Page 38

CHAPTER 38

ASHTON

My father slips into the booth across from me, looking around the restaurant I chose with thinly veiled judgement. Before the server even comes to get his drink order, he's polishing the silver wear with a— gasp! —paper napkin, looking for all the world like I brought him to a back alley to eat from a dumpster. It's hard not to shake my head and laugh at how ridiculous he is. I'm having a hard time remembering why I used to care so much about his approval. Even when I was pushing back and trying to get away, I cared what he thought. I wanted a relationship with my father like the one Marcus had with Roman. I wanted to be more than an asset to him.

"How's Mimi?" I ask to break the ice. I know from talking to my mother that she's settled into her new home, already giving the staff grief. The head nurse seems to be able to handle her, though, and even ordered a case of non-alcoholic gin for the days where she seems to regress into a younger version of herself. On those days, she demands to see Ken, our family lawyer. The esteemed Mr. Richards has sadly been indisposed, insisting that the poor woman is confused and visiting her would just make things worse. Likewise, my father has stopped visiting, since she almost always thinks he's her ex-husband. I admit to getting a sick joy out of seeing him squirm.

"The doctors don't think she'll recover the cognitive function she lost, but they're hopeful it won't get any worse," he answers diplomatically.

"What's business been like without her?"

My father's jaw clenches, the tiniest crack in his stoic demeanor. There's nothing a weak man hates more than their weaknesses being pointed out. And Matilda Vanderbilt-James is definitely his weakness. Now that I know more about his past, his relationship with her makes more sense. My mother, for all her faults, is pretty passive, not at all manipulative or controlling. It's probably the reason she was chosen, because Mimi wouldn't want my father to marry someone with a backbone or too much ambition. She never did appreciate any sort of perceived competition.

From a very early age, my dad was basically brainwashed. When they divorced, Ashton James Senior was busy turning his successful business into an empire, which left little time for him to cultivate a close relationship with his son. My dad was often left to his own devices, under the care of nannies and staff, or he was with his mother. Mimi, upset by the divorce, turned her only son into a weapon against her ex-husband. She doted on him, but she also gaslit him into believing that she was the only one who loved him, and that she knew what was best for him in all situations. Even as an adult, he's been predisposed to take her lead on everything from who he married, to the business decisions that were made. Whenever they had disagreements, he'd always cave because he knew she'd be relentless.

She was a shrewd businesswoman. I'll give her that. The investments she made and relationships she cultivated made an already wealthy business skyrocket to one of the most successful enterprises in the world. To my knowledge, making friends with politicians and making backdoor deals with powerful people was something she started when she took control, with the help of none other than Kenneth Richards.

Now, for the first time since my father inherited everything, he's on his own and making his own decisions. Despite getting joy out of pointing out my father's mommy issues, I'm genuinely curious how he's managing without her. Is it a relief? Or is he feeling the pressure more without someone to make the decisions for him?

Any semblance of small talk dies when our food is brought out.

"I hope it's okay that I took the liberty of ordering for us," I say, as a family-style meal of carbonara, mussels, caprese salad, and breadsticks is set on the table between us. "I've been here a time or two in the last few months, and I promise you've never eaten Italian food this good." I decide to leave out that it was Marcus' stepfather, Greg, that introduced me to this place.

Dad looks skeptical but doesn't argue. He also doesn't move to serve himself. He's probably expecting the servers to do it for him like he's used to. I start first so he understands what to expect. It seems like such a simple concept, and I forget how different the world is outside of the gilded cage that is my family's mansion. The normalcy of the real world is something I've taken for granted since I've been spending so much time with Marcus. I like it so much better here.

"This is very good," my dad concedes after a few bites of his lunch. "But I'm sure the food isn't what brings us here today."

"I dunno. I've been here almost weekly since discovering this place, and I was craving it since we've been gone." It's not a lie, but I'm deflecting, not sure how to start the conversation I want to have. I want to pretend we're normal for a few more minutes.

"That's right," Dad says, wiping his mouth and setting his napkin back on his lap. "You were in LA for an endorsement shoot? How did that go?"

"Really amazing. It's a cool opportunity that I'm thankful to be part of."

The confusion on my dad's face is apparent. Not only does he not know what the endorsement is for, but the concept of an opportunity being something earned, and not expected, is outside of his grasp.

"Would you like to see? We just got a few of the proofs back." Pulling my phone from my pocket, I pull up one of the photos that was shared with us this morning. "They're not edited or anything, but here are some of the shots they plan to go with. You can scroll through. There are five poses in total." I slide my phone across the table, holding my breath.

There's a small intake of breath, and his shoulders go stiff, but he otherwise controls his expression.

Most of the pictures for the campaign are candid shots of Marcus and me playing some one-on-one, wearing some of the branded merchandise. One of the shots they chose is me behind Marcus, trying to steal the ball he's dribbling, one hand thrown out to block me, his head tipped back in laughter. It's clear in all the photos of us playing how competitive we are, but also how much fun we have together.

"This one is my favorite," I say, swallowing as I scroll to the last shot. I remember the moment the picture was taken, and I plan to have this photo blown up and framed to keep it forever. Marcus was spinning the ball on his fingers while we were waiting for the next shots to be set up. I'd been having so much fun all day, thinking about how fucking perfect he is, and I took a moment to shoot my shot. Coming up behind him, I whispered the three words I'm not sure I've ever said to anyone else, including my parents.

I love you.

The photographer just happened to catch the moment while testing the lighting. It's a close-up shot of Marcus holding the ball in one hand and looking over his shoulder at me, a look of surprise meets awe. Our faces are only inches from each other, moments before we kissed. There was so much love in that moment, and the picture captured it perfectly. No one else but us will ever know just how important that moment was, and I love it even more because of it.

Pointing out the sweatband around Marcus' wrist in the picture, I tell my dad about how it's always been a signature thing of his. I sort of adopted it a while ago, which led to some speculation that was later confirmed when we made our official public statement about being together. "Now, fans show up wearing them to show their support. Marcus pitched to the brand to include them as part of the line and donate one hundred percent of the profits to support queer youth programs." Smiling proudly, I say, "Pretty cool, right?"

Dad clears his throat. "Good for you both."

I'm not sure he means it, and I'm not sure he's only saying it because of our agreement. Either way, I'll take it.

We finish our meals, and I decide it’s time to get down to business.

"I have something I'd like to propose to you," I say, pulling a tablet from the messenger bag next to me. "I hope you don't mind a small presentation? It's nothing professional, just a few ideas I've put together that I'd like to see AJames Enterprises consider implementing."

Dad's gaze shoots to mine, a flash of warning. I take it in stride, pretending not to notice as I prop the tablet up in the case and show him what I've been working on. It's not a slideshow or proper presentation, but I have graphs and charts about the economic impact of the company, and how we could change many of our policies and investments to not only benefit others but continue to grow as a company. I show him my ideas for economic and environmental initiatives as well as community outreach and show how the changes could have a positive impact on profits. I decide to save what I'd like to do with those profits and the extra assets, like the protected land trust I know he's sitting on for another time, so I don't overwhelm him.

To his credit, he listens to everything I have to say, even asking questions or making suggestions here and there. I think it's the first time in my life I've ever felt heard.

When it’s over, he takes a few moments of silence to contemplate everything I’ve just proposed. "May I ask a pointed question?"

"Sure."

"Do I have a choice in the matter?"

I consider my father thoughtfully. It was a pointed question. One might even say it was rude or combative, but his directness doesn't feel defensive at all. He knows I hold the cards, and I know that if I played them, he would likely survive and keep thriving. AJames Enterprises is too big to fail. They'd take a hit financially, but they can afford it, and any action would likely be tied up in litigation for years before anything came of it. Hell, my dad and Kenneth Richards could probably find their way out of it entirely. But I have a feeling my dad either doesn't want to deal with the trouble, or maybe he's the smallest bit impressed that I'm standing up to him.

"I would like to see us work together on this. AJames Enterprises is a family business, after all, and you've always wanted me to get involved or take over someday. We can work out some of the finer details, but overall, no. One way or another, I plan to modernize and rebuild AJames Enterprises into a company that doesn't rely on illegal and immoral practices and corporate greed. And I'll do what it takes to see my vision come to fruition." I hand him a folder with a contract of terms I'd like him to agree to, giving him until after the NCAA championship to discuss with his lawyer and propose amendments. "My attorney's card is in the folder as well. You can reach out to her if you have any questions."

Despite my straight posture and calm demeanor, I'm freaking out a little inside. I'm waiting for the pushback, the challenge of my audacity. But instead…

"I'm proud of you, son. I know I haven't said that enough about the things you've accomplished so far. I've never seen you as serious or passionate about anything outside of basketball. The research you've done, the way you presented it, your convictions—I'm impressed."

As much as those words pull something from my gut I never realized I wanted or needed so much, I know it's never going to be as easy as that. "But?"

He nods. "But we have a board and investors that are going to be much harder to convince."

I was ready for this. "How many of those investors are making money on underhanded deals with politicians and insider trading?" He doesn't need to answer for me to know that it's all of them. Every. Last. One.

"So you're going to blackmail your way into a hostile takeover of my company, then?"

"If I have to, yes. I'd prefer to call it an ethical overhaul. You can alert your board that they have the option to step down willingly, but their financial portfolios are already being reviewed by the IRS and FBI." I stand and straighten my button-down shirt and dark slacks. "You're with me or against me, Dad. But it'd be really nice to have some support while I'm in grad school."

"Is this Marcus Vell's influence?"

It's hard to hide the way my spine stiffens defensively at the mention of his name.

"Probably. I've learned a lot about the kind of person I want to be from him and his family."

"And if you lose everything your grandparents built?"

"We both know AJames Enterprises is too big to truly fail. But let me ask you this: when you have more money than you could spend across several lifetimes, what's the point? Our whole country is suffering because of decisions made by people like us, who have no concept of what it means to live in the real world. Because of greed. If we're not part of the solution, we're part of the problem."

With that, I give my dad a polite nod and excuse myself, leaving him there with nothing but a folder of thinly veiled threats.