CHAPTER THREE

KNOX

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I glance at my watch, irritated.

“Where is she?”

“Late,” Alexandra says, looking as unimpressed as I am. Although I can guarantee she’s in a better mood.

Late yesterday afternoon, my father dropped a bomb on me. One I hadn’t seen coming and was still haven’t trouble wrapping my head around.

“Knox. Can I see you in my office?” Ward had asked from my office doorway. By the time I looked up from my email, he had disappeared, but I heard him call out, “Today.”

Where’s the damn fire?

I chugged back the rest of my last coffee for the day and noted that it was after three pm. Then, pulling on my jacket, I made my way down to my father’s office.

Mindy, my PA, shot me a questioning look on the way and I lifted my shoulder. It wasn’t like him to be so brisk. Something must have happened, so I was concerned.

Was it a design copyright rejection?

Did we lose a supplier?

HR issue?

When I stepped into his office, I found Ward standing behind his desk with his hands on his hips. He was wearing a navy Armani suit with a white shirt. The top buttons were undone. It would look casual if he didn’t have the handkerchief in the top pocket. I recognized the paisley silk from this year’s Verity Co.

Like me, he had a heavy watch on his wrist, which cost an astounding amount of money. His was silver. Mine was gold.

And nowhere near the price of his.

“What’s going on?” I asked, shutting the door behind me and walking in.

“Flounce has just announced they’re releasing their new collection the same week we are,” Ward told me.

Flounce Couture, a competing fashion house, benefited from the market loss we recently experienced. And I took it back.

“What? They know we always release in the third week of September,” I growled.

Ward and I stared at one another as the implications sank in. We launched two collections a year. The Fall/Winter Collection and the Spring/Summer Collection - the latter was due to kick off in two months.

The success of this next collection was fundamental in meeting our financial targets for the next six months. When you’re a billion-dollar organization, that’s a lot of zeros to lose if things go wrong.

Launching at the same time would boldly compete for media and buyer attention.

Another fashion house stepping on our toes like this was unacceptable. It was appalling behavior and not at all in line with how the industry works. There was an almost old-fashioned and gentlemanly culture amongst the top design houses in the world.

Flounce is new.

And not playing by the rules.

“Shit,” I said, walking over to the floor-to-ceiling windows with a view across downtown Philadelphia. “Did you call Roberto?”

“No. He’s already announced it,” Ward growled, referring to the owner of Flounce.

“Jesus.” I ran a hand through my dark hair. “What are they thinking?”

“I’ve had messages from Gucci and Louis Vuitton. They’re as impressed as we are,” Ward said, sliding his hands into his pockets. “We will need to launch.”

Shit.

I mentally ran some calculations because our marketing agency recently lost their account manager. Veronica worked on the Verity Co. brand for years.

She won the lottery and resigned the next day. I could’ve told her to stay in her job. Statistics show that she’ll spend it all in five years and be back looking for a job.

I wasn’t upset by the news. She was average on a good day. In fact, I was considering reviewing the contract with StoryCraft because of her performance.

So her resignation was welcome.

Or so I thought.

Fast tracking a launch was going to put immense pressure on my team and the agency.

Whoever the replacement is would need to be experienced and able to hit the ground running.

We absolutely must nail this launch to sustain the growth I’d achieved. Flounce has aggressively tried to counter my strategies and failed.

A lot of people underestimated me when I started working in the company. Being young and newly qualified, they believed I’d earned the title because of my surname.

I’d gained a lot of respect from my hard work and making some changes to the way we did things which are paying off.

In between fucking a few beautiful women.

Okay, fine, more than a few.

Launching early was a risk. It could mean delivering a subpar campaign.

“We should let them go first and launch after them.” I turned to my father and took in his firm, unimpressed jaw.

“Absolutely fucking not. We’ve always launched straight after Gucci and Prada,” Ward said, ripping off his jacket. “This is an aggressive move by Flounce. Unless you can give me a damn good reason, I want the summer collection launched the first week of September.”

Fuck.

I just lost two weeks.

“Dad,” I said as he sat down in his large black executive chair and rolls up his sleeves.

His eyes shot up to mine.

“Forget how things are usually done. Flounce just threw a grenade in the mix. Let’s think this through. If we fuck this up, then it will cost us. A lot.”

“Why would we fuck it up? It’s two weeks early. Get the team working around the clock. This is important.” Ward frowned.

“Veronica resigned,” I told him.

Ward knows the team at StoryCraft well, including the owner Alexandra, so I don’t need to explain who she is.

“Her replacement starts tomorrow, but she’ll need time to get up to speed. Time we won’t have if we launch early,” I continued explaining.

Ward leaned back in his chair, his jaw clenching. A chill ran through me as I watched him studying me.

“Tell me, Knox.” His voice was angry. “Did you sleep with Veronica? Did you—”

“No, fuck!” I shook my head. “You met her.”

Hell no. She was thirty-fucking-nine. Nothing wrong with a sexy MILF, so I’m not kink shaming, but she was not my type at all.

Which, to be fair, if she was, I might have. But I keep that thought to myself. No point in irritating him further. We already disagree on this matter.

Ward leaned forward and pointed to me. “If I find out you did and it’s the reason she resigned, then we are going to have a very different conversation.”

My brows shot up.

What, like I’m a child?

Jesus, he needs to stop with this attitude.

“About who I fuck? No. We will not,” I replied, crossing my arms. “I told you before, and I will tell you one more time. My sexual activities do not interfere with business. Veronica won the lottery, so is probably in the Caribbean right about now. Not thinking about my cock.”

Ward shook his head with a grunt and punched a few keys on his laptop.

Was he Googling her?

Or just taking three long breaths so he doesn’t say something he regrets? Maybe I should.

Finally, he glanced up at me.

“We launch early. I am not letting Flounce get a jump on us. You have a competent team. Get them working with the new account manager, Knox, and make this happen.”

Fuck.

He’s not looking at this with the big picture in mind, and I think he’s making a mistake.

“Update the buyers and media today so it shuts down any question about where we stand with this season. Tell them we’re excited. Then make it happen.”

“Okay,” I replied, thinking whoever this new account manager is, they better be a superstar. It is going to be an insane six weeks to create and get the entire campaign launched.

I uncrossed my arms and started walking toward the door.

“Knox,” Ward called out. “One more thing.”

I turned and found him softened. It was like a light switch has turned on. But I was concerned.

In the past few years he’s lost my mom, had an ex-lover show up and announce he had a son, Jacob, he never knew about, and watched his stepdaughter get married.

Ironically, Jacob is related to Bella’s husband. Both of them are Dufort’s–as in the billionaires.

“What’s up?” I ask.

“I have decided it’s time to take a step back,” Ward said.

What the fuck?

SO THAT’S HOW I foundout my father was resigning from his role as CEO.

“Stepping back from what?” I asked, even though it was a stupid as fuck question. The smile he gave me makes me feel exactly that.

Stupid.

“Dad...”

“I’ll remain the main shareholder and a director, but in three months, I’m going to vacate the CEO position.”

What?

The very foundation of my life and all my plans began to tremble underneath me as I grasped what was happening.

This wasn’t the plan. I’m not ready.

I twenty fucking four.

Ward is only fifty-seven, and strong and fit. He’s never even mentioned anything like this. I thought I’d have ten, maybe fifteen years.

“You want me to take over in three months?” I asked, bewildered.

As the silence grew, and his fingers clasped on the desk in front of him, an arctic chill spread through my veins.

“No,” he answered.

What the fuck?

I feel the blood drain from my face.

No.

What did he mean no? This is what I was born for. This is what I’ve trained and prepared for my entire life. The circuits in my brain short- circuited and I just stood there staring at him.

No.

No.

No.

It’s like the word does not compute.

There is no way he’s bypassing me and giving the reins to Levis or Atlas. Bella? There’s no way. She has her hands filled with her own multi-billion-dollar company—of which we’re all shareholders thanks to our mother—and has a toddler.

“I—” I started, but I don’t have any words. This reality is not one that ever existed for me, so I can’t grasp what is happening.

I’m sure it sounds ridiculous that some rich kid would expect his father to hand him a billion-dollar organization, but that’s how things work in families like ours.

And I never expected this for decades.

Never in all the time I strutted around in my little child-size black suits with my dump truck filled briefcase did my father tell me that I would not end up with his job.

Heck, I used to hold board meetings with Bella, Atlas, and Levis in my bedroom and make them take minutes.

I was born for this.

“I’m not handing you the reins, Knox,” my father explained as my heart slammed into my chest. “You will need to apply along with the other applicants.”

Oh.

Thank fuck.

Ohhhhhh. I get it now. The company needs to show they have done their due diligence to get the right person in the role.

Which is obviously me.

I understood now.

I grin.

“But I’ll be honest. I don’t know if you’re ready for the job,” Ward said, and my grin vanished. “Yet.”

I swallowed, and I was sure I could feel a stomach ulcer manifesting deep in my gut as I keep listening.

“Son, I’ve always been clear that business is business,” Dad continued. “I’m ready to retire and the timing is off.”

Anger began brewing inside me.

“So, you’re giving the job to someone else because I’m only twenty-four?” I asked, rubbing my jaw.

Ward stood and walked over to the window and stared out while I rubbed my forehead. What the hell did I say to change his mind? I want to understand, as nothing makes sense.

My entire life felt like it’s balancing on a moving plate.

“Your performance has been outstanding in the few years you’ve been in your role,” my father said, turning. “Hence your very healthy bonus each year.”

Fuck the money. I had shit tons of it already. It was my job to lead my family’s empire. No one except a Montgomery should be sitting in his seat.

My seat.

“Let me prove myself,” I insisted, finally finding my voice.

He watched me, and I couldn’t read him.

“Dad. Come on. What would Mom say if she was here?” Yup, I was playing fucking dirty. “This is everything I have wanted my whole life.”

“You have not shown me you fully understand what it takes to do this job,” he said, and it hurt.

Deeply.

“In what way?” I asked, but I knew the answer.

“Sleeping with women inside the industry is earning you a reputation I’ve not been able to protect you from. All it takes is one thing to go wrong. And you don’t seem to be taking what I’ve said seriously.”

“Oh, come on. Look at Jacob’s cousins, Daniel and Fletcher,” I said, referring to the Dufort family in New York. “The Manhattan Playboy, wasn’t it? He was shagging one of his employees.”

“And married her,” Ward replied.

“You want me to get married?” My eyes flew open.

He had got to be joking.

“No, Knox. I want you to stop fucking the women we do business with,” he growled and walked back to his desk.

I could tell he was done. Though I wanted to argue that it’s not public knowledge, I knew that’s not completely true.

Women talk.

“That’s what your mother would have wanted,” he continued, answering the question which I now regret.

Ouch.

“You have three months, son. Consider your joy ride with Stacey Rodgers last night your last, if you want to be considered a serious applicant.”

Damn it.

How the hell did he find out?

But he always seems to.

God damn it.

Coming back to the present, I sip my coffee and wait for this new account manager who has no idea of the pressure about to be put on her shoulders.

We hear a scuffle out in the hallway, so I stand and Alexandra does the same.

“That is probably her now.”

She opens the door and when I see the woman on the floor, I let out a curse.

Please don’t let this be Payton Mills.