Etching Our Way (Broken Tracks 1)

I smile and let out a tired sigh. “As much as I love being a part of the process, I can’t wait until it’s all up and running.”

“I bet you can’t, I remember you talking about owning your own studio from the moment we met. In fact, I think your exact words when we were introduced were, ‘Don’t forget that name, you’ll see it on an art studio one day and you’ll be glad you know me.’”

I bark out a laugh at the memory. “So I did.”

He looks over at the clock on his wall. “Shoot, sorry to rush you out, Harm, but I have an early dinner I need to be getting ready for.” He opens the door for me. “As soon as I hear anything back, I’ll call you.”

“Thank you,” I reply sincerely, smiling warmly at my old friend.

He looks into my eyes, clearly wanting to say something, like every time we’ve been together, but must choose not to as he shakes his head. “Anytime, ma chérie.”

I laugh and shake my head as he bows to me; even after ten years he’s still the class clown.

Bon Jovi—It’s My Life

Justin Timberlake—Can’t stop the feeling

Zara Larsson—Lush Life (Acoustic Version)

I push back from my desk and grab my suit jacket, pushing my arms through the soft silk material that lines it before doing one of the buttons up.

My head starts to pound, almost as if it’s trying to get me out of the lunch that I have scheduled with my father—a lunch I don’t want to attend but I feel like I have no choice. It’ll be the first time that I’ve seen his face or spoken to him since he was in the courtroom when he was sentenced.

I have a feeling he’ll want to talk about the company, but he has no right to tell me what to do; he lost that right when he embezzled millions of dollars—and I’m not talking a few million, I’m talking in the hundreds of millions. When the FBI caught him, he swore that it wasn’t him, but ultimatel

y, they found the evidence that convicted him. I know that he should have gone to prison for longer than he did, but he still had connections—connections that he used to get himself a shorter sentence.

It wasn’t until after the company was signed over to me that I realized the money he embezzled was a lot more than anyone knew.

Not only did he put a black mark on his own name, but he made it almost impossible for me to gain the trust of the board. I worked tirelessly at first to show them that I wasn’t my father and to gain their trust, but now I don’t care what they think. This is my company and I’ll do what I damn well please with it. They’re a formality and they know it, just as much as I do.

People steer clear of me as I make my way to the elevator, my cell pinging several times on the way. I ignore it, keeping my gaze pointed ahead of me and my shoulders back until I’m inside, pulling it out and answering emails and marking the ones I need to reply to when I’m back in the office.

The BETA store went down well with the board if the grins on their faces were anything to go by—even if they hated the idea, it wouldn’t have mattered because I would have given it the go ahead anyway. Talk of buying retail space was high on the agenda and I already have my team on it, looking for the best space in the city. There’s no way that we’ll be having any little kind of space, it needs to be front and center with my name above the door.

The board wants to roll it out quickly, having ten stores by the end of the year, but I’m more cautious. I know how retail can be nowadays and that the majority of sales come from online, but the board is mostly made up of a different generation that doesn’t understand that. Of course, the decision is ultimately up to me whether I go ahead with the stores and if I do, how many there will be, but I like to let them think that they have a say.

I look up and pocket my cell as the elevator doors open and I walk through the vast lobby that is full of people milling about and talking. Like always, the chatter dies down when they see me and I smirk, loving that them seeing me in a room makes them act that way. I can be ruthless when it comes to my business.

I make a point of gazing around the room before walking out of the front glass doors, getting into the car that Edward waits in outside of the building.

He tries to make small talk as we drive through the city to Zanders but my mind isn’t on what he’s talking about; it’s on the lunch that I’m about to have.

I haven’t see my father for nine years and the last time I spoke to him was when he called me as soon as he was released from prison a week ago. He didn’t once ask how we all were or how I was, instead he demanded I meet with him today.

Hearing his voice again for the first time in so long rendered me speechless, so much so that I never answered him before he ended the call.

Even as a grown man, I still feel like my father holds something over me. It’s like he thinks because he signed the company over to me that he has a right to boss me around. But he doesn’t; it may have been his name that started it, but it’s my name that will make it into the company that it always should have been.

“Thanks,” I tell Edward as I get out of the car when he pulls up outside of Zanders.

“What time do you want me back?” he asks as I button my jacket back up, pulling on the cuffs of my sleeves.

“I’ll call you,” I say, closing the door and turning to face the restaurant.

The floor-to-ceiling windows sparkle as the sunlight hits them and the white frames glisten. The two potted plants that sit either side of the main door greet me and my fingers run over the top of them as I push through the doors.

“Mr. Carter,” the maître d' greets me. “Your guest is already seated.”