Page 23 of I Think Olive You
Haven’t you?
I answer, trying to keep the sigh from my voice. “What do you need?”
“Hello, Matt… how are you?” he says, the way one would remind a child of their manners, but I don’t give a fuck.
My mind’s already swirling with everything that’s happened within the last few days. Another complication is the last thing I need.
“We both know you’re not calling to exchange pleasantries. So yes, I’m in Italy. I’m at the grove.”
“You’re more resourceful than I expected. Good job. I’m surprised they welcomed you with open arms.” Alan scoffs, as if my charm is in doubt.
I could have made it work even without the mix-up. I might be an asshole but I’m an asshole with a pretty face.
“Apparently, they were expecting an American volunteer for the summer. I arrived before him and assumed the role. They’re going to show me the ins and outs of the whole operation.”
And somehow, I’m going to have to figure out what the hell to do about the real volunteer, if they ever show up. My ruse could be over in a second.
I try to ignore Alan’s malicious chuckle and how slimy it makes me feel inside.
“I underestimated you. Looks like you have some Palmer in you, after all.”
Like father, like son. Both willing to screw people over for their own benefit.
“Alan, I’m not so sure about this. Even though the owner died, his family is still here running the place. Plus, they are capable and care about their employees from what I can tell.”
“Please don’t tell me you’re going soft on me. How long are they expecting you to volunteer for?”
“Until October-ish when we do the harvest.”
Feeding information to the enemy… Wonderful.
It’s easier to paint Alan as the enemy, rather than to face knowing I’m the one who poses the biggest risk to Giuliana and Abundantia.
“Plenty of time to catch them slipping,” he says.
“This feels underhanded and dirty. I don’t like it.”
“You don’t have to like it. Just do it. Now is not the time to get sensitive. There’s more at stake than you know,” Alan says, as if there’s something I’m missing.
“What else is at stake?” I pace between the rows of trees, trying to avoid running into any of the other workers. But I’m far enough from the main house that I should be safe. Plus, whoever I run into might not speak English very well.
“Your father hoped you’d rise to the occasion yourself…”
I can almost picture Alan, spinning his chair away from his desk to stare out of the floor-to-ceiling windows. The city would be sprawling around him—glass and steel, sharp and unforgiving. Alan would have a little constipated smile on his cheeks, the one where he knows he has his audience’s attention but the Botox won’t let him celebrate with his whole face.
“What does that mean?” I grit out.
What did this fucker do now?
“You’re aware of the expectation that you take over as CEO of Palmer Enterprises within twelve months of your father’s death?—”
“Or I lose my stake in the company. I know.”
“There’s more. I didn’t only send you out there to prove you have what it takes to assume the role. Or to cover up your indiscretions. The truth of the matter is, your father wanted to make sure you were successful and not resting on your laurels.”
“Tell me, Alan, for fuck’s sake.” My strides eat up the earth and I can almost feel the walls of an invisible office closing me in.
“If you don’t prove yourself worthy as his heir—either by taking over his business or another one—your entire inheritance is forfeit.”