Page 211 of Theirs to Desire (Club M: Boxed Set)

DAMIEN

I 've been in Highfield for a little over a week and a half. In that time, I've attended thirty-seven meetings, answered hundreds of emails, and have worked at least eight hours a day every single day.

And I'm supposed to be on vacation.

Yesterday, I rebelled. I called Luis and told him that I was going to be unavailable. I put my phone in airplane mode and ignored my laptop.

It was amazing.

To be fair, much of my good mood this morning is not because of my day off. It’s because of Sophia.

Last night was amazing. Truly special. And it’s not the sex. Don’t get me wrong—the sex was off-the-charts hot. In fact, if I think about it for too long, I’m going to get a hard-on. Which is something I’d like to avoid, given I have to talk to one of my employees, Rafal, in ten minutes.

What’s much more important is the connection between us. It felt special. It felt right. And this time, I’m not going to let it slip through my fingers. I’m older now, and I know what a rare gift this feeling is. I won’t let it go.

As tempting as it is to turn off my phone for the rest of the month, I cannot. Luis is probably already feeling the heat from my mother, Tomas, Gisele, and Victoria. From everybody. It's a shitshow, but it's not his shitshow to manage. It's mine.

Once Sophia and Julian leave, I take my phone off airplane mode. Emails start to flood into my inbox. Thirteen of them are marked Urgent. My mother has left me two messages, and Vicky has called three times.

Fuck me. I rub my chest. I turned off my phone for one day—on a Saturday when people shouldn’t be working anyway.

You’d think I disappeared for a year on from the way everyone is carrying.

This is insane. This is unsustainable. This is exactly the sort of thing that got my father killed.

He’s been gone for three years, and I miss him every single day.

And I feel myself fall into the same trap that took him.

Rafal calls me at ten to give me an update on Acra. “The negotiations are almost done,” he says tersely. “I just need your okay on the final numbers.”

He's already sent me an email with the details, so this is at least a quick conversation.

“I'm okay with them,” I respond. He’s usually cheerful and garrulous, so this terseness is unlike him.

Unlike Jack Rutherford, I know Rafal well.

We went to business school together. We've eaten in each other's homes. There’s a certain stiffness in his voice that isn’t normal.

“The meetings went well?” I probe. “Or were they being difficult?”

“They were fine.”

Then what’s wrong? Before I can ask, he continues, “Your sister has been sitting in on the negotiations all week.”

“She has?” You have to be fucking kidding me.

My lips tighten. Damn it. I made it clear earlier this week that Rafal would be our point person for the Acra negotiations.

Mama and I talked about it; I thought she agreed with me.

I sent Rafal an email telling him to handle it.

I copied my mother on that email. Tomas too.

Vicky as well. Everyone knew Rafal was in charge.

And yet, Vicky couldn’t let him handle it.

I’m so angry I see red. I cannot afford to lose Rafal. My mother might think that only family can be trusted, but she’s wrong. I recruited Rafal Loyola personally. He’s a star, and if he feels undermined, he will quit.

Cardenas Group is nothing without the people that work for us. Something my mother refuses to see.

And Victoria? She should have known better. I am incandescent with rage.

I rub my chest again and say something conciliatory to Rafal. Praise him for a job well done. Then I hang up and take a deep breath. I need to get my temper under control before I call my sister.

She calls me before that can happen. “Your phone was off yesterday,” she snaps. “Ask me what I did yesterday, Damien. I sat in the most boring contract negotiation of my life. All day long.”

She sounds pissed off, but it's nothing compared to how furious I am. “Why were you there?” I demand. “I told Rafal to handle it. I sent everyone an email saying he was in charge. I copied you on that note. I copied everyone, for fuck’s sake. I wanted there to be no doubt that he could handle it. What possessed you to attend the negotiations?”

“Mama told me to go.”

Of course she did. I'm exasperated beyond belief. There is a dull pain in my chest. I massage it absently. I shouldn’t have eaten those burgers last night.

Red meat isn’t good for me. “I am the Chief Operating Officer,” I snap.

“The only person with authority to overrule my decisions is Tomas.” At least Tomas doesn’t interfere.

“Not Mama. Whether she likes it or not, Mama is retired.

She doesn't work in the firm any longer. You should have ignored her.”

My sister laughs incredulously. “Really? Ignore Mama. Have you met the woman?”

That’s fair—I can’t dispute that. “I put Rafal in charge,” I point out.

“By showing up to the Acra meetings, you undermined him. By extension, you undermined me.” I massage my chest again and get up to pour myself another cup of coffee.

“Did Tomas interfere? No, he didn’t. Because Tomas might not know anything about running this company, but he does know that the family can’t do it alone.

Not anymore. We’re just too big for that. ”

She’s silent a very long time, and then she sighs.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m not good at dealing with Mama.

She called me, practically in tears, and gave me a long guilt trip about how Papa sacrificed everything to build this company.

And yes, she understood that you asked Rafal to do it, but he’s only been with the company for three years and was I really sure we could trust him? You know how she can get.”

I do. My anger drains away. “I’m not good at dealing with her when she gets that way either,” I admit.

“Maybe if Cristiano were to do more?—”

“Bullshit. Cristiano is the only one with any work-life balance. We both need to do a better job pushing back.”

“Yeah. . .” Her voice softens. “She’s not handling retirement very well.”

“That’s the understatement of the year.” My parents had talked about retirement when my father was alive.

They had planned to take an around-the-world cruise.

My father’s unexpected death shocked my mother into retirement, but it’s not easy to reset old patterns.

My parents were workaholics. Now that she’s retired, Maria Cardenas doesn’t know what to do with her spare time.

And so she meddles in the company.

“You have children. Just drop Felipe and Johan off with her. She’s not doing enough grandmothering, clearly. Have her babysit your little monsters.”

“She’ll probably have them working in the mailroom.”

“They’re seven and nine, Victoria.”

“And we’re talking about our mother, Damien,” she retorts. “Okay, I’ll find Rafal and smooth things over, and I’ll do a better job holding the line.”

I hang up. I take another sip of coffee, but it’s bitter in my mouth. Something I ate obviously didn’t agree with me. I make myself get up and drink a glass of water. For safe measure, I swallow an aspirin.

Then, ignoring my laptop, I walk out to the deck and look at the lake.

It's a vivid shade of blue. The day promises to be beautiful and sunny, and the water calls to me. When I bought this house, I had illusions of jumping in for a swim every morning. There’s a canoe in the boathouse, and I can count on one hand how many times I’ve gone out on it.

I never seem to have any free time. My calendar is always packed with meetings. There's always an endless flood of work.

Resentment prickles through me, not for the first time. I've worked hard all my life. I've done my duty to the family. I went to business school, spent four years as a management consultant to broaden my experience, and then joined the firm and worked my way up the ladder. When do I get my reward?

Don't get me wrong, I'm extremely privileged and very aware of it. I am financially stable. More than stable, I am wealthy. But what's the point of all that money if I can never take a weekend off? If I never get any time to enjoy it?

Stop throwing yourself a pity party. If you want things to change, then do something about it.

I close my eyes and bask in the sun. I need a better work-life balance. We all do. It took Magnus leaving Cristiano for my brother to realize what was truly important.

I don’t want to learn that lesson the hard way.

Last night with Sophia has brought my discontent to the forefront.

I wanted to spend time with her today, but I had meetings.

I wanted to eat a slow, leisurely breakfast, but I knew people needed me.

I wanted to drag her back to bed and spend the afternoon making love to her, but my mother panics if she can’t reach me.

Something needs to change.

For a minute or two, I allow myself to fantasize about the future.

If we were in a relationship, I would move to Highfield.

I can work out of the Manhattan office two days a week and work remotely the rest of the time.

Sophia clearly loves her job, and Julian already has a home here.

I know he's talked about selling it, but if his relationship with his sister improves, he might decide to hang on to Kincaid Castle.

It makes sense for me to be the one to move.

I want the fantasy so much it hurts. I want a life that is more than just about work. I want a family and a home. I might even want children.

That thought makes me pause. Does Sophia want kids? She hasn't said anything about them, but to be fair, we didn't spend a lot of time in conversation yesterday. I make a mental note to ask her.

What about me? A threesome makes things complicated, but it doesn’t make things impossible.

I don’t have a burning need to pass down my genes.

Cristiano and Magnus are starting a family.

They’re using an egg donor fertilized with Magnus’ sperm.

Their surrogate is only three months pregnant, and already, Cristiano is besotted. A family is what you make of it.

If I want this relationship to work, I’m going to have to make a lot of changes in my life.

Starting with work. My mother is not going to take it well.

Knowing her, she won’t bat an eye at the threesome.

The Cardenas Group is different. My father gave his life to it.

My mother’s feelings aren’t rational when it comes to the firm.

I’m setting up for a confrontation with her, a confrontation I've avoided ever since my father died.

She was grief-stricken then, and I didn’t want to upset her. Things are different now. She’s happier. Tomas is good for her, calm and even-keeled.

I rub my chest again. Fucking indigestion. When I was twenty, I could have eaten a dozen burgers without any consequences. But I'm getting older, in my late thirties. If I don't take a stand, life will slip away from me.

And I refuse to let that happen.