“Shea, darling, don’t argue with the help.” Violeta spoke with her oddly exaggerated Spanish accent as she patted Shea’s arm. Honestly. Yes, she wastechnicallySpanish, but I happened to know she emigrated from Madrid when she was five. The woman grew up in Fort Lauderdale.
“Vi, let them be,” Dad cut in. “Mac’s the only one who can keep her in line. Let him do his damn job.”
That only infuriated Shea more as she stood, ignoring her mother’s attempts to pull her back to the couch. “You work for me too, you Neanderthal.”
“I work for the family,” Mac replied flatly. “And right now, the family needs me to make sure you stop acting like a spoiled brat. So sit down and shut up.”
For a second, I thought Shea might actually throw something at him. It wouldn’t be the first time.
Instead, she stalked to the windows to stand next to Owen while Mac crossed his beefy arms and assumed the statue-like pose that wouldn’t move until this meeting was over.
“Ronan.” Dad’s voice had always grated, like his vocal cords had been run through a wood chipper. The effect had gotten worse since his heart surgery. Or maybe it was just his patience that had gotten shorter in the last months. “Nice of you to show up to your own coronation, boy.”
I accepted my drink from Jenkins, then slid into an empty chair and sat, knees spread, like we were about to Netflix and chill, not interrogate my future. “Coronation, huh? Do I get a crown?”
“No, you get to worry about the stock price,” Owen said. “We’re down eighteen percent since Brendan’s scandal broke. Eighteenfuckingpercent.”
I swallowed a gulp of tequila. It went down smooth. “I understand what percentages mean, Owen. Shocking, I know, but then again, you’re the jarhead.”
“This isn’t a joke!” Two separate veins now stood out on his forehead. It was funny. With his black hair and blue eyes, Owen looked nothing like the rest of us, but his temperament was the closest to our father’s. “The rest of us have been here trying to salvage this company’s reputation now that Brendan ran off with a milkmaid and you’ve been snorting God knows what up your nose in Vegas.”
“That’s not fair. I always know exactly what’s going up my nose in Vegas. Now, Rio’s a different story, but this wasn’t Carnaval.”
No one laughed. From his position in the doorway, Mac didn’t even blink.
I had to joke. It was either that or describe in excruciating everything Ihaddone for this company—or at least Brendan—in the desert. Things I had been doing for most of my adult life.
But that was sort of the point. Dad knew. After all, he was the one who had put me up to this shit all those years ago. Brendan knew, but only for the past few years, when he’d been primingto take over. Everyone else remained clueless, which was why to them I had to remain nothing but the family joke.
It was also why Owen in particular was undoubtedly incensed about being passed over as the next in line.
Well, fuck him. Plausible deniability is a real bitch. So is secret competence. Maybe mine didn’t have to be a secret anymore.
I glared over my tequila and opened my mouth.
“Ronan.” Dad’s voice was full of warning.
Maybe not.
“Do you have any idea what Ivy Ink has been writing about us?” Owen went on.
I rolled my eyes. “Do you know you have an unhealthy obsession with that gossip columnist? You need to find some new reading material. May I suggest some Seneca? Or Marcus Aurelius? A bit of Stoicism would do you good.”
“I will when she stops using this family for her own personal target practice,” he retorted. “This week, she called us—Liam, what was it?”
“‘Financial dilettantes playing dress-up in their father’s company,’” Liam supplied, then shrugged when I laughed. We’d always enjoyed fanning Owen’s temper together. “Also, ‘morally bankrupt,’ ‘ethically challenged,’ and ‘a dynasty of dysfunction.’”
“The last one has some nice alliteration,” I said. “And not totally inaccurate.”
“Fuck!” Owen exploded.
Shea snorted. At leastshehad a sense of humor.
“Boys, please.” Liza sounded tired, but she’d always sounded that way, even when we were growing up. “Ronan, this is serious. Public perception has a legitimate effect on company valuation. Stockholders are not happy.”
That was it. “Look, I realize I’ve only been nominated to the Interim CEO, but I don’t need to be corporate-splained stockvaluations. I get our family’s problems—more than any of you think. While you were all reenactingDays of Our Livesthis weekend, I was doing my favorite tap dancing routine called ‘Ronan takes out the trash.’”
“Ronan!” Dad barked.