had been dead serious.
“One would think, but for some reason, I couldn’t stomach them today. And hey! We don’t judge innovation in this house,” she replied, matter-of-fact. “And speaking of houses, where are we staying tonight? Mine or yours?”
“Yours?” he inquired innocently. He’d let her think they were, but he’d already had made plans for them. Not that he minded her place, but tonight, they’d be at his.
“Mine? Why mine?”
“I’m just kidding. Tony is prepping dinner at my place,” he admitted.
“Oh, so you already knew the answer before I asked.”
“It was just strategic planning. Neither of us will have to cook tonight,” he said.
“I do like the sound of that,” she said with a sigh.
“Dinner’s at six. Chef’s choice, and you love his cooking.”
“Fine. You may have won tonight, but I get control of the TV, and if you complain, I’ll feed Kian all the sugar he wants before bed,” she warned.
“That’s domestic terrorism,” Vic said.
“Call it what you want, Maxwell.” She laughed.
He never realized flirting could feel like breathing. Natural. Like home. When the call ended, he stared at the screen until it went dark. He thought of calling her back just to hear her laugh again but knew she needed to work, as did he.
But he knew one thing for certain.
He loved her.
His house smelled like heaven. Tony was creating magic in the kitchen.
Old-school rock was playing from the speakers, and occasionally Tony sang along with the songs.
The man was a genius when it came to concocting good foods.
Vic was lucky to have employed him for years.
Hi stomach rumbled as the aromas grew stronger.
Kian sat on the floor in the family room building Lego towers.
According to him, he was building the ‘tallest building ever’.
Tachina was curled into the corner of the couch with her feet underneath her, her laptop balanced on her thighs.
She tapped her stylus against the screen while she worked, and her eyes were narrowed as she focused.
Vic sat in his recliner with his tablet, going through emails while half watching the Cavs game.
At the moment, his attention was on the game.
There was a whistle, and both coaches argued with the referees.
Apparently, one of the refs was saying the basket the Cavs player had just made didn’t count because his foot was on the out-of-bounds line.
“They’re cheating,” Vic muttered. Now his focus was blown on the emails while he watched the replay of the call.
It clearly showed the foot was not on the line.
He didn’t know how many times the refs needed to watch the replay—Vic could see the man’s foot was a millimeter away from the line all the way in his house.
“Mom! Look. It’s a skyscraper!” Kian shouted. He stood proudly by his tower that was as tall as him. It was leaning slightly toward the left and a little shaky.
Tachina looked up from her computer and smiled.
“Here, baby. Let’s build a wider base. That will help offset the weight a bit.” She closed her laptop and placed it down on the coffee table then joined Kian on the floor.
Their giggles did something to him. He watched as she showed their son a better way to get his tower to stand tall and not fall over.
This was what he wanted when it came to a marriage.
As he took in Tachina, Kian, and the feeling the house held, there was no way in hell he would sacrifice it for optics for the public.
He appreciated that his parents wanted to ‘look out for him,’ and in their own way, he was sure they loved him, but he was not going to marry Sydney.
He didn’t care about what they chose to do.
He was not them.
Tony arrived in the doorway and rang a small bell.
“Dinner is ready. Bring your appetites!” the chef announced, grinning.
“Is there cake?” Kian shot up from where he sat on the floor.
“Of course, big man. Chocolate cake for you, but only after you eat your dinner,” Tony said with a wide grin. He had quickly become one of Kian’s favorite people. There were plenty of times Tony would invite Kian in the kitchen to help. “I set up the kitchen table as you requested, too.”
“Good. We don’t need to eat in a formal dining room.” Tachina pushed up off the floor and stood. She took Kian by the hand and guided him down the hall. “Let’s go wash up first.”
“Where the hell did you find that bell?” Vic barked a laugh. He stood and walked with Tony toward the kitchen.
“It was in the back of the pantry.” Tony shrugged. He glanced at it with a twinkle in his eye. “Sydney used to tell me to ring that instead of yelling to announce her meals when you’d be out of town.”
“Are you serious?” Vic shook his head.
They arrived in the kitchen.
Vic made his way over to the sink to wash his hands. “Man, throw that damn thing away.”
“I don’t know. It does have a ring to it and makes me feel official.” He gave it another short ring and bowed to Vic. “Mr. Maxwell, your supper is served, sir.”
Vic snorted at his chef’s horrible English accent.
He quickly washed his hands and made his way to the table just as Tachina and Kian arrived.
Tony had completely outdone himself. He served roasted chicken glazed with citrus-honey herbs, truffle mashed potatoes, and sautéed asparagus paired with a delectable white wine for the adults.
He then presented Kian’s plate. Mini sliders with sweet potato fries cut into star shapes.
“I get to eat the stars!” Kian gasped and held one of them up.
“Save some of them for the sky, baby. We don’t want it too dark tonight,” Tachina teased.
“Yeah, because you know when it’s too dark, the monsters come out,” Vic said.
Tachina’s eyes cut to him, and he had to hold back a laugh at her glare. He lifted his glass and took a sip.
“I won’t eat all of the stars. I wouldn’t want Mommy to be scared when she goes to bed,” Kian said matter-of-factly.
Tachina gasped and glanced between him and Kian. She stabbed her fork into the asparagus and lifted it to her mouth, then paused.
“You know what? Eat as many stars as you want. I’m going to show both of you that I’m not scared when I go sleep in my room tonight.” Her mouth twisted up in a smirk, and she shot Vic another playful glare. She bit into the vegetable dramatically, earning a laugh from Kian.
If she thought she would be sleeping away from him tonight, she had better think again.
They dove into their meal while Tony finished cleaning the kitchen and storing the rest of the food. They talked, they laughed, and enjoyed the meal. Kian’s silly antics with drowning the stars in ketchup garnered more laughter. Glancing around the table, Vic felt whole. His parents were wrong.
This was what was important.
This was his future.