How to Resist Prince Charming(25)

“You’re not your father.”

Back going straight, Braxton waited a moment to keep from exploding. As calmly as he could, he gritted out, “I realize that.”

Tom sent him a meaningful scowl. “Then what’s to decide? Don’t risk it, and you won’t lose the company. We’re doing fine as it is.”

But Braxton didn’t want to do fine. He wanted to do amazing.

Shaking his head, he frowned at Tom. “Even you can’t deny what an achievement it’d be if we succeeded in getting an international company like Renault on our account and kept them there. Do you know what kind of profits we could spike to if we got a successful overseas trade set up? Hell, it would triple our entire customer base.”

“Yeah,” Tom admitted, clenching his teeth as he pointed an accusing finger at Braxton. “But it’s still dangerous. If you try this, put all kinds of money into it, and then it falls through, you’ll send us into a decline and maybe put us out of business.”

Braxton nodded. He was well aware of that fact. But he murmured, “Truth be told, I have every confidence this crew can carry a global seller. Don’t you?”

Tom just stared at him. “You better do all your research before you make this decision.”

“I am,” Braxton assured him.

Turning away as if satisfied with that answer, Tom paused before whirling back to squint at Braxton, dissecting him with his gaze. “Where’s your usual cheeky comeback?”

Braxton gave Tom a small smile. “Fresh out.”

Tom studied him a moment longer, looking wary. “What were you talking about earlier, with all that crap about how you knew what I had to be thinking and you going too far?”

Shaking his head, Braxton shrugged. But from the expression on Tom’s face, he could tell the older man wasn’t going to give it up until he revealed something.

“I...ah, I went ahead and had Beth order the yellow paper for the warrantee slips, even though I knew you wanted to stick with white. I…I was just going to get a sample sheet printed and run it past the group first, but she ordered an entire batch.”

He bit his lip and hoped to God Tom bought that excuse. It was true, just not the truth he’d been referring to.

Brow furrowing, Tom shrugged. “So? Why would you be so bothered with what I thought about it? They’re warrantee slips for crying out loud. Who cares what color they are?”

Braxton’s mouth fell open. “Who cares?” he exploded. “You’re the one who made such a big stink about it in the first place. Remember?” He ground his teeth together. “You spent twenty minutes in the last meeting arguing your case. Jesus Christ!”

He propped his elbows on the tabletop and cupped his head in both hands. “I’m getting real tired of having an employee who contradicts me at every turn, especially when I come to find out he never even gave a shit what color the f*cking paper was. He just wanted to be an ass.”

Oh, God, he was starting to lose it.

“I’m fed up with this, Tom. I would like to have a peaceful work environment one of these days. I would like for us to at least learn to compromise. I’m sick of constantly butting heads with you. At this point, all I really want is to do something you actually approve of without you nitpicking it to death, because your bitching isn’t getting anyone anywhere.”

Braxton closed his eyes. More than anything in the world, he’d love to have Thomas Davenport’s approval. And his blessing too.

Letting out a sigh, Braxton opened his eyes and found Tom giving him an odd look. Instead of replying, the older man turned and walked from the room.

Braxton watched him go. An awful premonition that things were only going to get worse from this point on constricted his chest, making it hard to breathe.

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself.

Though misery clogged his arteries, a reluctant smile twisted his lips as he realized the irony of the moment. He’d been a good boy and left Lenna’s apartment without staying the entire night in difference to Tom’s feelings. And here, Tom still hated him.

He fisted his hands and shook his head, laughing bitterly until his throat burned.

He wanted to kick the door on his way out of the meeting room just to burn off a little pent up frustration, but he remained cool. Professional. He’d probably lost it enough for the day.

Unfortunately, that did nothing to help the frothing dissatisfaction bubbling inside him. When he entered his office a minute later, he found his nineteen-year-old brother sitting behind his desk with his feet kicked up by Braxton’s keyboard,

Braxton almost yanked Tyler out of the chair to bear hug him. He was that relieved to see a friendly face.

“You know I never would’ve dared to sit in this chair when Dad was president. But this thing is damn comfortable, bro. Maybe I should’ve fought you for this position when the old man stepped down.”

Tossing his files from the meeting onto his desk beside Ty’s shoes, Braxton barked out a harsh laugh. “You can have it.”

“Uh oh.” Tyler leisurely slid his feet to the floor. “That sounds bad. Are the slaves acting up already?”

“No. No. They’re a ray of f*cking sunshine.” Grasping his brother’s arm, he yanked Ty from behind his desk and started back for the door. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. I need a drink.”