God, I hated telling him this.
I hated rehashing it.
“I remember.” Julian didn’t sound convincing. “It’s okay to hate him as much as I love him, right?”
“Honestly, I don’t know.” The doorbell rang again. “I need to get that, okay?”
“Yeah.” He didn’t look even remotely okay, but we needed to get ready and we needed to do our jobs. Funny how we used to have pep talks back in the day, mainly him telling me that everything was going to be fine. And today of all days, when his future was finally within his grasp, I was the one having to do the convincing.
Strange, strange world.
Chapter Nineteen
ISOBEL
I smiled tightly at all the right people as we made our way past the paparazzi. Julian clung to me like he’d forgotten how insane these events got. His eyes were a bit wide, and he kept licking his lips like he did when he was nervous. It was probably the fact that he looked like he’d been in an accident too; even makeup couldn’t cover the bruising on his face or the way he limped next to me.
The press was having a field day, yelling questions and accusations about someone trying to hurt him before the buyout. It was all speculation, and it wouldn’t be the first threat that the Tennysons received over money. In fact, every new assistant was vetted by a private security team, especially for the corporate officers closest to the family.
Money made people crazy.
It made us all a bit crazy, didn’t it?
And stupid.
And weak.
My stomach dropped to my knees as Julian smiled at my side, his confidence growing with each step as we finally made our way inside Old New York Museum. Every year the company held the Tennyson Charity Gala, and every year they turned celebrities away from the invitation-only event.
I used to walk into places like this with stars in my eyes.
Now I just felt tired.
“Lots of people,” Julian finally muttered so only I could hear as he grabbed two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter. “I wonder if Father understands that blunt-force head trauma doesn’t exactly make you want to party the night away. I’m more likely to pass out in one of the water fountains than I am to have a conversation about stocks and shares.”
I smiled at that and clinked my glass with his. “You used to thrive in this environment, like a honeybee going from group to group, the life of the party with all the perfect little party tricks.”
“Are you saying I’m boring now?” He grinned down at me. I found myself getting lost in his easy smile and the way it made me feel warm all the way down to my toes.
“Pretty much.” I sipped my wine.
He burst out laughing, earning the attention of a few people standing nearby. They gasped like he was the villain in a horror story, which only made the situation more unbelievable. Julian was always the hero, always the one people wanted to talk to, women wanted to marry, men wanted to be.
“Ah, Julian.” Edward made his way toward us with a few board members I recognized.
They all looked like pale vampires, at least that’s how I saw them. Only they were completely harmless, hardly talked, and looked at Edward like he created the earth in six days. I mentally rolled my eyes while smiling prettily at each and every one.
“Son, we were just discussing the buyout of IFC.”
“Of course you were,” Julian said in a bored tone that I’d never really heard him use with his father or in front of board members. “I thought this was a celebration. It’s in the bag. I hope none of you have any concerns?”
Edward’s eyes flickered with something I’d never seen before. Pride? Anger? I couldn’t tell, but it made me want to run in the opposite direction or just throw my champagne at him to get him to stop looking at Julian like that, and at me, for that matter.
“Yes, well . . .” Edward lifted his glass to his lips and sipped, then winked at Julian. “My son”—he said son in a way that made my skin crawl—“is as always correct. We should be celebrating, not discussing business. After all, he’s still suffering from his injuries, but you’re feeling like your old self, aren’t you, Julian? I would hate to hear otherwise.”
Julian looked ready to commit murder.
The board members started whispering among one another.
This was bad.
Was he calling him out?
“The day of my accident, stocks fell thirty percent. The moment news caught wind that I was, in fact, going to survive what should have been catastrophic injuries, they doubled and then split, making every single one of you millions richer. No offense, Dad . . .” He spat the word. Who was this man? “But I highly doubt we’d have the same results if you’d come back from the dead, do you?”