“That’s why I’m so good!” I protest.
“No, that’s why you’re so exhausted. You’re not capable of taking on the burden alone, and if you don’t get ahold of yourself, I’ll start looking around for someone else to take my share.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Not at all. I’m trying to push you to take care of yourself. You could be my son, God knows I think of you as one, but if you can’t hear what I’m telling you, I’ll be forced to make decisions on your behalf.”
“If you don’t want to dismiss me, then what do you have in mind?”
Sax comes to a halt right in front of me. “Take a holiday.”
Huh? “I don’t understand.”
“How long has it been since you took a break? When was your last vacation?”
“A few months ago,” I guess. I always promise myself I’ll take a break, but I put it off every time an interesting deal or a new client appears.
“It was four years ago,” he replies. “I had HR check this morning.”
“Time flies when you’re having fun,” I comment sarcastically.
“You think you’re invincible. I thought so too at your age, but I have bad news for you: You happen to be human and, like everyone else, you need a rest.”
“Are you forcing me to go on holiday?”
“I want you back one hundred percent, not at half-mast, tired and sloppy. A distraction here can cost our customers millions of pounds and us our reputation. It’s my responsibility to ensure the business isn’t exposed to risk.”
This lecture is starting to annoy me. “Don’t you think you’re making a big deal out of a little tardiness, Saxton?”
“Maybe, but at sixty, I know a problem when I see one, and you’re a ticking time bomb. As of today you’re on leave for a month, and that’s an order, Michael.”
“May I object?”
“No.”
Giving up, I look down at the table grain. “Fine. But only because you leave me no choice—not because I agree.”
“And when I retire, I will give you my share, not because I have no choice but because you’ll deserve it.”
“How can I prove I deserve it if you shut me out of the office? It’s so ... humiliating.”
“Spare me your pride and self-pity and be smart enough to admit you’re not at the top of your game. You may not see it now, but believe me, I’m helping you. Tell Penny to transfer your schedule to me and go home.”
“So what does this mean, a mandatory holiday?” Charles asks me over a sushi lunch at Nobu. “Are you complaining? If only I could have one! The closest I get to a holiday is a trip to see clients in Milan the day after tomorrow to show them samples for next year’s autumn-winter collection.”
“Saxton says I’m exhausted.” Just thinking about it notches up my blood pressure. “I told him I wasn’t remotely fatigued—do I seem exhausted to you?”
“No, not in the slightest,” Charles replies with a sarcastic grin.
“What have you decided to do with the inheritance?” I ask. He’d asked me for advice, but I decided to let him think about it first.
“I declined. As much as it pains me, the cons outweigh the pros.”
I could have predicted as much: If Charles’s future plans didn’t include a house in Tuscany, he wouldn’t be one to change them. “Makes sense ... Wait a minute ...” A thought we hadn’t considered comes to mind. Well, it’s normal that Charles wouldn’t have considered it. He has no eye for investments, but that it didn’t occur to me is downright shocking. Maybe Saxton is right—I am exhausted.
“What is it?” he asks me with his mouth full.
“Have you already sent the formal renunciation?”
