She looks away from him, and when she notices I’m watching her, she just smiles at me. I think Ryke is worried about her. We all are. There’s a small fear she’s going to end up like Lily—sex crazed and compulsive. All this media attention is affecting her at school in ways that no one knows. Daisy won’t talk to us about it. And she could very well blow off steam in a bad manner.
Loren carries Lily out of the living room and up the stairs, her legs wrapped around him. Wiry Ben follows close behind.
I turn slightly, and my arm hits a camera. Pudgy Brett has a big smug grin on his face, as if he won the bet too. Well I guess everyone fucking won but me. “Put that smile away, Brett, before I make it a permanent frown.” My threat does sound serious （it’s really not）， but I’m edgy enough that I feel like I could truly cause astronomical damage.
I glance around at the coffee table. White foam. Charred napkins. Burnt food. Dirtied plates. An overturned ottoman. Is that a stain on the rug? Oh…
“I’ll clean it up,” Connor tells me.
“I’ll help,” Scott adds.
Connor gives him a look.
“What?” Scott smiles. “I live here now. Might as well lend a helping hand.”
I have a feeling that a “helping hand” is more than I’ll get from Scott.
Six months. Six months.
If I repeat it, maybe it won’t feel so long.
CHAPTER 6
CONNOR COBALT
This is a shit waste of an afternoon.
The thought runs on repeat as I listen to another Cobalt Inc. board member drone on about advertising and angel investors. I have the urge to stand up and let everyone know that they have successfully battered the conversation.
But I don’t.
These are the highest ranked employees in the company. If there’s any hope of taking the reins to Cobalt Inc. without looking like I undeservingly inherited it, I have to bite my tongue. The company owns brands like MagNetic, Smith & Keller paints, and other profitable subsidiaries—things that have lined my pockets since birth.
I feign interest as best I can, but I’m sitting at the head of a long conference table filled with twenty middle-aged men. During these meetings, I’m my mother’s interim—a position she granted me two years ago. It means nothing really.
On paper, I’m still just her son. This is merely a test.
My mother has never been quick to let go of the empire she built from the ground up. In order to be a board member, become the CEO, and acquire her shares, I have to prove myself. Like these meetings or certain tasks she gives me at the least opportune moments. My cellphone is always in my pocket, threatening to go off.
I keep waiting for the sudden demand to entertain her business partners or a family friend. And I’m always grateful when she’s decided to leave me alone for the night.
I type “notes” onto the small tablet in my lap. Really, I’m outlining an assignment I have to complete tonight for one of my business courses at Wharton. I may have graduated from Penn last year, but now I’m in the big leagues. Grad school. I want an MBA. I don’t need it. Not really.
I’ll be CEO of Cobalt Inc. with or without the degree. But the respect I crave won’t be handed to me so easily.
My phone buzzes in my pants, loud enough for Steve Balm, the COO and my mother’s most respected board member, to pause his discussion on finger paints. Steve has been ranting about primary colors and the hearts of children everywhere. He wants to fuck over Crayola. Not his words, but I read between the lines.
“Are we interrupting you, Connor?” Steve asks, his gray brows furrowing critically. Steve and I have a long history. I suppose it began at birth—when he was dubbed my godfather.
I don’t make a move for my phone. “Did I say anything?” I refute. I hit the mute button before it can vibrate again.
“Aren’t you going to answer that?” Gary Holmes, a stocky-built board member asks a few chairs down. “Could be Hollywood. You’re a movie star now, aren’t you?”
Light chuckling filters across the room. They jest because they knew me when I was seven years old, when my mother carted me through the hallways.
I am a boy in their eyes.
I won’t win them over by arguing, by pounding my fists against my chest and demanding to be taken seriously. So I turn to Steve. “If you’d like to drive this company into the ground, by all means choose to spend millions of our research fund into finding an unpatented health-friendly finger paint.”
Steve doesn’t reveal whether he agrees or not, his face as blank as mine.
“Katarina wants to expand.” Steve directs the statement to the boardroom. “She’s giving us a week to propose viable options to take Colbalt Inc. to the next level.”
“We could just get in bed with Fizzle,” Gary says, “Connor’s already a quarter of the way there.”
Before the room can erupt in another wave of laughter, I ask, “And what would we do with Fizzle? We’re a paint and magnet company. Should we poison consumers with our magnetic soda cans?” Everyone remains quiet, eyes flitting between one another. I keep my gaze pinned on Gary as he reddens and sinks lower into his chair.
I straighten, silently reminding everyone who’s not a child in the room.
“It was a joke,” Gary says in defense. He looks to Steve for support, but my godfather never offers him a life vest. If you’re drowning, you fucking drown.
“Unless they involve productive opinions, keep your jokes to yourself,” I say sharply. Now I slip my phone out of my pocket. It was a text…
Virginia Woolf, Jane Austen, Anne Brontë – Rose
My lips threaten to rise, and it takes all my strength not to smile. I begin typing and speaking at the same time. “Katarina just notified me that she’s on her way,” I lie. Though after reading a quick email this morning, I do know she’s coming later.
Fuck. Kill. Marry. I type back and hit send before pocketing my phone.
“Any other fabulous ideas, Gary?” Steve asks. And there it is. His opinion. I meet his eyes and he gives me a small nod, letting me know he agrees with me. I don’t let out a breath of relief. This is just one meeting of many.
Katarina arrives only five minutes later, and after Steve offers her a brief update, the board members clear out of the conference room. Leaving me alone with my mother.
Her deep, dyed red hair cascades in waves over her shoulders. She takes a seat in Steve’s open chair at my right-hand side. This won’t be a quick conversation then, but I’ve already spoken to her about the reality show.
I laid out the pros and cons in a spreadsheet, outlining all the reasons why I should be in the show. Mostly for Cobalt Inc.’s benefit. Exposure. Putting a face to our brand. It’s something that my mother wants but has never been able to do.
The only risk is bad press. Fizzle and Hale Co. stocks dropped considerably after Lily’s sex addiction was publicized. I was distanced enough from Rose’s sister that Cobalt Inc. didn’t suffer, but I’m edging myself closer to the Calloways. My mother has voiced her mild disapproval. She doesn’t like taking risks or getting her hands dirty. But that’s why she has me.
“Where are the cameras?” she asks, diving right in.