How could she approve Murphy’s crazy idea and sail to the Caribbean as if nothing happened?
My shoulders lock up as I shift forward on the richly decorated seventeenth-century chair Mother recently bought for my office. It’s friggin’ uncomfortable and clashes with the minimalist style I love, but Mother said it conveys the right vibes for visitors.
As if the Montgregors need to impress anyone. Our reputation—the one Father laid the foundations of—already took care of that.
“I understand.” Murphy nods, but his face says he really doesn’t. Or if he does, he certainly doesn’t agree. Which becomes utterly clear as he continues. “The fact that you consider these aspects ‘insignificant’ is exactly the reason Mother decided to involve me in this whole process.”
I put my palm on the cool surface of my desk, and my skin immediately leaves a wet smudge.
Okay, Nathan breathe.
If I just keep calm, maybe I can set the universe back on track. A reality where the goal I’ve been working toward these past eight years isn’t shattered through my brother’s clueless intervention.
I inhale slowly. “Okay. So Mother put my well-deserved promotion on hold. Fine. This I can accept. The rest? No way. Murphy, I know you mean well, brother. At least I hope you do…but you’re not qualified to judge whether or not I should become CEO. You don’t even work for the company! It doesn’t make sense.”
Murphy purses his lips, implying, Why not, without actually saying it. “Mother is unsure whether or not you’ve got what it takes. If she should choose Larry over you. But she couldn’t come up with a suitable test for you. That’s where I come in. Bringing out people’s hidden strengths or weaknesses is my specialty, remember?”
I know Mother has always had a soft spot for Murphy and his excitingly creative geniality—her words, not mine. But to let him decide whether or not I’m fit to take over the very company I’m single-handedly propelling toward never-known success?
Seriously?
“Why would Mother even second-guess my skills? I might be younger than Larry, but my acquisition ratio beats his anytime. The numbers I bring in each month speak for themselves, don’t they?”
My voice has a hint of resentment at first, but as I go on, I start to feel more confident. Indeed, AMEA has never closed a year as successful as this last one, and it’s all because of the deals I’ve managed to secure. Mother is aware of this. Perhaps she’s just ensuring that Murphy doesn’t feel left out when I’m promoted? Even if, it was Murphy’s choice to study psychology. He could very well have put his brain behind our true legacy instead of curing dysfunctional personalities.
Murphy scratches his chin, a gesture he only does when he’s trying to buy time. I might not be a therapist, but I know my brother. He wants to tell me something he knows I won’t like.
A vague sense of nausea washes over me.
How does Murphy’s Law go? Anything that can go wrong will go wrong…?
My gut suddenly tells me to buckle up, because the next thing out of my brother’s mouth is going to hammer these words into my mind with force. And he is a namesake to this very law. It must be life’s wicked sense of humor.
Murphy clears his throat. “Yeah, your numbers are excellent. Nobody can argue with that. But Mother and I feel that you have a few crucial blind spots…”
“What?” I jerk back, slamming my hands on the desk, shaking the pencil holder out of its place. “I have no effin’ blind spots. I’m driven, focused, and future-oriented. I’m the better choice. The best one, really. I have all the skills needed to lead our company.”
Murphy gapes at me then gives out a bemused snort. “Oh, gosh, Nate. I sometimes forget how funny you are.”
The truth is, I’m not funny. At least nobody has called me that in my thirty-three years of life.
Brilliant, yes.
Cutthroat, once or twice.
Cold? Pretty frequently.
But my sense of humor has never been praised much. Maybe I prefer to take life seriously, but it’s the only way to be successful. “I didn’t mean it as a joke,” I say dryly.
Murphy’s wipes his eye with his palm and his expression becomes serious. “I know. That’s what so droll about it.”
I narrow my eyes. “What do you mean?”
Murphy leans forward. “I mean, this cocky ignorance about what you lack is the reason Mother agreed to have me assess your worthiness. What’s more, she’s given me free rein about selecting the task that will decide your promotion.”
“She gave you free rein?” My jaw goes slack.
“Indeed. Mother knows that, even if I’ve chosen an alternate career path, I’m just as worried about having the right person lead our company as she is.” Murphy nods with emphasis, and not even a single strand of his bangs moves.
Despite the absurdity of the situation, I can’t stop myself from wondering exactly how much gel he must’ve combed into his hair to achieve this effect.
If only you were as concerned with AMEA’s success as you are with your hairstyle, you would have stayed to carry on Father’s legacy…
I swallow back the comment before it reaches my lips, realizing that if Mother is allowing my brother to test me as he pleases, I’m not likely to change her mind.
I blink at the pile of documents that I pushed to the corner of my desk when Murphy entered my office. My skin prickles with irritation. Some of these files have been on hold for over a week now, awaiting my approval. I don’t have time to perform random exercises just to please Murphy.
But I also know that once Mother decides on something, she never backs off. Call it pride or simple stubbornness, but she sticks to her word, even if
