Page 15 of How to Break My Heart

“Everyone is dismissed,” my father commands. “Except you, Aston.”

Just. Fucking. Great.

Noise elevates as the men chatter while exiting the room. Will informs me he’ll call later since he needs to rush to midtown for a meeting with his father-in-law.

As the final person leaves the room and the door closes, my father sits across from me with an arrogant smile. A smile that reminds me I look more like my mother than this bastard.

“I’m guessing you’ve heard the news?”

Over the years, he has aged, his hair silver but still slicked back in the same style he’s had since he was young. He wears a maroon cravat, another piece of clothing that needs to be buried with Chalmers’s sport jacket.

I tilt my head. “What news?”

“Your sister is getting married.”

My head jerks back at his words.Damn! This explains why she was trying to call me earlier.Madelina has been dating Myles for what, a few months? I’m not one to pay attention to other people’s relationships, but it doesn’t feel long. Still, Myles is a decent guy. I met him years ago at one of my father’s functions. Since they’ve been dating, we’ve caught up for dinner and drinks, though he’s never mentioned marriage. Generally, we talk about business and baseball, since he’s also a Yankees fan. His production company is doing well—he’s got a good eye when it comes to theater.

“She tried to call me earlier,” I inform him. “If it makes her happy, then there’s nothing left to say about it.”

“The boy is from a good family,” he states with a raised brow.

“You mean a rich family?”

“I want the best for my daughter. Is there anything wrong with that?”

Where to begin?I ask myself, as if this old bastard gives two fucks about his daughter’s happiness. All he cares about is how our family looks to everyone else.

“Is there anything else we need to discuss?” I quickly check the time on my phone, uninterested in whatever game my father is playing right now. “I have another meeting to attend.”

“This wedding will be the perfect opportunity for us to secure a deal with the Whitney Group. Myles Whitney is the son of Roland Whitney. Roland owns the land on the northern border of Cinnamon Springs, where the tree line starts. We’ve been trying to acquire it for the last twenty years.” His voice turns cold as he leans in, eyes fixed on me. “We give the Whitney family a dream wedding for their only son, and then we convince Myles to sell us the land. After all, he will be the new heir of the Whitney fortune. So you give your sister and Myles whatever they want, no matter how costly. You make sure this wedding cements the ties between our two families. Don’t screw this up—you understand me, boy?”

I cross my arms, glaring at the man who is supposed to love his children unconditionally.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mumble.

“I don’t kid, as you so ineloquently put it, when my business is at stake,” he raises his voice.

“You’ve got more money than you know what to do with,” I remind him. “Why do you need some piece of land to make more?”

My father observes me with an unrelenting stare. That same stare would intimidate me when I was a kid, but as I grew older, I learned to meet it with my own.

“Once the Beaumont Group owns the land, it opens up endless opportunities. Cinnamon Springs would benefit from another resort, or perhaps a new golf course with state-of-the-art facilities.This would give us a steady lead in property investments since the Gellar Corporation acquired the industrial end of town. It’s not about needing more money.” My father pushes his chair back, standing up. “It’s aboutpower. Surely, son, you should know that by now.”

And with those words, he leaves the room.

My fists clench tight, desperate to punch the wall. Instead, I take a deep breath and decide to find an incompetent asshole I can take it out on in the office.

Then, I will pretend this conversation never happened.

For the sake of my sister.

Across the table, Will is watching me swirl bourbon aimlessly. It’s my second glass; the first did absolutely nothing.

After the day I had, Will knew I needed a hard drink and suggested we go out after work. If anyone understands the pressure I’m under, it’s Will Romano. He’s a billionaire in his own right who owns several tech companies. In the past two years, he branched out into real estate holdings, which is how we met.

“You’re letting him get to you,” Will is quick to remind me. “Stick with our original plan, and Pops will have no say in the matter.”

His sarcastic “Pops” is enough for a slight chuckle.God, why the fuck is this drink not hitting the spot?I loosen my tie in an effort to relax.