“Is dat wat je vader wilde?” Is that what your father wanted?
Bash looked out the window, away from his mother. “Mam, het spijt me, maar hij is dood. Ik wil zijn nalatenschap eren, maar wordt het niet tijd dat ik volg wat ik wil doen?” Mom, I’m sorry, but he’s dead. I want to honor his legacy, but isn’t it time that I follow what I want to do?
Sophie released his hand. She had no response to that.
Their black SUV, driven by one of the family’s personal drivers, parked outside the sleek building that formed the headquarters of Koning Kapitaalgroep. The building was called the KAC, the Keizerlijk Amsterdam Centrum, or the Imperial Amsterdam Center. It was a monstrosity of modern architecture, a glass-and-steel blight on the horizon. Thirty-five of the building’s fifty floors were made up by Koning Kapitaalgroep.
It was a cold, rainy day in Amsterdam, and the driver, a man named Jan, got out first and held an umbrella over Sophie’s head. He offered an umbrella to Bash, who waved it away.
Sophie wore a smart black dress with a black veil, a full, old-fashioned widow. Bash wore a black suit with a black shirt, no tie. He followed Jan and his mother into the KAC, where they entered a vast, vaulted lobby. Businesspeople in dark suits and snappy dresses were hurried about, doing important things (or things they thought were important).
“Dankjewel, Jan,” Sophie said. Thank you, Jan.
Their driver nodded, closed the umbrella, and hurried back into the rain.
“Ben je er klaar voor, Sebastiaan?” Sophie said, turning to Bash. Are you ready, Sebastiaan?
A slim blonde intern met them in the atrium, offered his condolences, and then led them to the forty-ninth floor, where the board met in a massive conference room, which had two full walls of windows. A long table sat in the center of the room, surrounded by people in dark business clothes. Their faces looked mostly sour. Bottles of still and sparkling water sat before them. Two chairs were empty, one for Sophie, one for Bash.
The president of the board was Kristof Ooms, a professional boards member and retired businessman from Belgium. He stood when Sophie and Bash entered, inclining his head at them.
“Madame Koning, Monsieur Koning. Mes sincères condoléances,” he said in French. My sincere condolences.
“Merci, Monsieur Ooms,” Sophie said. She switched to Dutch. “Nu. Moeten we bespreken wat we met het bedrijf gaan doen.” Now. We must discuss what we’re going to do with the company.
“Ja. We moeten ervoor zorgen dat de aandelenkoersen niet dalen,” Ooms said. Yes. We must make sure that stock prices don’t go down.
Bash tried not to roll his eyes. His father was barely in the grave, and they were talking about stock prices. Absurd.
Ooms must’ve seen Bash’s facial expression, because he turned to him and said, “Aviez-vous quelque chose à dire, Monsieur Koning?” Did you want to say something, Mr. Koning?
Bash switched to French to address the board president. “Oui. Je trouve cette entreprise ridicule et je ne veux rien avoir à faire avec elle.” Yes. I think this business is silly, and I don’t want any part of it.
There were murmurs around the table.
“Sebastiaan,” hissed his mother.
“Nee. Dit is niet de plek waar ik thuishoor.” No. This isn’t where I belong.
He stood. “I’m going home,” he said in English.
“Sebastiaan,” his mother said.
He bent down to kiss her cheek. “Dit is jouw plek, moeder. Niet de mijne.” This is your place, mother. Not mine.
She looked up at him with sad eyes and then sighed. “Ga maar. Ik zie je later.” Go ahead. I’ll see you later.
He left the boardroom without another word and didn’t look back.
Chapter 26
Adonis
The third day after Adonis returned to Bellford, he got a text from Guy Tierney.
Guy: Hey! I know this is last-minute, but I wasn’t sure if you’d be back in time. I’m having a birthday dinner tonight, and I’d love if you could make it!
Adonis, who’d spent most of the past three days alone in his apartment, or hanging out with Clarisse and trying to readjust to being back on campus, was glad for the excuse to get away from Bellford. His thoughts had been caught up with worry for Bash, and he needed a distraction.
