Page 22 of Rival Hearts

I had to see this through, no matter what. The last thing I was going to do was give it all up for a guy when I’d dedicated my whole life to it.

No matter how incredible that guy seemed.

6

ALEX

When I walked into my office at the end of the week, Dad stood at the full-length windows overlooking the waterfront.

He wore a tailored suit, his posture upright, hands clasped behind his back. His beard was neatly trimmed, his salt-and-pepper hair neatly combed back.

From the day my parents had adopted me, my dad had always been like this—dressed immaculately, serious about the image he put out to the world.

“Ah,” he said and turned to me. “There you are.”

“Did we have an appointment?” I checked my wristwatch.

“No, no. Can’t a father drop by and visit his sons?” He smiled at me, the creases around his eyes fanning out. His eyes were a slate gray, the eyes of someone who knew a lot about life but he never acted superior or condescending. Hell of a feat for a man who’d started an empire and had more money than most of the wealthy men in the States combined.

But Thomas Blackwood had always been the kind of man to see others for who they really were and put them first.

Both my parents were like that. Of all the households I could have been adopted into, I was fucking lucky it had been this one.

“How did your meeting with the investors go? Chris said it was at the beginning of the week.” I walked to the wet bar in the corner and poured us each a drink. It wasn’t even noon yet, but I could do with a drink after that meeting.

“Fine. They’re happy with Chris’s ideas, of course. They always are.”

“I’ve never seen someone design yachts the way he does,” Dad agreed, nodding. “Magic fingers. But all you Blackwood boys are like that. Magic in your veins… it must run in the family.” He grinned, and I couldn’t help but smile.

My parents had always talked about us as if we’d been born into this family, as if we actually had Blackwood blood in our veins. I was pretty damn sure that if someone came up to my dad and pointed out that we were adopted he would have fallen flat on his back in shock.

They’d made us feel like we were everything from day one, even if it had been a rough ride at times.

My smile faded again.

“What’s up?” Dad crossed his ankle over his knee, sitting back in the armchair he’d made himself comfortable in. I handed him the whiskey tumbler and sat down in the other armchair rather than sitting behind my desk. I sipped my whiskey before I answered.

“The meeting went well, but I worry.”

“About?”

“It’s a rat race out there.”

Dad nodded slowly. “It’s not easy being on top. What did they say that’s eating at you?”

“You’ve heard about the activist campaign? The news doing the rounds…”

“I’ve heard.” Dad swirled his drink in his glass. “Something to do with yacht emissions.”

“Right.” I sipped my whiskey. “They wanted to know what we were going to do about it.”

“And?”

I shrugged. “Chris told them we always focus on sustainability and being eco-friendly, all that bullshit that they need to hear.”

“Chrisdoesmake sure things are all above board,” Dad pointed out.

“I know, I know. I’m not suggesting we’re doing anythingwrongper se. But yachts have emissions once they’re produced, no matter how much we focus on the environmental standards, and that’s the part I worry about. Electric cars are a thing now;going greenis the buzzword the influencers are dropping left and right, but we don’t have solar power yachts or electric ports where they can charge up after a cruise.”