The Last Eligible Billionaire(89)

He doesn’t react to that either, but instead waves his hand casually as though he’s inviting me to take a seat and have a cigar. “Of course not. But since Thomas passed…you’ve been different. Some good. Some not so good. I don’t know what makes you happy, and your mother and I have been negligent by failing to ask.”

Begonia.

Begonia made me happy.

Until she betrayed me.

One good thing to come of this—I can be as unpleasant as I want, reject any potential date as rudely as I wish, and it can’t possibly be as bad as the front page of every last gossip magazine and website in the known universe today.

“It’s been a difficult time,” I bite off. “I’ll be fine.”

He nods to my desk, where the offensive newspaper glares at both of us. “That’s quite the balance sheet collection.”

“I like puzzles.”

“Especially when you’re unhappy.”

“I’m not—” I cut myself off with a curse.

While the show my family puts on for the world is fake, and they annoy the ever-loving shit out of me on occasion, my parents’ concern for Jonas and me has always been real. I’ve never doubted that.

They ask for too much—not because they want to, but because of the world we live in—but they worry in equal amounts.

It’s why my mother came to Maine—because she worries. It’s why the whole family stayed longer than they should’ve at the house in Albany.

I’m the one they worry about. Even at almost forty years old. And for as much as I don’t like people, I know I need them, and I know I can count on my family.

I sink back into my seat and meet my father’s gaze. “I don’t know that I’m built to be Razzle Dazzle’s CFO.”

“Because…?”

Fuck it. What more do I have to hide? “Interviews. Shareholder meetings. Managing a team. People. And I hate every goddamn movie this family has ever produced.”

He purses his lips thoughtfully. “They’re dreadfully repetitive, aren’t they?”

And now I’m gawking. “You don’t like them either?”

“Oh, no, I enjoy them, but we haven’t taken a risk since we opened Razzle Dazzle Village when you were a baby. And you’re getting old.”

Jesus.

Who is this man, and what has he done with my father?

“What would make you happy, Hayes?”

Begonia.

A private island with no one but Begonia.

Food.

Her damn dog.

My father sighs. “Son, life’s too short to spend it doing nothing but making other people happy. And god knows we parents get it wrong on occasion when it comes to guessing what that might be. If you’re under the impression we expect you to pay us back for anything we’ve ever given you in life, let me assure you, all we want is for you to do what makes you happy. Not what makes us happy. And it’s time I put my money where my mouth is, so consider that this offer is as much for me as it is for you. If you’re not happy, if you want out…now’s the time to take a leap.”

He looks like my father. He truly does. “Are you ill?”

“No, merely disgusted with myself for taking the easy path for far too long.”

I lift my brows and wait.

“Our first film featuring a queer couple is nearly finished.” He points to my desk again. “We’ve done the same thing for so long that we’ve convinced ourselves the audience wouldn’t follow us if we added additional paths, and it’s time we move away from the fear and embrace the possibilities of truly living up to what our reputation should be. Not a surface-level happy family, but a family of love and support and acceptance. The account sheets will be corrected when we announce it next week. Thomas was aware and had signed off on the various accounting tricks we needed to use for developing the project in complete secret. The rest of the board is ready to handle the media requests we would’ve had him do, as we’ve wanted to give you time to settle in before fully feeding you to the sharks. But Hayes, if this isn’t where your heart is—and I don’t mean the company’s growth and expansion into new markets that we should’ve ventured into before this, but I mean you, in this chair—no one will think any less of you. I’d hoped this job would be an opportunity, but I fear I’ve actually put you into an obligation instead.”

Begonia would be thrilled at this news.

I don’t want that to be my first thought, but I can’t stop it any more than I could stop her from smiling at the sun rising over the sea, or at a small private violin concert, or at her ridiculous dog pretending he could fish for crabs and take them home and cook them himself.

“Think it over,” my father says. “If you’re not happy, Hayes…let us help you find what would help you get there. And in the meantime, don’t let anyone else walk through your door with tabloids in hand.”

“You just walked through my door with that infernal tabloid in your hand.”

“I’m your father. It comes with privileges.” He smiles as he unfolds himself and rises. “But the biggest is worry. The biggest is always the worry.”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

“As can be.”