Chapter Four
Four
James
James reclined in the leather armchair in his dad’s living room.
His finger clenched around his glass of Macallan, the amber liquid distorted through the crystal.
He hated the monthly family dinners he was obligated to attend at his dad’s mansion in Montauk.
The large windows and soaring ceilings only served as a cruel reminder of the years he spent virtually trapped there after his mom packed her bags and left.
He got out as fast as he could when he was eighteen. But every month like clockwork, he endured the sneers and malice his dad threw for the sake of happier moments when laughter and smiles spilled from the airy halls as easily as breathing.
The cavernous corridors still held the memory of James’s mother. And it was the last place he might catch the hem of her pants, or the ends of her hair, disappearing around a corner.
He took a sip of the whisky, relishing the liquor’s burn.
“So, James, I heard through the grapevine that you met with Declan Geller this morning.” His dad’s eyes flashed. “Considering all I’ve done for you over the years, I’d have thought you’d think twice before stealing my clients.”
James frowned. “Excuse me?”
“I know your company is doing well, now,” his dad continued, as if he hadn’t heard his youngest son. “But it’s only a matter of time before that business fritters away. It would do you some good to take a page from Adam’s book. At least your brother isn’t wasting his time.”
“Dad,” Adam interjected, but didn’t continue. Instead, a flash of guilt coated his expression before it disappeared, replaced by stone-cold indifference.
James’s jaw clenched—he didn’t know why he expected anything more.
The conversation from last month’s dinner floated back.
“What’s so hard?” James had demanded. “Why do you never say anything?!”
Adam turned away. “It’s … complicated.”
James’s eyes flashed. “Then, uncomplicate it. You’re almost thirty-five. When are you going to stop letting Dad shove you around?”
Adam whirled. “I don’t let Dad shove me aro—”
“Yes, you do!” James shouted. “Those arranged dates, where you live, hell, even your fucking job—”
“And you’re only two years younger than me!” Adam sneered. “So grow up, Jamie, and face the fact you’re not much better than me.”
“Excuse me?!”
“Why do you think you got as far as you did with your art company?” He wrung the silver Cartier ring on his index finger. “Sure, you only cater to the wealthy. But if it wasn’t for our last name, do you think you would’ve gotten clients so fast?”
James balked.
He wasn’t blind to the fact that his success was because every businessperson worth their salt knew Tian Corporation was one of the largest shipping companies in the U.S.
But that didn’t discount the fact that he spent months cultivating Lotus into a multi-billion-dollar company.
That didn’t dissolve all the blood, sweat, and tears, or who he really worked his ass off for.
“Maybe I don’t say anything because I can’t.” Agitation had painted Adam’s features for a moment before fading behind apathy. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t care.”
James drained the rest of his whisky as movement shifted in his peripheral vision, and he glanced at the door.
Mrs. Le hovered just outside the door to the sitting room.
His father’s elderly housekeeper shot James a worried glance, but he shook his head subtly.
Normally, his dad was more restrained at family dinners, but finding out about Geller …
To say Charles Tian was unhappy would be to put a positive spin on the situation.
James pulled out his phone, zoning in on the words Luc texted him.
You won’t believe who I met
James tuned out his dad completely.
Who?
Remember how I said there was that woman with the Joseph’s cup at my meeting this morning? I just gave her and her friend a ride to their place
The cute one? What was her name again? I don’t think you mentioned
Her friend was cuter. But don’t encourage me. You already asked her out this morning
James’s fingers froze over his keyboard.
The chances were a million and one, but somehow, Luc seized them all.
Luc sent another message.
She told me after she saw your coffee cup in my car you slob
A small smile graced James’s lips as he tapped in a response.
It’s your car. It’s not my fault you don’t clean it
“What are you smiling about?”
The smile slid off James’s face as he looked at his dad.
He sneered at his son, contempt painting an ugly portrait. “Is it your little art business?”
James didn’t tell his dad that his “little art business” closed a multimillion-dollar deal that morning, or that they were on the verge of another exorbitant deal with Marco Russo, one of the city’s wealthiest residents.
“Nothing.” Rising from his seat, he adjusted his shirt. “Is dinner ready?”
James examined his fork, thinking of the different ways he could kill himself with it.
His dad talked around a mouthful of steak about the losses Tian Corporation sustained that month. “It’s ridiculous! We’ll need to—James, are you listening?”
James speared a piece of asparagus. “I thought you didn’t want me anywhere near the company anymore.”
His dad squinted. “No, I don’t. But you still need to listen to me.”
The words aimed to hurt, but James hardly cared, and the guilt fell short.
“Word of advice, Jamie,” his brother said. “As COO, I’ve learned you always need to have your head in the game. That means being present for everything. Even if you don’t think it’s important, it is.”
James frowned. Does he not think I know that?
But before he could say something to that condescending son-of-a-bitch, his dad cut in.
“As a soon-to-be CEO, Adam, I expected you to catch the significant drops in productivity this quarter, especially since most of it was in Boston. And yet …”
A bright red flush coated his brother’s cheeks, and James smirked.
Even his father’s favorite son wasn’t immune to Charles Tian’s criticisms.
“Anyhow, James,” his dad said. “Aside from Geller, how is Lotus doing? A for-sale sign isn’t in the future, is it?”
Heated fury flooded James’s chest. “It’s going well. Really well, actually.”
His dad raised a brow. “Enlighten us.”
Dammit.
James hadn’t thought his dad would start questioning him, but he should’ve expected it.
Everything was a game, and every dinner was another move across the chessboard.
Ever since his dad lost his queen, he paid even more attention to his pawns.
“Well, I … we sold two paintings,” James began. “At face value, for four million. Each.”
His dad raised a brow. “Would I know the buyer?”
“You might.” James gritted his teeth. “It’s George Delacroix.”
Adam choked on his wine, covering his spluttering mouth with his napkin. “Shit, Jamie.”
And … Check.
George Delacroix was one of the most prominent figures in the business world.
He owned fifteen different law firms in New York alone, half of which were in Manhattan.
He was also a long-time investor in Tian Corporation, and James took advantage of having heard he wanted to decorate his new business.
“First Declan, now George,” his dad lamented. “You’re really determined to steal my investors out from under me, aren’t you?”
James stabbed a bite of steak. “It’s not stealing, it’s business.”
For the first time in a long time, his dad’s face looked mildly impressed.
James wasn’t delusional—Charles Tian might’ve included his youngest in talks of Tian Corporation. Still, the tidbit of news starring Delacroix wasn’t enough to get his dad to come around completely. James doubted anything ever would.
Backing into one of the parking spaces in the garage under his building, he got out of his car.
The elevator slid open into the foyer of his penthouse, and he slipped off his shoes, glimpsing Philip’s already next to the shoe rack.
“Hey. Did the game start?” James called.
He made his way to the living room and sat on the couch, taking off his tie and undoing another button on his shirt.
Philip emerged from behind the kitchen island with an armful of snacks. “No. By the way, you’re out of barbeque chips.”
He grabbed two beers from the fridge. “How was dinner?”
James opened his beer and took a sip, flicking on the TV to ESPN. “Same-old, same-old. Where’s Luc? He’s late.”
Philip didn’t reply, and James looked over.
The former stared at his phone, his brows furrowed, and his tongue poking
into his cheek.
James reached for a bag of chips. “What is it?”
“Hm? Oh, it’s Mariana. Last night, I said something I shouldn't have, and she hasn't responded to any messages until now.” Philip frowned. “I'm going to go call her.”
He moved off the couch and disappeared into James’s office, shutting the door.
James’s phone vibrated, but he ignored it and reached for his beer.
It was probably another news alert or notification from his C-Suite group chat. He had been getting them all night, but after dinner, he didn’t have the energy to look.
The elevator pinged, and Luc rounded the corner.
“I brought alcohol.” He brandished the paper bag he held in the air and removed a few Soju bottles.
He sat, running a hand through his short, cropped dark hair. “Where’s Pip?”
James grabbed the chip bag he’d opened. “Calling Mariana.”
He explained the situation to Luc, who grimaced. “Man, that guy better not fuck this up. He’s so lucky to have her.”
James nodded.
Philip had always been an amazing boyfriend to the few men and women he’d dated, but he wasn’t devoid of mistakes, and it’d be a shame for him to lose Mariana.
“By the way, Sophie asked me to give you this.” Luc passed his phone over.
A page lay open on the Notes app with a phone number and a smiley face typed after it.
Oh, God. I didn’t even realize …
He sent the number to himself, then tossed the phone back to Luc. “Thanks.”
Opening a new message, he typed in a text,
Hey. It’s James
The blue bubble floated in the empty thread before he clicked his phone off.