Page 195 of Theirs to Desire (Club M: Boxed Set)

DAMIEN

A s expected, I didn’t really need to attend my two a.m. meeting.

The Australian division of the Cardenas Group is switching payroll software providers, and the team in charge of vendor selection is presenting their findings.

Payroll is important; I get that. We employ a lot of people, people who depend on their salaries to pay their bills and feed their families.

But Jack Rutherford, the president of that division, is on this call.

He’s closer to this issue and more than capable of making this decision.

This is a complete waste of time.

I sip a cup of extra-strong coffee and listen to the presentation. There’s a discussion about the various options, and the committee selects two companies to shortlist. Looks like we’re done. Good.

I lean forward. “Jack, if you have a minute, could you give me a call?”

My phone rings almost immediately. “Is something wrong?” he asks.

Rutherford worked extensively with my father. Not as much with me. I’ve only talked to the man a handful of times. I haven’t needed to. The Australian subsidiary takes care of itself.

“Help me understand something.” I drain the dregs of my coffee with a grimace. My pulse is racing, and my throat feels dry. Too much caffeine and not enough sleep. “It seems like your team had everything under control. Why did I need to be involved?”

He sounds confused when he replies. “It's company policy.”

“What is?”

“Major purchases require a sign-off from the head office,” he says. “It was a rule your father put into place.”

I wipe my hand over my face. Even with customization, the payroll software costs less than a million dollars. The Australian division makes many times that amount every year. This is not a major purchase.

“Why didn’t you invite someone from the corporate IT team, then? Ramesh? Shana?”

“That wasn’t how your father liked it,” Jack replies. “He liked it to be a member of the family.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. My parents built the Cardenas Group up from nothing into the conglomerate that it is today. However, it’s still run like a family company. Sometimes, that’s a good thing. Other times, like now, it’s insane.

And I can guess why I got roped into this meeting. Jack, trying to follow the rules, would have invited my mother or Tomas. Their shared assistant, Gisele, guards their time with ferocious zeal, so she would have declined the meeting and forwarded the request to Luis instead.

Vicky doesn’t take meetings at two in the morning. Neither does Cristiano. Which leaves me.

It’s always me.

This level of micromanagement is crazy. Insane.

Our top people are going to get poached away from us if we second-guess their every decision.

Jack has run the Australian division for the last eight years.

He delivers double-digit revenue growth every single year.

And in the mining sector, which makes his achievement even more impressive.

Employee retention is significantly better than the industry average. Morale is excellent.

Rutherford is ferociously competent. Why are we treating him this way? We should shower him with rewards, not putting these ridiculous constraints on him.

“I’ll talk to my mother and Tomas about that ridiculous rule,” I say.

“But Jack, in the meantime, here’s what we’re going to do.

You can keep inviting me to the meetings, but I’m going to decline them all.

If there’s anything you think I need to attend, let Luis know, and he’ll make sure I’m there. ”

When I’m done with the meeting, I call Melanie Succar, who works on my strategy team, and tell her what Jack Rutherford told me.

“We need to streamline things,” I tell her.

“There’s a bunch of rules that make no sense for a company our size.

Can you investigate and come up with a list of recommendations?

I’m looking for both short-term and long-term stuff. ”

“I’m on it,” she promises.

I finally crawl into bed at four in the morning. Of course, sleep doesn't come. My body doesn't know what time zone it's in, but that’s not the only reason.

I'm also thinking about Sophia.

I haven't allowed myself to think about that night for so many years. What would be the point? But now, seeing her again, it all comes back to life. The feel of her skin. The sound of her laughter. The gleam in her eyes. She had been a powerfully addictive drug in my blood, and I hadn’t wanted to let her go.

I don't get why she blew us off. I don’t understand why she thinks I got her fired. I really don't. Why would I? It was a good night. The sex was off-the-charts fantastic, but it was more than that. We had a connection. I could have sworn we all felt it.

It hadn't felt like a one-night stand for either Julian or me. We both wanted to see her again. We might not have been ready for marriage and children—we were in our mid-twenties, and that kind of commitment felt like a long way off—but we knew she was important. We knew we didn’t want to let her go.

Yes, we hooked up in a sex club, and there was some spanking and bondage. But there was also kissing and cuddling. We fell asleep together, all three of us. We liked her, and we didn’t hide it. We didn’t play it cool.

At least, that’s what I thought.

It's bewildering to me.

The years have been kind to Sophia. She’s just as beautiful as she used to be.

No, more. The girl with the shining eyes has become a self-assured, controlled woman, and I’m a moth to her flame.

Lord help me, but I want to get her on a bed and thrust into her.

I want to hear her moans again. I want to watch that control unravel.

Maybe you’re looking for a second chance with her.

Damn it, I hate when Julian is right.

I don't even know what motivated me to suggest that deal. It was an impulse. She was at the point of walking away, and I would never see her again. I was desperate to prevent that.

Still, it’s a good cause. We give money to plenty of nonprofits, and the Highfield Community Health Center is a worthy recipient.

I even own a home in Highfield. I bought this lake house a couple of years ago, much to the confusion of my family.

“But it’s in the middle of nowhere,” Vicky said when I told her what I’d done.

“New York, I understand. Boston is historic. Washington is a necessary evil. But this?”

My family won’t be surprised that I’ve given a million dollars to a community health organization. If they even find out about it. If I want to keep the questions to a minimum, I can just donate that money out of my personal funds, not the company’s.

I end up getting two hours of sleep, maybe three. Thanks to jet lag, I wake up at seven, make myself a cup of coffee, and walk out to the lake. It’s a beautiful day. The surface is flat, a sleek glass mirror that reflects the cloudless blue sky.

If I don’t look at my phone or pay attention to the seventy-four urgent emails in my inbox, I can pretend it’s everything the doctor ordered.

Ignoring my phone is easier said than done. I get through my first cup without looking at it. Then I give in to the impulse and regret it immediately.

I have six meetings on my schedule tomorrow.

Six.

I told my family I needed a break. I asked them to keep the meetings to a minimum. I’ve been in Highfield less than twenty-four hours, and already, the demands have started.

I call Luis first thing Monday morning. “My calendar is packed,” I complain in Spanish. “Six meetings today, Luis. What the hell?”

Luis sounds just as exasperated as I feel. “Senor Cardenas, I have told people you are unavailable. I have declined all non-essential meetings. I am trying. But your mother insisted that you sit in on the Pardini meeting, the Acra takeover prep, and the Minsk contract negotiations.”

My mother insisted.

I have to get a handle on this.

The Cardenas Group is a multinational conglomerate.

We operate in seventy-three countries. Last year, we earned two-point-three billion dollars in revenue.

But we started out as a family company, and it shows.

Like many family businesses that have grown bigger than the founders expected, we don't have any structures and processes in place.

My father worked himself to death. My mother remarried, but she can’t seem to change her old patterns. She installed Tomas, her new husband, as the CEO because outsiders can’t be relied on. Only family can be trusted.

Tomas, who used to head up the Accounting department at Cardenas and was on the brink of retirement when my father died, is woefully unqualified for the CEO job.

He’s miserable. Vicky, who’s juggling a demanding job and two young children, is at her wit's end. Cristiano is moving to New York, getting married to his partner, and trying to have a baby. He doesn’t have time for pointless meetings, either.

A year ago, Magnus almost left him. Ever since then, my brother has pulled back from the firm.

“I won’t let work wreck my life,” he said flatly.

“I won’t let it come between Magnus and me again. ”

We’ve all tried to change the situation, but my mother, the controlling shareholder, won’t hear of it. She insists we preserve the status quo. Any attempts to modernize or delegate are met with, “That isn't how your father would have done it.”

Nobody gets more stuff dumped on their plate than me.

I am the oldest son. My mother doesn’t have as many expectations of Victoria.

Partly because Vicky is a woman—internalized misogyny is a hell of a drug—and partly because my sister has a family.

I've thought about getting married and knocking somebody up for the same measure of space, but it probably wouldn't work. In Maria Cardenas’ world, women take care of children, while men work at the family firm.

Any sort of change would involve a very hard conversation with my mother. I might have to threaten to quit. I might have to do more than threaten. But that would devastate her, and I can’t do that. Not yet. My father died only three years ago. She needs time.

So I'm trapped. We’re all trapped.

“Senor?”

Two weeks ago, I thought I had a heart attack. My doctor told me if I didn’t make the appropriate lifestyle changes, I would follow my father into an early grave.

I don't want that.

“Who’s attending the Pardini meeting on our end?”

“Anita Formoso.”

“Okay, good. Anita can handle it. I trust her judgment. I won’t make the Acra call either, which is a preliminary discussion between our lawyers and theirs.

They can hammer out the contract details without me there.

Have Rafal send me a summary of the discussions.

Same with the Minsk negotiations and the rest of these meetings. ”

“Got it.”

I’m preparing to hang up when I remember yesterday’s conversation with Sophia. “Luis, when's your birthday?

“October thirteenth,” he responds, sounding confused. “Why?”

Because according to Sophia, I don't pay attention to the people around me. Because I lack empathy. “When it rolls around, schedule yourself the day off,” I tell him.

“Senor Cardenas, are you okay? Are you ill?”

“No, no, I’m fine.” I cross my fingers and continue. “And Emma and Olivia?” I really hope I’ve got their names right. “Everything’s good at their new school?”

Luis sounds puzzled. “Yes. They’re enjoying it very much. They have been there for a year now, you know.”

“Oh.” Has it really been a year? I feel foolish now. Luis probably thinks I'm losing it. “Okay, great. Talk to you later.”

At nine, I call Sophia at work. A woman picks up the phone. “Highfield Community Health Center,” she says. “Can I help you?”

“Could I speak to Sophia Thorsen, please?” I might not remember the name of Luis' children, but remembering Sophia's last name is not a problem. I don’t know what that says about me.

“Just a minute.”

Sophia picks up a moment later. “Sophia Thorsen,” she says cheerfully. “Hello?”

“It’s Damien Cardenas.”

“Damien.” Enthusiasm drains from her voice in an instant. “What a pleasure.”

Yeah, that sounds believable. The Health Center is hard up for money, and I'm not above using that to get what I want. “I thought we might continue the conversation we started on Saturday night.”

“The conversation where you promised to donate a million dollars to the Highfield Community Health Center in return for empathy lessons? I thought about what you said, and the only explanation I came up with was that you were drunk.”

“I wasn’t. Are you free for lunch? I’d like to discuss the donation I'm planning to make to the Highfield Clinic.”

“It’s the Highfield Community Health Center,” she bites out. “And unfortunately, yes. I happen to be free for lunch. Where would you like to meet?”

“I'll pick you up. Noon? Great. See you then.” I hang up before she can protest.

I have no illusions about lunch. Sophia would prefer to have nothing to do with me.

She’s going to be hostile, snipe at me, and make sarcastic jokes at my expense.

And I’m looking forward to it, more than I’ve looked forward to anything in recent memory.

I don't know what that says about the state of my life, but there it is.

My mother's number flashes on my phone.

I reluctantly answer.

“Are you sick, Damien?” she demands.

What does she know? Dr. Zambrano wouldn't have said anything to her, as that would violate his ethics. What has she heard, and who from?

“What are you talking about?”

“Luis told Gisele that you were acting strangely. And you canceled all your meetings today? What is going on?”

Ah, okay. “Nothing is going on, Mama.”

“Then why did you have Luis cancel all your meetings?”

I try to keep the exasperation out of my voice and fail. “Because I slept two hours last night. I can barely keep my eyes open.”

Relief fills her voice. “That’s it? You had me worried there. Take a day off, of course. Take two, if you need. Victoria will cover for you.”

“She doesn’t have to, Mama. We have good people working for us. They will handle it.”

“Or the meetings can be postponed,” she says, completely ignoring my interjection. “If we have to, that's what we’ll do.”

“Do not postpone the meetings. Anita and Rafal are more than capable of dealing with this.”

My words finally get through. “The Pardini meeting, okay. Acra, fine. But the Minsk negotiations are important, Damien. I’ll have your sister do it.” Her voice softens. “Get some rest, mijo. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Twenty minutes later, I get a text from Vicky.

I have to attend the Minsk meetings? Damien, what the hell? Tonight was date night. Miguel and I haven't gone out for three months.

I take a deep breath and type out a reply.

Go on your date night. I’ll handle it.

Nothing changes. Nothing ever does. Thank fuck for lunch with Sophia.