8. Ambrose

Chapter eight

Ambrose

T he red that clouded my gaze is suddenly tainted pink as Valerie stands frozen in the centre of the room, like a deer caught in headlights. Her eyes scan the room before they flash in Antonio's direction, and then my own.

Normally, I would welcome any interruption, these meetings tended to draw on for longer than they needed to. But, for the first time in years, that was not the case tonight.

Diego decided tonight, a casual board dinner, was the best time to bring up how the entire board feels that my brothers and I are unfit to run Vitale Holdings, and before Valerie decided to burst in, I was seconds away from telling him the only unfit thing was his suit.

I guess I owe her a thank you for stopping me before I said anything too damaging.

"Can I help you with something?" I ask, my tone is cold and clipped. She needs to get out of this room as fast as she came in.

She falters, her earlier confidence melting into a puddle around her as she gazes rapidly between Antonio and me.

She walks toward the table, reaches into the top of her dress and pulls out a few hundred euro notes, tossing them onto the table in front of Antonio. His eyes widen behind his thick, framed glasses for a second before returning to his usual apathetic stare. His hands tap the top of the table and my eyes zone in on the movement.

"I don't need your pity money."

"Val, I did–" He starts to stand up.

"Enough." My voice slices through the air, and he freezes mid-way. My eyes shift between the two of them.

"If that's all Valerie, we're in the middle of a meeting," I say, and nod my head towards the security guards who are still standing at the door.

Her mouth falls open at my dismissal, but she doesn't fight them as they guide her to the door closing it after her.

Antonio grabs the notes off the table before sinking into his seat once again.

The room falls deadly quiet as the door shuts behind Valerie. Inhaling deeply, I try to recalibrate my brain and when I look up at Diego, he's wearing the exact look I knew he would be.

"This is exactly what I'm talking about Ambrose," he sighs.

"Between the headlines in the news and outbursts like this, it makes you and your brothers seem unfit to run the company. The announcement of a new CEO, especially a successor, is supposed to raise our stock price, not drop it. With your reputation, you're lucky if new investors want to touch us with a twenty-foot pole," he adds.

My hands grip the edge of the oak table, knuckles turning a ghostly white as I try to contain the whirlwind of thoughts running through my head.

Diego Da Silva is Vitale Holdings' second largest shareholder after my brothers and I. Although it's unlikely we will be bought out, we, or rather I, can be voted out.

The eleven men in front of me make up the board. Considering my brothers and I hold only four votes if the rest agree on something, we will run into some pretty big issues .

Loyalty in the business world is a crazy thing, people tend to shift their loyalty to wherever they can get the most money and right now, that's not in my nor my brothers' favour.

"Diego, I assure you, we've got this under control. We have plans to meet with new investors to secure a major deal in the entertainment industry. The share prices will rise with time." I look up at him and his face is anything but pleased.

"Ambrose, I'm not worried about the investments, I have faith in all of you to fulfil your duties to the company. It's the reputation of the company I'm concerned about. We can't have scandal after scandal whenever your personal lives make the news, things have to either stay under wraps or be more stable," he says and I nod.

"The only time I want to see the Vitale name in the media is when we secure new deals and attract investors." He re-emphasizes his point.

"I understand, Diego. On behalf of my brothers and myself, we want to assure you all that Vitale Holdings is in the best possible hands."

After a slight pause, a few nods and hums of approval, all the board members begin filing out for the evening, while my brothers all move to take a seat. I feel like a child who has been chastised by their parents for something they didn't even do.

I call over the blonde waitress who's been working between our meeting and Valerie's table.

She nervously comes over, her eyes flashing with something wicked. Usually, she would be my perfect cup of tea, but right now my mind is tainted with a certain shade of pink and the scent of jasmine.

"A round of scotch for my brothers and I."

She nods too eagerly and my eyes travel to her name tag. "Oh, and Erica, when a Vitale covers a bill and tells you not to mention who it's from, we expect you to keep your mouth shut. You're fired."

Her jaw drops, eyes wide "B–But," she stammers out.

"Just get the scotch. "

"Ambrose," Augustus says, his hand stretched out as if to ask me what the fuck .

"If she can't even fucking keep a payment a secret, how can she keep quiet about what happens in these meetings?"

He bites his tongue, withholding his response but not without a death glare in my direction.

I sink into my seat and silence fills the room. The tension is high with unspoken words, the weight of the meeting hanging over all of us.

Outrage floods through me that so many on the board agree with the idea that neither I nor my brothers are fit enough to run the company.

Without my father and his brother, none of these motherfuckers would have their mansions or luxury sports cars. They'd be lucky enough to even be employed. My father took a risk with every person sitting in the room. Many of them had almost no experience when they were hired yet, now they all sit ready to go to war over his position. Not even two weeks after he's been laid to rest.

Erica places the scotch on the table, small sniffles accompanying her in and out of the room, and as soon as the door shuts I inhale deeply.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" My voice booms through the room. None of my brothers flinch, they all simply sit staring straight ahead like three naughty toddlers.

After a beat of silence, Antonio speaks up. "How the fuck was I supposed to know she'd come in?" His eyes are ablaze and visible, now that he's placed his glasses carefully into their case.

I don't respond. Instead, I turn to Adriano who's looking at me in shock. "And I suppose you're going to say ‘How the fuck was I supposed to know she'd storm in?'" I say, mocking Antonio's words.

Adriano's shocked expression transforms into a scowl, but no words leave his lips.

"Her timing could not have been any worse, if anything, it only motivated Diego's point."

"I don't see why I'm here," Augustus speaks up, throwing his scotch back like it's water.

My eyes thin into slits as I stare at him. If any of my brothers know how to push my buttons, it's Augustus. We are the least alike, and our differences have always brought about tension, long before my father even passed. The bruises and cuts across his face have since faded, but the visual is still there when I look at him.

Where I am hardworking and ambitious, Augustus is more go-with-the-flow and takes life as it comes. Where I've had to work for what I want, he's had everything handed to him.

"In case you've become hard of hearing from all your little fashion shows, Diego said they lack confidence in all four of us."

"But we all know he's only referring to you, he just couldn't call you out in front of the entire board." Adriano snaps, coming to his twin's defence right on cue.

"Exactly, because the last time that I checked, the only Vitale making headlines is you," Antonio chirps in.

"Until you get your little Barbie doll under control, I don't want to hear shit coming out of your mouth." I snap at my youngest brother.

His face contorts as he rises to his feet. "Or what?"

I don't know when it happened, but sometime in the last week, Antonio has grown a pair of balls but somehow is only capable of using them to piss me off.

"Unless I'm mistaken, you're fucked without me. You have no CFO to manage any of the non-existent investors you spoke about, so I'd be a lot nicer if I were you." He spits.

"Get your shit under control before you start pointing fingers, brother," Adriano says, throwing his scotch back as well.

Adriano and Gus are the first to leave, Antonio remains behind as he gathers all his papers from his presentation. He walks towards the door, his scotch glass still untouched .

"Oh, and by the way, your new assistant starts on Monday," he says, stopping at the door.

"New assistant?"

"Yeah, since you decided to ‘fuck and duck' the last one."

"Who is it?"

A smirk grows on his face. "Goodnight, Ambrose."

I pick up my glass and swirl the amber liquid around. For some reason, I get the feeling I know exactly who my new assistant is, and my life is starting to have a constant haze of pink.