Page 6

I’ve seen my dad’s life. The long hours and never-ending list of meetings. The missed birthday parties, the missed recitals and games, and whatever else my sister and I had going on at the time. Was that really my dream, too?

Dad wanted me to jump right to the top once I graduated, but I saw the stares before I even set foot in that building on my first day.

Sure, I’d watched him my entire life and knew more about every business under our name than most people, including some of his employees, but I wanted to earn my position.

No, I needed to.

Would having it handed to me be easier? Sure.

But what’s fun about things being easy?

I love a challenge.

And maybe that was what drew my attention to Gretchen Chapman.

I thought she’d be someone who wanted to work hard.

Turns out, the only thing she wanted hard was me, and I hate to admit this, but she wasn’t even that good at making that happen.

“I’ll deal with the board when I get back,” I say, having moved up only a few spots in line, thanks to a guy who doesn’t want to gate check his bag and is arguing that it’ll fit.

This is why I never fly commercial.

There are so many rules, and somehow, there is always one person who thinks they are the exception to the rule and makes their issue everyone’s issue.

Jesus, even that thought makes me feel like a pompous ass.

But moments like this make having a family airplane worth it.

But also, moments like this, one where I don’t want my father to track me or know where I'm going, require flying like the majority of travelers.

Of course, Dad could have someone hack into my computer and see where I purchased a ticket, too, but as long as I keep talking to him and don’t ghost him, I doubt he will.

An announcement for the next group begins, and I must be standing right under a speaker, based on how loud it is.

“And where are you going? I don’t remember seeing a flight on the schedule for today.”

“I’m flying commercial,” I say, and the woman in front of me peeks over her shoulder, her beady brown eyes looking me up and down before she turns her focus back to the line.

“Ah, running. I see.”

“I’m not running, Dad, I just need to clear my head.”

Word of my breakup clicked a lot faster for the rest of the world than it did for Gretchen. So fast that every gossip magazine already has my face on the cover and is announcing my bachelorhood while wondering whether, if I can't even lock down a wife, I’ll be able to run a company.

That’s where complicated comes in.

As if those two things are even something you could compare. Shitty husbands run successful companies all the time. Not that I think I would be a shitty husband, but fuck … it’s wonderful to be in the public eye the way I am.

And even more wonderful? The headlines have made the board of King Enterprises question my loyalty and competence.

There’d already been talk about me and my commitment issues—and this only intensified the concerns.

It’s completely insane. I’ve never once mixed business with pleasure. There is not one single reason people should doubt my commitment to anything business-related. Just because I’m not dropping to my knees to commit my life to someone doesn’t mean I can’t commit to my job.

It’s absolute bullshit. I knew I needed to get out of town before I lost my shit. Take a moment to regroup and come up with a plan.

Then, last night, when I saw the second-most prominent headline, the one for Lovers Lodge’s downfall, I knew exactly what I needed to do.