Page 473 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

“You’re not made to be the CEO. Yet,” Arthur declares.

Knox’s jaw tics. “Don’t hold back, Gramps,” he growls.

Arthur holds up his hands. “I know, you’re upset. But I promise you, when you look back, you’ll understand it was for your own good.”

“That’s what they always say,” Knox says in a bitter voice.

“You’ll still be on the board of directors and lead on one of the smaller companies—”

“I just won't be CEO,” Knox snaps.

“You’ll never lack for money,” Arthur points out.

“I just won't have the power.” The tendons of Knox’s throat bunch.

“I’ve given you a foothold in the company. When you prove yourself, you can climb the ladder like everyone else. There’s nothing keeping you from staking a claim to be the CEO.”

Knox stares at him steadily, “And he has the experience I lack? That’s what you’re trying to say, aren’t you?”

Arthur lowers his chin to his chest. When he speaks, it’s in a matter-of-fact tone, “Edward’s had a few knocks in life, enough to make him worldly-wise. Nathan joined the navy and has been posted all over the world. He has experience making decisions involving the lives of people.”

"Navy, huh?" Knox glares at the new guy.

Nathan tilts his head.

Arthur looks between us. "I realized it wasn’t fair that I put the entire burden of leading the company on Edward, given he’s just gotten married."

Motherfucker. The old man asked me to marry in order to ensure my inheritance. Now, he’s using it as an excuse to hold it back from me, as well. I thought he was canny…but he’s positively Machiavellian.

Arthur’s features are all innocent as he turns to Knox. "I don’t have much time left—"

Knox makes a rude noise, which all of us ignore.

"—and when your grandmother died, she left me information on not only how to track down Edward, but also Nathan."

"And you didn’t think it important to mention it to me?" I ask mildly.

"It came as a surprise to me, too. I only found out a few days ago," Nathan offers.

Arthur pretends to be hurt. "I hope you boys are not going to gang up on me. I merely want what’s best for the family, and for the empire I have built from scratch."

No missing the emphasis on the 'I' there.

"It was your grandmother’s wish that I bring all her grandchildren together, and that they have a vested interest in working together to grow the business," Arthur continues.

"Decision-making by community never works," Knox warns.

"Oh, you don’t have to worry about that." Arthur lays his cards down on the table face-up—a Royal Flush, no less. "The veto power rests with both Edward and Nathan."

Knox draws in a sharp breath.

Sinclair raises his eyebrows.

Arthur looks very pleased with himself.

This…is unexpected. It’s not what I had in mind when I decided to make being the CEO of the Davenport empire my focus.

This…changes things. Considerably. Anger squeezes my chest. A cold sensation percolates through my blood.

I trusted Arthur—perhaps naively, I realize now.

I hoped I would find in him the sense of family I hadn’t had with my own parents.

I miscalculated. Once more, I’ve allowed my emotions to rule me, and it has come to bite me in the arse. Lesson well learnt.

"This is bullshit." Knox jumps up to his feet. "You are going senile, old man." He stabs a finger at Arthur. "And you"—he turns to Nathan—"can go to hell."

He pushes away from the table, grabs his jacket off the back of his chair, and stalks out.

We sit there in silence for several moments.

"Now that that’s out of the way,"—Sinclair grabs the bottle of whiskey—"who can I top up?"

"You’re pissed." Sinclair half carries, half drags me up the steps of my townhouse.

"What I am is pisshhed… Pissshhed… Pishhhhhed offfffff." My words are slurred; I can hear them as if from far away. This is not being drunk. This is…medicinal. Yep, that’s all it issssshhhh. Fuck, I’m slurring in my head now, too.

I miss the next step, stumble and would fall face first if Sinclair doesn’t grab my shoulders and straighten me.

"Fucking hell, Priest, what’s wrong with you?"

"Whatssssh wrrrrong is that I trusssted that fucker."

"You mean Arthur?"

"Ar—fucking—thur… My fucking grandfather. I shhhhouldn’t be surprised; my parents didn’t give a fuck about me, eeeeither. And after the incident, if it hadn't been for B-B-Baron, I wouldn't've sssshurvived."

"Have you spoken to him at all?" His voice softens. "You guys were the best of friends and—"

"I don’t need him in my life. In fact,—" I push away from him, stumble, but manage to find my footing. Why the fuck is the door swaying in front of my eyes? I put one foot in front of the other, reach the door, and am about to knock when it swings open. The most beautiful woman in the world, aka, my wife, stands there. She’s wearing a pair of yoga pants that cling to her thick thighs, and a tiny T-shirt that outlines her gorgeous breasts.

Heat tugs on my lower-belly. My cock thickens. Not that drunk, then.

"Wife, you’re fucking gorgeous."

"And you’re pissed." She slaps her hands on her hips, and her top tightens further.

Now, I can see those sweet nipples outlined against the fabric, too.

I lean in, intent on taking a bite of those gorgeous double-D tits; only, I lose my balance and stagger.

She throws her arms about me. I bend and take a long sniff of her hair.

Apple Blossom. Any remaining blood drains to my cock.

My head spins. I begin to topple over. She yelps, sways.

My knees begin to give way, when a firm hand under my bicep pulls me to my feet again.

I shake my head to clear it, pull away from Sinclair, then brush past her and step inside. I’m dimly aware of Sinclair supporting me on one side. Then, she slides her arm about my waist from the other. I lean my weight on Sinclair and tuck her closer under my arm.

"Alright, let’s get you to your room." Sinclair urges me forward. One step at a time, one foot in front of the other. Why is everything so blurry?

I hear a voice singing from far away. Weird; it’s a familiar voice, but what-fucking-ever.

There will no longer be any emotions in my life.

That much is clear. Then, we’re climbing up the stairs, down the hallway, into my bedroom.

The mattress floats up to meet me. I spin on a cloud of white and grey and blue and red.

So much red. Anger, pain, suffering. I draw in a breath, and my lungs burn. It’s dark, so dark.

There’s a groan; someone else is there with me.

I try to open my eyes, but realize I’m blindfolded.

Try to move my arms, and realize my hands and legs are tied.

I begin to struggle in earnest, trying to break the ropes that bind me, but they seem to tighten with my efforts.

My muscles burn, my heart pounds in my chest. Sweat pours down my face.

Pain screeches up my arms, and I realize the restraints are cutting into my wrists.

Let me go, I didn’t do anything wrong. Let me the hell go.

Oh god, oh god, why am I here? Help me, Lord.

If I get out of here, I’ll forever be grateful.

I’ll make sure I don’t run away from school again.

I’ll be a good boy, I promise. Please, God, please.

Tears squeeze out from the corners of my eyes.

Wetness drips onto my lips. Help, help me, please don’t punish me like this please.

"Edward."

I need to get out of here. I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t. Don’t punish me, I beg you.

"Ed, Eddie."

There's a rustling sound as the door creaks open, followed by footsteps. I try to move my arms and legs but realize I’m tied up.

The space around me lightens, enough for me to make out another figure tied up not far from me.

I blink until the person’s features come into focus.

It’s Baron. Fuck. I strain at my restraints, but they don’t give.

The footsteps come closer; I try to push away from it.

Arms reach for me, and I strain away. "Don’t touch me. Don’t fucking touch me. Don’t."

"Eddie, it’s me!"

I snap my eyes open. Baby blues meet mine. Thick eyelashes, flushed cheeks, rosebud lips. I draw in a shuddering breath, and the scent of sweet apple blossoms coils deep in my chest.

"Ed,"—she swallows—"you were dreaming."

"And now, I’m not." In one swoop, I’ve flipped her on her back on the bed and slammed my palms on either side of her head.