“You didn’t try anything else,” my mom says with a distasteful twist of her mouth. “You could have taken over my accounting business. I would have been happy to hand it to you.”
“I’m horrible at math. Besides, I’m doing okay now,” I say, hopeful that I’ve finally proven to her that my one rebellion was truly the best choice for me.
My mom pins a hard look on me. “You know your success is temporary. Soon you’ll be back to struggling to pay your rent.”
My throat swells, and I bite the inside of my lip so the small physical pain can distract me from my turbulent emotions. I hold my dad’s hand tighter, stroke my thumb over his pockmarked knuckles. He doesn’t hold me back.
“You know I tell you these things so it’ll hurt less when you hear it from others,” my mom says softly.
Swallowing past the tightness in my throat, I nod.
“Mom is tired, so I’m going to sleep now.” She strokes my hair much like Julian did earlier, and I hold still and let her, even though it feels like ants are crawling on my scalp. It’s how she demonstrates affection for me. When I was young, I lashed out when people—my grandparents, aunts, uncles, et cetera—tried to touch me this way, and I was chastised and punished for it. It hurt people’s feelings and made them feel rejected, a terrible sin, especially between a child and an elder, so I learned, by necessity, to grit my teeth through it. I grit my teeth now. “You’re a good girl, Anna. What we’re doing is hard, but you don’t complain. You always listen. You make me proud.”
With one last pat on my head, she leaves. Tears swim in my eyes before falling onto the back of my dad’s hand. I wipe them away with my sleeve, but they keep falling.
I don’t make a single sound as I cry.
THIRTY
Quan
“SO GOOD TO MEET YOU IN PERSON AT LAST,” I TELL PAUL RICHARD, head of LVMH Acquisitions, as I shake his hand.
“Likewise.” He flashes a polite smile at me, and after unbuttoning his suit coat, he sits in the chair across from me at the restaurant table.
I’ve been looking forward to this meeting all week. It’s our last meeting before we finalize the terms in the contracts. After that, we’re signing.
Michael Larsen Apparel is going to be an LVMH Mo?t Hennessy Louis Vuitton company.
But this guy is giving me strange vibes. I don’t know what it is exactly, but something isn’t right.
A waiter offers to fill his water glass, and he waves them away. “No need, I won’t be long.” Focusing on me, he says, “You probably have lots of questions, so let me reassure you that yes, we want Michael Larsen and the MLA brand under our umbrella. We’re de voted to making this happen. And I must say, your leadership of the company up until now has been impressive.”
“Thank you,” I say, thinking maybe I was wrong about him. “It’s been really exciting getting the company off the ground. I’m looking forward to working with your team as we continue to grow.”
“It would be a learning experience for you, I’m sure,” Paul says, and there it is again. That strange vibe. “Especially given your limited experience.”
I sit up straighter in my chair as alarm shoots up my spine. “That hasn’t been an issue for us so far.”
Paul makes a point of adjusting the diamond cuff link on his pristine white sleeve before saying, “Let’s cut straight to the chase. You’re not the right person to lead the company post acquisition. We’re going to instate a CEO with the proper credentials, but if you’re interested, we would like you to head the sales team.”
My body heats up until I can feel my neck burning beneath the collar of my T-shirt and sports jacket. “We were assured since the beginning that Michael and I would remain in our current positions.”
“Michael definitely needs to remain,” Paul says.
And I understand what he’s not saying: Michael is essential. I’m not.
“You and Michael Larsen are family, is that correct?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
Watching me steadily, he says, “I know it would be easy to take this personally and turn the deal down, but you need to ask yourself if that would be the best thing for Michael. I’m telling you now, if you do that, you won’t hear from us again. This is a once-in-a-lifetime offer.” Before I can say anything, he gets up, buttons his suit coat, and checks his watch, frowning like our two-second meeting ran long. “I’m going to have the lawyers put a pause on the contracts. A week should be enough time for you to think things over. You have my contact information. I hope I hear good news a week from Monday.”