Page 35 of Reckless
“I’m honestly unsure what to do.”
Roman set down his coffee.“What’s the problem now?”
“Maman has made announcements.The story has spread,” I said instead.“She’s planning introductions that lead to weddings.Adian’s graduation weekend is in four days.If I correct it alone, Kelly takes the worse hit.”
Roman studied me with that infuriating, quiet attention that had always made weaker men underestimate him right up until he ended their leverage and walked away with their boards.
“We all know what Maman is like,” he said.“Including you.”
“That doesn’t fix what I did.”
I gave him a flat look.“Have you been difficult all morning or did you save it for me?”
“Only for you.”He leaned back.“So what are you going to do?”
That was the question.
Before I could decide whether I disliked Roman enough to share the thought, my office door opened and my assistant stepped in carrying a tablet.
“Your father’s office called,” she said.“He’d like you in fifteen.”
I smiled once with no joy in it.“Perfect.”
Roman lifted his brows.“Enjoy.”
“I never do.”
My father kept a private office two floors below ours in a suite that somehow managed to feel quieter, more expensive, and more dangerous than any boardroom in the building.He had been called many things over the years, visionary, tyrant, madman, genius, the Tehran Wolf of Wall Street, and only some of them by enemies.
He did not rise when I entered.
He simply gestured to the chair across from him and said, “Sit.”
I sat.
The office smelled faintly of leather and the city baking itself against the windows.Behind him, lower Manhattan flashed in the late morning light.His desk held no unnecessary objects.His focus worked the same way.
“Our family has a reputation,” he said, “you and Kelly made an announcement last night.”
I was not going to get help from anyone in this family.Good to have that confirmed.
“We didn’t plan it that way.”
“No.”
He leaned back.“And yet it happened.”
“Yes.”
His gaze held mine.“Kelly makes you seem more stable.But we don’t have the luxury of taking our time, son.”
That question could have gone twelve different ways depending on how either of us answered it.
I chose the one most likely to end the conversation quickly.“No.”
His expression did not change much.
That was the problem with my father.He did not need dramatic reactions.A half-inch shift in stillness usually meant more than anyone else’s shouting.
