Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
“Yeah.”
“So how’s it going with your dad?” I say, standing and stretching. West was pretty shaken up after Ray blindsided him in front of the Forbes editor. I can’t imagine what it’s like wanting to avoid your own father.
West hops up onto the railing, sitting with the ocean behind him. It’s a glorious view. “He’s trying to back me into a corner.”
“What I don’t understand is why he has such a boner for you being CEO when you clearly don’t want the job. Let him give it to Alex. He clearly wants it.”
“This has been his plan for as long as I can remember. It’s all about his legacy, and what Ray wants. He doesn’t want Alex. He obviously thinks my being here at all means I’ve had a change of heart.”
“Oh, sure.” I grin up at him. “I mean, why would you be at your own sister’s wedding unless it had something to do with him?”
The side of his mouth twitches up. “Sounds like you’re now fluent in Weston.” His expression straightens. “Speaking of… sorry about what my mom did the other night. I guess we haven’t talked about it yet.”
“You mean about the anniversary party I inadvertently asked for?”
He nods, grimacing. “Yeah.”
“I just remind myself I’m here doing a job. I don’t ever have to see her again after this.”
West swallows and then nods. “Good.”
“What about you?” I ask. “If everything goes the way you want this week, will you ever see them again?”
“Occasionally,” he says. “But not regularly.”
“Not even Jake and Charlie?”
He shrugs a muscly shoulder. “I’ll see them, sure. My parents and Alex… no.”
I study him, trying to piece out what sent West running for the hills after his internship.
“Trying to read my mind?” he asks after a few moments of silence, lifting one side of his mouth in a smile. “Just ask.”
Just ask. The two sexiest words ever spoken by an unreadable man.
“You said your dad did something shitty about ten years ago.” West nods, his expression turning guarded. “And then you had an internship that cemented that you did not want to come work for the company.” He nods again. “Will you tell me more about what happened between you two?”
His brows flicker down as he turns to look out at the water, and I take the opportunity to memorize his profile again. This damaged, hot man. Maybe Vivi is right and sex is the answer for everything.
But when he turns back, his eyes seem so troubled that all sexy thoughts evaporate. “He was a really shitty dad. That much is probably obvious. There are a million stories, of course. Him kicking Lego sets we’d painstakingly built because we did it in the hallway in front of his office. Alex wet the bed until he was maybe thirteen or fourteen, and Dad would make him hang his wet sheets outside in front of the house because he thought the shame would fix it. Jake broke his ankle during a soccer match and Dad made him walk through the gravel parking lot to the car because he’d let a goal pass and they’d lost the match.”
“Jesus,” I whisper, finally adding, “And you?”
He shakes his head. “I have plenty of personal grievances, and those alone justify staying far away. But the reason I’m not coming back to work for him isn’t one of them. I don’t like the way my father runs the business. It isn’t one thing; it’s a million things every day. But here’s an example: One of my responsibilities during my internship was to manage the facilities at headquarters in Irvine. Shift schedules for the hourly workers, maintenance, deliveries, et cetera.” Absently, he reaches forward, toying with the tie of my bikini that hangs over one shoulder. And I’m trying to pay attention, but his hands are so warm and the fact that he’s grounding himself with his fingers on me? That feels… incredible.
“There was a manager at the loading dock,” he continues, “a guy named César, who’d been with the company for thirty-five years. He was great. Funny, kind, sort of like everyone’s grandpa, and he knew the delivery system inside and out. He needed a schedule change in order to take the bus to work.” West’s thumb strokes down my shoulder and he watches the movement, lost in thought. “His car had broken down, and he had to walk his grandkids to school and asked for a different shift so he could catch the bus. It was one of those simple requests that turned complicated for reasons that aren’t interesting, but Dad overheard me discussing the schedule options with my assistant and blew his lid because I was wasting my time on something so menial. His solution was to tell César to get his car fixed and figure it out or find another job.”