Chapter 36
ASHER
Memorial Day weekend has been the opening of the Hamptons house for the summer every since I was a kid, and this year is no different.
Except that I've officially met all of my father's criteria for succession, and this should be a soft launch for me to take over the company, considering my mother has invited the entire board.
The next meeting is in September, and I expect my father will be ready to announce by then.
But he hasn't said a word about it.
I need to bring it up with him subtly. Feel him out. Understand what he's thinking without appearing desperate.
Wallace navigates the Mercedes through the wrought-iron gates, down the quarter-mile private driveway lined with manicured hedges. The Hamptons house sprawls ahead, all shingled elegance and whitewashed stone.
Grace sits beside me, fingers worrying the hem of her linen dress. She's been quiet the whole drive, staring out the window at the passing estates.
I reach over, squeezing her thigh until her fidgeting calms and I feel her body relax.
She's wearing her pearl collar, and the sight of it always seems to make my dick twitch. I've never collared a sub before. I never had the desire to own someone for more than just a few nights. But seeing Grace wearing it does something to me. It’s more than Domming to get off; she’s given me so much of herself, trusted me, and it’s affecting me more than I anticipated.
"What's going on?" I ask, leaning over to press a kiss to her temple, a gesture that I know calms her anxious mind.
She sighs. "I don’t think your family likes me very much."
“To be fair, they don’t like anyone much. And it wouldn’t say much good about you if they liked you, anyway.”
Her lips purse before they quirk slightly, and she leans into me. “For some reason, that does make me feel better.”
The car rolls to a stop in front of the house, right before Calla, who's standing with a hand on either hip next to my younger brother's Lamborghini.
I step out, rounding the car to help Grace while I listen to Calla's shouting.
"You can't park here!"
"Mini me…" He’s called her that for what feels like years now.
It's not a perfectly fitting nickname, considering my mother doesn't yell.
No, her voice is always calm, even if her words are sharp as knives.
And while Calla has the blonde aesthetic of my mother, she only wears pink, which is very not Celeste.
"It's a driveway. This is where cars go. "
Calla's face is twisted, and she's obviously flustered and can't tell that Wren is just fucking with her because he enjoys getting this reaction.
"Wren," I interrupt as Grace takes my arm. "Give Wallace the keys and leave her alone."
He chuckles. "Big Brother, always ruining my fun." But he tosses the keys to my driver anyway.
"Thank you," Calla mumbles as we pass.
I get Grace settled in our room. The estate is huge, and there are enough bedrooms to host everyone in my family and more.
Taking a deep breath, I can't shake the tension coiling in my own shoulders.
I need to talk to my father before the weekend spirals into chaos.
Before Dove corners me, or my mother starts orchestrating photo opportunities, or the board members descend, looking for reassurance about the company's future.
"I need to go find my father," I tell Grace. "Will you be okay here?"
She turns, hazel eyes searching mine. "You're leaving me already?"
"Just for a bit." I cup her face. "Unpack. Take a bath. I'll be back before cocktails."
She nods, but I catch the flash of anxiety before she hides it.
I lean in, pressing a chaste kiss on her forehead, but before I can step away, she tugs at my arm, pulling me back to her and finding my lips. She kisses me sweetly, tasting like sugar, and the gesture calms the anxiety that I hadn’t realized was building inside me.
“Good luck,” she says softly.
I’m thinking about that kiss and her as I make my way to my father’s office in the east wing, isolated from the main entertaining spaces. I knock once before letting myself in.
He's behind his desk, reading glasses perched on his nose as he reviews documents. The room smells of leather and expensive scotch, the walls lined with first editions and framed accolades.
"Asher." He doesn't look up. "You made it."
"Of course." I close the door, moving to stand in front of his desk. "Big weekend."
"Indeed." He sets down the papers and finally meets my gaze. "Your mother's outdone herself with the guest list."
I wait, letting silence stretch. He wants me to ask. To show my hand.
"I wanted to discuss your plans for the next board meeting," I say carefully. "Given recent... developments."
His expression doesn't change, but he leans back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest as he pays me his full attention. "What developments would those be?"
"My marriage." I keep my voice level. "I've met all the requirements you set."
"Requirements." He leans back, fingers steepled. "You make it sound like a business transaction."
My eyes narrow. "Isn't it?"
Something flickers in his gaze. Approval? Disappointment? With Leonard Caine, it's impossible to tell.
"Marriage is more complex than checking boxes, Son. The board will want to see stability. Commitment. Not just a ring and some paperwork."
Heat crawls up my neck, but I maintain composure. "Grace and I are committed."
"Are you?" He stands, moving to the bar cart and pouring two fingers of scotch without offering me any. "Because from where I'm sitting, this all happened very quickly. Met in January, married in May. That doesn’t scream stability. It feels impulsive."
I clench my jaw, refusing to rise to the bait. "What do you want from me?"
Studying me over the rim of his glass, he takes a long sip. "I want to know this marriage will last. That you're not going to embarrass this family with a divorce before your first anniversary."
"It will last." The lie tastes familiar on my tongue.
"Convince me." He sets the glass down. "Convince the board. Convince everyone at this party that you're not just playing house to get what you want."
"I've done everything you asked—"
"And that's exactly the problem," he cuts me off. "Everything you've done has been calculated. Strategic. The board knows that. They see through it."
My hands curl into fists at my sides. "So what, then? I'm supposed to wait until Dove—"
"Your sister has been planning her wedding for a year. She's put in the work, built the relationships. She doesn't treat this like a checklist to complete."
"Because she actually wants to get married," I snap before I can stop myself.
Leonard's smile is sharp. He’s caught me. "And you don't?"
The question hangs between us, loaded.
"I want what's mine," I say finally. "What I've earned."
"Then earn it." He moves back to his desk, dismissing me without another word. "Enjoy the party, Son. We'll discuss succession after we see how you handle a weekend with the family."
I turn and leave before I say something I'll regret.
The hallway feels too narrow, too hot. I loosen my tie, heading back toward our room.
Grace better be ready to put on the performance of a lifetime.
Because my father just made it clear—this weekend is a test.
And failure isn't an option.