Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 141951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 473(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 473(@300wpm)
They’d played that game before.
It never ended well.
Suddenly, the somber mood in the office and the not-so-cheerful greeting of the young woman at the reception desk downstairs made a lot more sense. Not one person in the bottling and brewery factory could muster a genuine smile when Ronald Dalton walked through the front doors.
Actually, he didn’t even use the front.
A parking spot beside Lucas’ that had been designated to Ronald’s CEO/CFO position remained unused, but five feet closer to the entrance than his son’s. Which was all the man wanted at the end of the day. It didn’t matter that he worked most of the year on the other side of the country. He simply enjoyed making Lucas know who had the most control, and that his seventy-five percent share of the company would always be greater than his son’s twenty-five.
In every way he possibly could.
Not that it mattered. Ronald didn’t use his parking spot. Instead, he parked in one at the side of the building near an exit door that he had personally hired a locksmith to install with a private lock that only he could use to access the stairwell. The lock was put in almost immediately after Lucas’ grandfather died. Ronald stopped pretending that he cared about the company or its employees at all after that—right up until the point he hauled ass to the west. The man couldn’t even be bothered to enter through the front like every other employee to have his face seen and say hello.
In some cases, that wasn’t a bad thing.
Except the man could at least pretend to respect the people beneath them in the company hierarchy. The employees worked hard. Harder than Ronald ever did, and they deserved recognition for that, at the very least. Not that his father could muster the energy to do so.
No one really expected it from the man anymore, either. No one expected anything from Ronald Dalton unless it would be something unpleasant.
“I called,” his father said.
Lucas blinked. “You mean, at four-thirty in the morning?”
Who the fuck was even up at that hour?
Not a sane man.
No, he had not bothered to dignify that early morning, missed call with a response because Lucas had been clear about his boundaries. Ronald didn’t care if he crossed them, of course, but Lucas no longer fed into his father’s nonsense on his end.
A choice he could make and control.
That’s what counted.
“I messaged over the weekend, too,” Ronald added, giving his eldest son a pointed stare.
Ah, right.
The meeting his father wanted.
“You didn’t think to give me a couple of days to get back to you? I do other things besides work, Dad.”
Not that he had any intention to share what those things were with his father. If anything, the man wouldn’t care. At worst, well … anything was possible. Ronald didn’t keep his displeasure with Lucas, and his acts against his son, strictly within business hours. His personal life was not off limits, if Ronald thought he could get away with it.
He didn’t have to search very hard for reasons to keep a safe and healthy distance between the two of them. Ronald made that shit easy.
“Are we letting the whole office hear your complaints about my phone calls?” Ronald asked, gesturing at the open door behind Lucas.
His cheek twitched with the effort it took for Lucas to keep his mouth clamped shut, so he didn’t ask Ronald whose fault that was between them.
“It wouldn’t even be the fifth time they heard it,” Lucas replied dully, his molars aching from the pressure he released from his jaws to speak.
And sadly, not untrue.
He did close the door because the office employees deserved the same dignity and respect that Lucas liked, including keeping family matters at home whenever possible, but Ronald liked to make that hard.
His father said nothing as Lucas milled around the office, dropping his commuter bag onto the corner bucket chair with the scalloped back in front of his desk. The closest he came to Ronald, who crossed his left ankle over his right knee and reclined in Lucas’ chair to watch his son handle his usual morning business in the office, was when he hung his jacket and scarf on the wooden coat rack next to the desk.
Right beside Ronald’s hanging fur-lined parka.
Did he plan to stay?
Lucas couldn’t help but notice the stack of Post-It notes left for him by Nola. Reminders for the day or different calls that had been requested of him for one reason or another.
Ronald noticed his stare, muttering, “You should really get her a better mode of communication than scribbles on rainbow paper. It’s a little juvenile, isn’t it?”
Oh, God save him.
Lucas tried the breathing technique his new therapist had suggested. Although he’d only managed one appointment with the man since starting, during that hour-long session, he’d pointed out the obvious areas in his life that needed immediate attention.