Baby For The Mountain Man - Page 44

“Excuse me?” my father asked.

“It’ll take you millions more to route the gas line around the mountains, but it’ll be safer for the town and the people working. You can either spend the money making the pipeline safer and more stable, or you can spend it repairing cracks in the pipeline and paying out of the company’s pocket in medical expenses when claims are filed,” I said.

“You have no business coming in here after everything you have put this family through-- after everything you have put your own mother through-- and tell me what to do with my business,” my father said.

“You said it before. You created all of this for us, right? So why can’t we have a say in what happens with the company?” I asked.

“Because I’m still running it. And as far as I’m concerned, all of my ungrateful children don’t deserve any of it,” my father said.

“She’s right,” our lawyer said. “You do run all of those risks.”

“Shut up, Michael. You can’t even do your own damn job right,” my father said.

“You can’t force the federal government to intervene on this topic,” Michael said. “You can’t use the money you donated to the President’s campaign as a way to strong-arm him into this. They could shut you down for something like that.”

“I’m trying to better this town, and that fucking Benson family is standing in the way of that! My media tactics didn’t work, the threatening letters haven’t worked. Hell, they’re shooting at the scouts I send into the woods,” my father said.

“Wait. Media tactics?” I asked.

That was why the name Travis Benson sounded so familiar. My father was the one who waged war against them in the media. All of those propaganda-like commercials he ran against their company. Why the hell could I not recall that company's name?

“Shut up and go stand with your mother,” my father said.

“No,” I said. “Our company is the one that made those awful commercials against the Benson family?” I asked.

“How do you know that name? And why the hell do you think this is your company, you ungrate, inconsiderate child?” my father asked.

“I can’t remember the name of the company, but I do remember their names. You slaughtered that man in the media. You painted him to be an absent father. A feeble-minded man who didn’t know how to run his own company. Why would you do that?” I asked.

“You want to be an adult, yet you can’t comprehend why adults do specific things? Sounds like your mother more and more everyday,” my father said.

“You can’t run that gas line through the mountains. It will destroy them. You can have your pipeline and the mountains can stay intact. There is a solution here that gives everyone what they want,” I said.

“That isn’t how businesses are run, sweetheart. That isn’t how empires are made,” my father said.

“Don’t call me ‘sweetheart’. I hate it. And secondly, that isn’t how empires are made either. Empires didn’t conquer. They grew with the help and input of their people. But rulers had to earn their trust. Rulers had to work with them. Now, if empires wanted to branch out beyond their formulated borders, then the conquering happened. But you haven’t done that. You haven’t breached the borders of Washington State yet,” I said.

My father's eyes were burning into me as the lawyer stood from the couch. He excused himself from the room and walked by me, offering his hand for me to slap. I gave him a small high-five as I heard a slow clap begin behind me, pride welling in my chest.

I turned around and saw my brothers clapping. Supporting me with grins on their faces as I stood toe-to-toe with my father on his business practices.

“When in the world did you start taking an interest in business?”

I whipped my gaze over to my mother and took in her proud stare. There was a grin on her cheeks and a surprise in her eyes. For the first time in years, I saw a sparkle in her features. I saw her skin glowing with intrigue and happiness as she stood from her chair. My mother was proud of me. Impressed with me. Not angry, like my father. Not shocked, like our lawyer. But proud.

Like a mother should be.

“Books. I snuck them in before, but I’m not doing that anymore. I’m not hiding my knowledge or my thirst for it. Dad, you’re going about this all wrong. If you want to build an empire of a company, then you have to start by making compromises with those you run into. If you continuously burn bridges, you’ll be stuck on an island you’ve conquered by yourself,” I said.

I couldn't identify the look in my father's eyes, but I knew it wasn't good. He was gripping his fists as he started pacing the floor. His face was redder than I had ever seen it and sweat was starting to gather on his brow. He was physically biting down on his tongue, his temple throbbing with the movement as my legs began to grow weak. I was paralyzed with fear. I have never seen this kind of anger in my father's stance before, and I knew that whatever was coming was going to be bad.

“Get out of my sight,” my father said.

“What?” I asked.

“I gave you the easiest life imaginable. While other fathers are forcing college onto their children, I groomed you for a life of ease. A life of bearing children, rushing them off to nannies, and sitting in a room entertaining guests. I made sure every decision was made for you so you wouldn’t have to struggle making them yourself, and this is the thanks I get!? My daughter assuming she knows how to run my company better from some old library books!? You are a selfish, ungrateful piece of work, Ava Lucas. And I want you out of my sight.”

“Is that what you thought you gave me? By taking my ability to decide the kind of life I wanted, you thought you were helping me?” I asked.

Tags: Nicole Elliot Romance
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