Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
AN ATTEMPT AT RECONSIDERATION
Max
No. No fucking way. Nope. Not doing it. It’ll be a cold day in the ninth circle of hell before I ever, and I mean, ever, marry Celeste fucking Jenkins. Granddad can pound sand. Anybody but her.
I sit down and calmly steeple my hands. I do something I probably should’ve done before, except I was too apoplectic to see straight. “This board meeting is tabled,” I say to everyone. “Until tomorrow morning at 7. Thanks.”
Everyone files out of the conference room, disappointment in their faces.
They wanted to keep watching the fireworks.
Probably was the highlight of their day.
Not that I care. We’re all practically family, my board members and I, and they’ve been privy to many a food fight before.
This meeting will prove no different in the end and everybody will settle down soon.
Besides that, they’re all under an NDA, lock and key.
So, much like Vegas, whatever happens here stays here.
"Granddad," I say, my voice hardening as I grip the edge of the table. "You know I love you, and I've followed your guidance my entire life. But this—" I shake my head, jaw clenched. "I know Celeste. I've seen what she's capable of. She is not the woman for me. She will never be the woman for me."
I can't forget those goddamn blue eyes challenging me, her spine ramrod straight, strutting into that five-star restaurant like she owned the place while wearing what had to be consignment store rags. Christ. I called her to meet with me because I intended to humiliate her and now I can’t get her out of my mind.
Granddad smiles. “I’ve made up my mind,” he says. “There’s no getting me off of it, so don’t even try. You must marry Celeste Jenkins, assuming she’s willing…”
I shake my head. "Oh my god. You haven't even asked her yet?" Is he senile? I never thought he was, but, good lord, doing this without even knowing if Celeste is on board…not a good sign.
He shakes his head. "I still need to contact her team at Dreamscape.
No direct line to her—no cell number, no email—so I've got to wade through the corporate gatekeepers first. But once I do...
" He smiles, tapping his fingers against the table.
"Let's just say the financial incentive I'm offering should make her decision quite simple. "
I narrow my eyes to slits. "How much of a financial incentive?
" My pulse hammers in my throat as the solution crystallizes.
Find out granddad's price and double it—pay her off.
I need numbers. Leverage. I need granddad to tell me exactly what he's offering her so I can destroy this arrangement before it destroys me.
"$250,000 and she has to stay married to you for at least one year.
" His eyes gleam like a shark that's scented blood.
"One year to chisel through that fortress you call a heart.
One goddamn year, Max. And don't think I haven't calculated every angle.
The moment she says 'I do,' that poor girl will be counting the seconds until she can escape you.
I've watched you destroy every relationship you've ever touched.
But mark my words—if she breaks after a month, if she flees screaming into the night—and Christ knows I wouldn't blame her—she gets nothing. Not. One. Cent."
I steeple my hands, wheels turning. I must call Celeste and head this mess off at the pass. “Okay, Granddad,” I say. “Talk to her and see if she’s on board with this and let’s get this show on the road.”
Granddad's eyes narrow to slits. "Max, do I look senile to you?
" He shakes his head, the gesture slow and deliberate.
"Twenty-nine years I've watched you grow, and you still think you can pull one over on me?
I see right through you. The minute that door closes behind you, you'll have Celeste on the phone, dangling a million-dollar bribe to turn me down.
Try it, and I'll know. Then you'll be sitting pretty without your CEO title and with your bank account a million lighter. "
Damn! I walked right into his trap. The old man's been outmaneuvering sharks his whole career. Nobody builds a fortune like his by missing what's coming—especially when it's this obvious.
Okay, so bribing her to walk away is out of the question.
Granddad would find out—he always does. He'd probably sic John Englund on her financials the second he suspected something.
I was ready to transfer a cool million into whatever offshore account she named, but John would find it. The man's a digital bloodhound.
Plan B. I need to make her see reason. I'll work with what I have. I close impossible deals with charm every day. This time I'll flip the script—deploy calculated repulsion to show her exactly what she's signing up for.
His weathered hand settles on my shoulder, light as a bird.
"Max," he whispers, voice cracking with age.
"You see me as the villain in this story. I understand. But I've watched you hollow yourself out for twenty-two years since that day—since your father disappeared and you learned the truth about your mother’s death.” His fingers tremble against my collar bone.
"The emptiness in you, Max... I recognize it.
I've tried everything. The therapists couldn't reach it.
Becoming the youngest billionaire CEO in America couldn't fill it. The multiple Forbes covers haven’t made a dent.
None of it touched that void." He leans closer, eyes suddenly clear and certain.
“She'll accept my offer, and when she does—" his mouth curves into a fragile smile, "—you'll finally remember how to live again.
" I bite down hard on my bottom lip, tasting blood.
“Okay, Granddad,” I say. “Game on.”
And, at that, I leave the conference room, and Granddad, behind. I call Celeste the second I leave the conference room. “Celeste Jenkins,” I say. “This is Max Kensington.”
"Oh," she says, her voice as flat as a frozen lake.
"Let me guess. You're calling to fire me.
" I can hear her drumming her fingers on her desk.
“Fine. I've got a cardboard box under my desk and enough packing paper to wrap every coffee mug and sad little succulent in my office.
You think this breaks me?" Her laugh is short, sharp.
“I’ll walk out that door and straight into something better.
I know what I'm worth, even if you don't. So go ahead.
Call Iris. I'll be gone before the elevator - .”
"Would you fucking shut up?" I snap into the phone, cutting her off mid-sentence. "I need to see you. Right now. Drop whatever you're doing and meet me in an hour."
"Oh, no. You won't do that to me two days in a row.
Nope. Not doing it. Call Iris, have me fired, whatever you need to fucking do.
I'm not playing your game. Bye, Max." The call cuts off with a sharp click that feels like a slap.
I slam my fist against the desk, then grab a fistful of my hair and yank until my scalp burns.
The earlier threatened migraine explodes behind my eyes—white-hot daggers of light stabbing through my vision.
My stomach lurches. The room tilts. I grip the edge of my chair, knuckles white, sweat beading on my forehead.
Doesn't matter. I'll crawl there if I have to.
I have to reach her before she talks to Granddad and takes that goddamn offer.
I fumble for my phone and call my driver.
The thought of driving to Claremont with my vision blurring at the edges makes my stomach turn.
I'd wrap my Aston around a telephone pole before I made it halfway there.
But I need to reach her office, corner her if I have to.
Every minute counts. If Granddad gets to her first with his ridiculous proposal, I'm screwed.
The quarterly reports can gather dust. The market analyses can wait.
The merger papers—worth billions—suddenly mean nothing.
My entire focus narrows to this: find Celeste, make her understand why she absolutely cannot marry me.
Oscar pulls up outside the building in record time.
"Dreamscape headquarters. Claremont. Now," I manage through clenched teeth.
The car lurches forward. Oscar knows the drill—he's seen that look in my eyes before.
The Rolls Royce limo weaves through traffic like a needle through fabric, each swerve amplifying the jackhammer behind my eyes.
My migraine has colonized my entire skull, radiating from my jaw upward.
I grip the leather seat, focusing on the cool material under my fingertips instead of the pain threatening to black me out.
Celeste first, darkness later. I'll have my sanctuary waiting—office sofa, blackout curtains, silence—but only after I see her.
Everything hinges on this moment. The pain isn't real, I lie to myself. Nothing exists except getting to her.