Page 43 of Risk
Pulling my cell out, I swipe up and open the app to see Daisy Ren’s face. She has a variety of gorgeous photos on the front page of her site. Her sweet smile is the same, there’s a subtle difference in the hollows of her pink cheeks. Her eyes are bright blue in most of these pics too, when I know their real color is cognac. Her lips are in a perpetual pout, which forces blood to flow straight to my dick.
My drive to the airport is both too fast and too slow. Smoggy air infiltrates my senses as I stuff my cell in my pocket. The riotous sound of heavy traffic, airplanes taking off, and people rushing around drowns the heavy thud of my heart.
Grabbing my carryon, I head inside when my cell vibrates. Foolishness allows me to hope that it’s Leah already.
Disappointment makes me numb when I see it’s not.
“If this is about giving Carmichael a chair on my board again, hang the fuck up, Jackson.”
“It’s about Nicole.”
Fuck my life. “What about her?”
“Are you sticking with your decision?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“I just want to make sure I have damage control ready.”
“There was no damage done.”
“Tell that to Mom. She’s still furious, you know.”
“I don’t care.” Our mother is too controlling for her own good. Sometimes I wonder if she hadn’t put me on such a tight leash growing up, I might not have rebelled so hard. “Nicole is a nonissue.”
“She’s a huge issue, Mase. Her family runs the charity Mom’s gala is for. And if you’re coming to it too, it’ll be a problem before hors d’oeuvres are served.”
This is the opposite attitude Grace gave me about the whole thing. “Then I won’t come.” I didn’t want to go anyway, so this works out for everyone.
“Mom will be pissed if you don’t show.”
“Jackson, I’m a grown ass man.” Slipping past a cluster of kids with a harried set of parents, I step onto the escalator. “I don’t give a fuck who I disappoint.”
“You do this shit on purpose.”
No, I don’t. But I refuse to let anyone dictate my life.
“God, you’re such a selfish prick, Mason. Everything you do affects the family.” My heart clenches because he sounds like our mother and Jackson’s better than that, damnit. “This rebellious bullshit needs to end. Grow up.”
“This rebellious bullshit is what you and your dog, Carmichael, were foaming at the mouth to be part of the other night. What was it he said? Oh yeah, he’d fuck over half of New York if he got in BanditFX. The fucker bragged about how he would throw his mutuals under the bus and burn bridges to secure his seat, giving me the monopoly. And you sat next to him with a self-righteous smirk on your face the whole time.”
“So?”
“My company was built from the ground up not to be a slap in our family’s face, but to be my own goddamn path to greatness. That’s me being a man, not mommy’s baby boy. You want great things for yourself, bro? Fucking earn it like I did and stop riding coattails.”
“Earn it? You built BanditFX with your fucking trust fund, you cunt. You’re no better than me, even though you keep acting like you are.”
I didn’t use my trust fund to finance my company. My parents wouldn’t let me take out that much cash, no matter how many times I pleaded and showed them my proposals. Instead, I worked my ass off in college, made quick investments in stocks, traded, and diversified and took major risks until I had enough capital to start up my company by my damn self. My stellar networking skills and ethics got me the rest of the way. I’ve made millions without my family’s support—financial or otherwise.
As the black sheep in our family, I’m the disgrace while Jackson’s their favorite son who does the Finch name proud. Grace has even less freedom than me and my brother do when it comes to her life choices. Still, Jackson keeps making big mistakes and if I can help him, I will, regardless of if he deserves it or not.
I love him. I just don’t like him very much. “Watch yourself. Carmichael is not your friend. He’s going to drag you down with him and throw you under the bus if it’ll save his own ass or put him in the lead.”
“And Carmichael’s strategies have to do with Nicole coming to the gala…how?”
“That’s his cousin!”
“And she was your—”