Page 28 of Serenity

My grandfather, however? The patriarch of our family wielded the gift of gab. At the helm of the oblong table, he stood going off on unrelated tangents about shit that didn’t concern us. My gaze directed to the list of shit that did.

Mergers and acquisitions.

Beyond my futile study of our meeting’s agenda, my grandfather ranted and raved.

Duke Stepford, I.

The man was old, with more years behind him than in front. Despite everyone’s best interest in moving forward with the meeting, I’d regrettably let him cook. His ass had overcooked now. Two hours too long.

“And on Mondays, a taco bar would raise employee—

“Duke,” I cut in and stood, stalking toward the front of the table.

There was Duke, then was Junior, and regrettably me, D3. My grandfather had christened me the moniker. Detest was far too light of a word to describe my feelings toward the nickname, but it worked. Instead of us all answering by the same name when we were in the same room, there were the three differentiators.

My hand grasped his shoulder from behind once I’d made it to the front of the room. “I think it’s wonderful that you’re passionate about the well-being of our employee’s bellies, but we’re in the middle of a huge acquisition.”

“I know. I know, D3, but we can’t forget about company culture…”

Beyond a discussable issue, our company culture was flawless. Colonial employees worked diligently but played even harder.

Chuckling, I escorted my grandfather to the door where Sheila, my executive assistant, was present to lead him down the elevator and out of the building.

Once the digression was handled, we got down to business, addressing highlighted discrepancies with our latest subsidiaries. The list was extensive and a most ambitious move on my part. One particular company I sought to save from public ruin. Though risky for business, it was also beneficial. If the acquisition went through without any issues —public or otherwise— it would offset some of our tax liability and possibly yield a profit.

A vote was taken with a seven-to-one win. My grandfather, adamant to voice his discontent, video-phoned in to confirm he was against the buy. Whatever. A win was a win. The meeting adjourned briefly after, with me stifling a grin and the desire to beat my chest.

Years ago, I worked tirelessly, placing needless strain on my mind and physical body. Those were prior years when I sought to prove a thing to my father. At the present age, that shit didn’t sit well. Working hard. Wearing my mind and body down. Been there. Done that. I’d paid my dues. My workday had come to a close. The need to overtax myself was nonexistent.

Before departing from the realm of Colonial, I stalked toward Sheila’s office. Busy drafting up memos and organizing emails, she didn’t notice me.

“Sheila She,” I knocked on the open door of her office, announcing my presence.

“Yes,” she crooned, not tearing her gaze from the computer’s screen. Everyone under my employ was a workaholic to varying degrees. It ensured the continued success of our business. Smoothly and fluidly, our ship sailed. Sheila was no different.

“Do a workup on somebody for me. Serenity Miller.”

The impromptu lunch with Serenity left me covetous and curious about the young, ambitious beauty related to Supreme. Undoubtedly, she checked out from what I’d seen in person, but as a man of my caliber, I still needed to enact due diligence to ensure my safety. A background investigation would be prudent prior to pursuing her in any shape, form, or fashion.

Sheila froze. Her eyes flitted in my direction, issuing several blinks.

“What kind of workup? A light inquiry or a deep probe?”

“Deep as it goes, Sheila She.”

Ignoring her astonishment, my limbs rotated toward the direction I’d come.

“And Sheila?” I paused.

“Y–yes Mr. Stepford?”

“Don’t use Daughtry. Exercise discretion.”

Daughtry was under the Miller’s employ. His loyalty rested with the family. Utilizing his services would cause red flags to be raised in response to any inquiry. Stealth was required for the information I sought.

“As you wish, Mr. Stepford.”

The Penthouse domiciled on the twentieth floor of Gray Hotel was beyond satisfactory. From the private elevator entrance to the panoramic windows, the interior décor was impeccable. Massive windows opened to a perpetual pulse of the city.