9. Darby
Darby
I’m getting sick of the smell of coffee and leather I’ve now associated with this conference room.
Actually, I’m sick of the conference room itself.
Since that fucking video surfaced, we’ve had numerous strategy meetings, and my brothers have insisted on having them here, not in my office.
And as much as it pisses me off, I can’t miss any of the meetings because I caused this whole mess.
Even with the sunlight streaming through the windows, the air feels charged and tense as always.
I haven’t even been able to slip in a joke or two.
I’m seated at the head of the table while Aden and Garrett are sitting on either side of me. Their faces are so serious, and their focus so intense that it feels like they are trying to drill a hole in my head from both sides. I’m going to leave this meeting with a headache. I know it.
“Darby, we need to move forward,” Aden says in one of those tones that are so hard to read. “We need to get a handle on this as fast as possible.”
I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms—the leather creaks beneath me. “Then find someone else. I don’t want to work with Selene.”
Garrett sighs from his side of the table, forcing me to look at him. His dark hair is neatly combed, his suit pristine, and the only crease I find is the one between his brows. “This isn’t personal,” he says. “This is about the company.”
“Everything’s personal. We all know that” I snap, my voice cutting through the room. As tired as I am of these bloody meetings, I can take a hundred more of them, as long as it doesn’t involve me working with the woman who broke my heart into a million pieces. I should blame her for this mess.
If I had had my head straight, there’s no way I’d have agreed to have sex in front of a camera. My head was a mess, and that’s why I did it.
Silence falls. Aden presses his fingertips together, studying me like he’s trying to figure out the best way to approach a cornered animal.
“The wedding article worked,” he says slowly, like I don’t already know that. “It shifted focus. People connected with it. If Selene can do that on a larger scale, it’ll help mitigate this mess.”
I shake my head. My jaw tightens, my chest burning with a mix of anger and something I don’t want to name. “She’s not an option!”
Garrett leans forward, and he speaks even lower than Aden.
Do they think the lower their voices, the more likely I will accept?
“Darby, this scandal will get out one way or the other. The video is too juicy for any reporter to keep their mouth shut for long. We need to make sure that when it blows, we have an even bigger story to distract readers.”
The weight of their stares presses down on me, but I refuse to budge. “Then the solution lies with the story, doesn’t it? Not with the writer?”
Aden sits back, letting out a slow breath. He and Garrett exchange a look. I can’t figure out what the look means.
“Fine,” Aden says. “Let’s shift the focus from the writer to the story. What can we do to get people talking? Something human. Relatable.”
His words hang in the air, and for a moment, no one speaks. Then Garrett’s face lights up with an idea. “The children’s play,” he says.
I frown. “What about it?”
“It’s a local event that’s coming up,” he says. “Sponsored by several businesses, including Three Stones Ad Group. It’s small, but it’s a perfect opportunity to show your support for the community. Be the guy who champions the kids. Everyone loves kids.”
“They do?” I say, raising an eyebrow.
Garrett ignores my sarcasm and continues. “It’s a win-win. Good PR, minimal risk. You introduce the play, say a few words, and let the photographers do the rest.”
I hesitate. The thought of standing in front of a crowd of parents and kids makes my skin itch. But it’s better than bringing Selene back into my orbit. This is what her cruel disappearance has led me to. This is the man I’ve become.
“Fine,” I say, standing. The chair scrapes against the floor, the sound sharp in the quiet room. This is our most solid suggestion so far in these meetings. I turn to my secretary, who has been quiet and taking notes. “Set it up. Beck.”
He nods and takes out his phone.
Aden and Garrett exchange that look again, and it makes me uncomfortable.
They all must have been talking about me before I came in.
Garrett walks out, my secretary following behind.
I grab my phone from the table and start walking towards the door.
I’m scrolling through unread emails, already thinking about what comes next.
“Darby.”
Aden’s voice stops me. I glance up. He’s still seated, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. I almost roll my eyes. I should have smelled this intervention from a mile away.
“What?” I say, impatient.
He stands, his movements slow and deliberate. His six-foot frame towers just a little bit over me. I wonder if they agreed to let him give me ‘the talk’ because of his bloody height.
“You need to grow up,” he says. Flat and straightforward.
Oh. I see. It had nothing to do with his height. He’s doing this intervention because he’s the most outspoken among the three of us.
My chest tightens. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” Aden steps closer, his blue eyes locked on mine.
“You’ve insisted over and over again that we can’t use Selene Harper for the article, and you haven’t once bothered to give us a reason why not.
Do you think you can do whatever you please just because you’re the president of this company? ”
I clench my jaw, my pulse quickening.
“You screwed up,” Aden continues. “We’ve all screwed up at some point. But you don’t get to dig your heels in and refuse to deal with the fallout. That’s not how this works.”
Even though I somehow braced myself for this, his words hit a nerve.
“You think I don’t know that?” I say.
“Then act like it,” Aden says. His tone isn’t harsh, but it’s firm, unyielding.
He steps back with a steady gaze. “You’ve got the play. Do it right. Show people who you are—or at least, who you can be.”
He turns and walks out, leaving me alone in the silent room.
I stand there for a moment, staring at the door, my chest burning with a mix of frustration and something deeper. I pick up my phone, the screen bright in the dim light.
None of them have any right to judge me. Not when they’ve all gotten their happily ever after, and I’m a heartbroken mess.
***
The dreaded day of the play finally arrives, and I’m sitting in my car.
The light outside is harsh, cutting through the tinted windows of the car. I lower the visor, watching the city blur past as my driver weaves through traffic. My tie feels too tight. I tug at it, already irritated.
After a few minutes of staring at buildings, other cars, and uninteresting people, I make the call I’ve been dreading all morning. The head of PR picks up after two rings.
“Morning, Mr. Stone,” she says, chipper like we’re not in the middle of damage control for one of the worst scandals I’ve ever caused.
“Give me a brief rundown on what I should do when I get there.”
She doesn’t hesitate. “You’ll give an opening speech. Then, stay for the play. Act engaged. Smile. The press will be there, and our photographers will be there too.”
I lean back, closing my eyes. “Alright.”
She pauses. “I was just about to forward the speech Mr. Aden approved. You’ll get it right after this call.”
“No need. I’ll wing it.”
“Sir,” she says, sounding serious. “Aden insisted.”
My jaw tightens. I can picture him as calm and firm like he always is when he’s trying to control me.
I thought we were past that. For years, I worked my way up from being their screw-up little brother to running this company.
I earned their respect. Brokered deals no one thought I could land.
Turned on the charm when the company needed it and played cutthroat when it didn’t.
All the VIP clients our company has is thanks to me.
But apparently, Aden and Garrett still think I need training wheels.
“I said I’ve got it,” I snap. “And if you send me the speech, consider yourself out of a job.”
“Of course, Mr. Stone.” Her voice turns formal, and the line clicks dead.
I toss the phone onto the seat and stare out the window. The tightness in my chest spreads, pressing into my ribs. I worked too damn hard for this company to feel like I’m still the baby. Aden’s little “reminders” cut deeper than they should, but I can’t let that get to me. I have work to do.
When we arrive at the community center, the place is already buzzing. Parents, kids, and staff all waiting for the VIP arrival. As soon as I step out of the car, a woman in a tailored blazer and a man in khakis greet me like I’m royalty.
“Mr. Stone! Thank you so much for supporting us,” the woman says, her voice too sugary for this early in the day.
“My pleasure.” I shake her hand, flashing the smile that has closed deals worth millions. Cameras flash. I adjust my tie again and follow them inside.
The smell of paint, old wood, and cafeteria food hit me instantly.
The community center is packed with parents on the folding chairs.
Kids in costumes scurry around, their excited voices filling the room.
I spot a small stage at the front and, next to it, a podium. Perfect. Let’s get this over with.
“Are you guys ready?” I ask, and she nods.
Everyone is organized and seated within a few minutes, with their eyes glued to the stage.
I take the podium, resting my hands on the smooth wood. My fingers grip tighter for just a second. Then, I relax, breathe, and let the charm take over.
“I’ll be honest. When I was a kid, I wasn’t great at plays,” I begin, scanning the room.
“In fact, the only role I ever got was a tree.” A few chuckles ripple through the crowd.
Good start. “They told me I was essential—without the tree, the whole play would collapse. But really, they just needed someone to stand there as still as a tree. I’m proud to say I nailed it. ”
More laughter. I lean forward slightly, lowering my voice like I’m letting them in on a secret.
“My brothers? They were the stars: the knights, the heroes. And there I was, the oak tree in the corner. But here’s the thing—sometimes the tree’s important.
Without it, there’s no shade, no oxygen.
No forest.” I pause, letting that sink in.
“Every part matters, no matter how small it seems. That’s what makes this place and this play special.
You’re all building something bigger together than just you alone. ”
The applause feels genuine. I finish up the speech with a few more jokes, then step back and let someone else take the stage.
I stick around for the beginning scenes of the play.
When I’m sure our press people have gotten enough pictures, I sneak out.
I find a quiet spot outside, the morning air brisk against my skin. I make a few calls, checking in on branch offices and project deadlines. The more I talk, the more grounded I feel. Business deals, contracts, and strategies don’t change as people do.
The play ends after what feels like an eternity.
I wander back inside as the staff sets up tables for the kids’ celebration.
There’s punch, cupcakes, and cheap decorations that somehow feel more genuine than any high-end gala I’ve attended.
I’m surprised I’m not as irritated with the sight of so many children as I thought I’d be.
Their cute little faces cause a funny feeling in my chest.
I’m about to head to a spot where I can be captured for pictures when I see a young boy. He looks maybe seven or eight, and he’s clutching his throat, his face red and panicked. Something is wrong. Something is very wrong.
Without thinking, I move, my shoes squeaking against the floor as I run over and drop to my knees beside him. He’s choking.
“Hey, hey,” I say calmly, even if my heart is racing like hell. I get behind him and wrap my arms around his small frame. One quick thrust. Two. He coughs, then gasps as the piece of cookie dislodges and hits the floor.
He’s shaking, tears streaming down his face.
I sit back, breathing hard, and run a hand through his hair.
“You’re okay, buddy. Breathe in and out.
” His little chest rises and falls rapidly, and gradually, the color returns to his cheeks.
Then he looks at me like I suddenly have a cape around my neck.
His green eyes make me feel fuzzy, and something I don’t recognize rises in my chest. What is this feeling?
“Leo!” A woman’s voice pierces through the chaos.
I look up just as she drops to her knees and pulls the boy into her arms. Her red hair spills over him, her shoulders trembling as she holds him tight.
Selene.