Prologue #3
Sebastian stared at me. His expression didn't change, but something dangerous flickered in his eyes. "This is your warning, Xavier. Get your act together."
"Or what?"
"Or this conversation will go very differently next time."
I left his office and had a three-hour lunch. Just to prove a point.
The second conversation happened two weeks later. Sebastian didn't call me to his office this time. He found me in the break room, flirting with one of the marketing interns, and his hand closed around my elbow.
"Walk with me."
It wasn't a request.
He steered me down the hallway, into an empty conference room, and shut the door. When he turned to face me, his expression was thunderous.
"I told you to get your act together."
"And I heard you." I leaned against the conference table, arms crossed. "I just chose not to listen."
"This isn't a game."
"Everything's a game, Sebastian. You just don't know how to have fun playing."
"Listen to me carefully. I don't care if you fail. I expect you to fail. But while you're busy self-destructing, you're taking my company down with you. And I will not allow that."
"Your company?"
"Mine." His eyes bored into mine. "I run it. And if you think I'll let you destroy it just to prove some point to Grandmother, you're even more foolish than I thought."
"What are you going to do? Fire me?"
"No." He stepped back. Straightened his jacket. "I'm going to make your life miserable in ways you cannot imagine. Get your act together, Xavier. This is your last warning."
He left. I stayed in the conference room, staring at the door, and told myself I was still winning. They'd realize I was hopeless. They'd fire me. This nightmare would end. Grandmother would bluster, threaten, but she wouldn't follow through.
But that didn’t happen. She summoned me to Gerald’s office on Thursday, and I showed up twenty minutes late just for the fun of it.
My grandmother was waiting in the conference room. Gerald sat beside her, leather briefcase open, papers spread across the table. The stack of documents was thick enough to make my stomach drop.
"Sit down, Xavier." My grandmother's voice was pleasant. That was a bad sign.
I sat.
"Do you know what this is?" She tapped the documents. Her rings clicked against the paper. "This is the paperwork for removing the Positano property from your inheritance."
My chest constricted. "What?"
She slid a photograph across the table.
The villa. White walls and blue shutters overlooking the Amalfi Coast. I remembered that place. She had taken me there when she willed it to me. I’d totally forgotten about it and hadn’t been there since.
It was the only property in the family portfolio I actually cared about, and she was about to take it from me.
"You can't do this."
"I can." She picked up a pen. "And I am."
I leaned forward, hands flat on the table. "This is getting out of hand. When are you going to stop? You can’t just run my life however you see fit."
"Yes, I can and I will." She signed the first page. "I warned you, Xavier. I told you I was serious." Another signature. "You didn't listen." Another. "Perhaps this will help you understand."
It was gone… the villa was gone. I’d clearly underestimated her, and now I was living the consequences.
But I couldn’t exactly do what she wanted me to do.
Not only was it utterly ridiculous, but it was also impossible.
Where the hell would I find a wife in 4 months?
Who would even agree to such an insane proposal?
"You've had weeks to do better." She looked up at me. Her eyes were sad, which was somehow worse than angry. "You chose not to."
Gerald notarized each page. The stamps sounded like gunshots in the quiet room. It was done. I had no words. There was nothing I would say that would get her to stop this. I could tell she was determined to ruin my life. And I couldn’t even fight back.
She set down the pen. Reached across the table and covered my hand with hers. Her skin was paper-thin, fragile, but her grip was strong. "You have four and a half months left," she said quietly. "I suggest you stop wasting time."
She gathered the photographs, the documents. Rose from her chair. Gerald followed, stuffing papers into his briefcase. At the door, she paused to look back at me.
"I'm doing this because I love you, Xavier. Because I believe you can be more than this." Her voice softened. "Don't prove me wrong."
They left.
I sat alone in the conference room, staring at the space where the photograph had been.
I had to get married. I had to find a woman willing to stand in front of my family and promise forever. A woman who could convince my grandmother that I'd changed. That I was serious. That I was capable of commitment.
My longest relationship had lasted six weeks. And three of those, she'd been in Paris. I pulled out my phone. Scrolled through my contacts. Models, actresses, heiresses, socialites. Women I'd charmed and bedded and forgotten. Their names blurred together, faces interchangeable.
Not one of them would say yes. Not for real. I needed a miracle. I had absolutely no idea what I was going to do.