38. Alex

Chapter 38

Alex

" Alexander," Frank Hamilton said at 4:49, greeting me with a firm clap on my back. "Nice of you to finally join us."

Fred Houghton, the other equity partner, scowled. "We considered sending directions so you wouldn't get lost and disappear again."

I tamped down a surge of resentment. Cocky, arrogant, and entitled, but not angry. Before they offered a seat, I pulled out a chair and manspread. "My father is fine, thanks for asking. And all paperwork was filed by the deadline."

If something went missing I could have shifted the blame, but it didn't so I claimed the credit like the arrogant prick they believed I was.

"No thanks to you," Houghton glowered.

"That's why we have paralegals," I forced myself to shrug, unimpeachable. "I didn't see you at the table on Christmas Eve. You sent me because you knew I could negotiate the shit out of the deal, not because you need me to file every paper. That's called delegation, Fred."

I'd never called him Fred before, it had always been a respectful 'Mr. Houghton,' but when it slipped out, I met his eyes without backing down.

An hour ago, I'd been ready to give up. But for the first time all week, taking in their smug faces and belittling tone, a new feeling rose in my gut: defiance .

Houghton blinked first, shuffling papers. Hamilton leaned on the table to loom over me. "The clients were livid you left before the deal was signed."

I leaned back, aggressively casual. "The clients can wipe up their tears with the signed contract. I'm there to make money, not friendship bracelets."

"You were right, Frank," Houghton said, lips pressed tightly. "I didn't believe you when you said he was more ruthless than ever in New York."

"Alexander, it's time for your tenure as senior associate to end ..."

My shoulders hunched, ready for them to call security. It took a moment to recognize the wave of emotion that rolled through me …

Relief. Sweet, blissful relief.

" … so you can take your rightful place as a partner."

I forced an indifferent expression except for an arrogantly raised brow.

Entitled, Victoria had coached. I'd poured my blood, sweat, and tears into this company. I'd neglected my family, my health, my relationships. I'd walked away from the best thing I'd ever had because I'd earned this promotion. I hadn't expected it today, but I wouldn't let it show.

"It's about fucking time," I snickered.

Hamilton grinned in the proud dad expression I would have killed for three months ago, but now it raised my suspicions. "I told you he finally manned up. Those two were better than ever in New York."

Is that why Victoria knew I wouldn't get fired? Had she teased me because they'd already extended her an offer?

Houghton poured three glasses of bourbon. I pretended to drink mine but didn't let it past my lips. I wanted to stay clear-headed, especially if they were lowering their guards.

"Is this retroactive? Will I get a partner stake for the merger?"

"What a shark. No fucking way." Houghton grinned. "But we have another idea for how you can make us all even richer: Managing Partner of our new Entertainment Division."

My heart dropped into my stomach. "You're adding another practice area?"

Hamilton refilled their glasses. "We have ambitious plans to reach beyond nanotech and fintech. We're poised to enter the next most lucrative market. "

He slid over an old photograph of me, Victoria, and Nick in his Mercutio costume from that evening's production of Romeo & Juliet . I posted it on my Facebook profile before Nick's career exploded and I left social media. My smile was wide enough to take over my whole face. Victoria glowed, her forehead smooth instead of creased with worry and her mouth relaxed Nick looked sweaty and eager after doing what he loved, with an affectionate arm around both our shoulders.

This was the answer to that question Mallory had asked.

This was the last time I'd been happy before I met Grace.

This job had sucked all the joy out of my life.

Hamilton's voice jarred me out of my reverie. "The Partnership Committee was reviewing your file last month and found this photo from when you were hired. Of course, we didn't think anything of it at the time, when he was a nobody." He swished his bourbon. "Imagine our surprise that our senior associate already has an in."

An in. Not a human, not my brother. An in .

This time I sipped the bourbon to stall, letting it burn down my throat.

"You should have disclosed that relationship," Houghton chided. "We could have promoted you earlier."

"Guess I could have skipped those eighty-hour weeks if you'd known my pedigree." They laughed, missing the bitter edge of my voice.

I'd hustled to prove my worth apart from my brother and it hadn't meant shit. None of it mattered now that they knew me as Dominic Martin's brother — no, scratch that. They knew that ‘I have an in' with him, and by proxy, his show's cast, production staff, and network executives.

"If your business development efforts prove successful," Hamilton continued, "you could be equity partner within five years. Your name on the door before you turn 40."

Everything Victoria and I wanted, unfolding faster than we projected. The culmination of years of hard work within reach.

So why did I feel like shit ?

"Hollywood is a young man's game." Hamilton pressed on, unaware of the sinking feeling in my chest. "We need a fresh face with an inside track and a beautiful woman who supports his aspirations."

I almost choked. The only beautiful woman I wanted hid under the covers when my brother called.

I avoided Hamilton's smarmy expression. Houghton assumed I was eyeballing the stack of papers because he slid them across the table. They sipped their bourbon as I flipped through them: Practice group leadership agreement. Los Angeles housing stipend. Business development goals. Sales quota and commission structure. Client signing bonuses.

I had negotiated the biggest mergers in this firm's history and was one of the best goddamn acquisition lawyers in the state … but this wasn't a job description for an accomplished law partner, it was for a glorified salesperson. They expected me to throw out years of experience to shake hands with actors and producers, because of my fucking ‘in.'

"Where's the fun part?" I asked casually as I skimmed the job responsibilities and let my arrogance shine through, "Who do I get to yell at?"

"Negotiate the contracts to sign talent. You won't need a partner's share of mergers if you're earning signing bonuses."

"Los Angeles, not New York? Even though that's where I last saw my connection?" It killed me to refer to Nick like that, but if that's how they think of him, I wouldn't humanize him so they expected vicarious access. They weren't fit to lick his dorky fucking Converse.

"We're a California-based company," Houghton said severely. "Plus you go rogue in New York."

Great, they were offering me a partnership in name only and a 300-mile leash.

I flipped the contract closed since it was making me nauseous. "Does Victoria's partnership agreement have this same compensation structure?" These same bullshit sales commissions , I wanted to say.

Hamilton's brow raised. "What now?"

"Victoria's partnership agreement," I repeated slowly. "Is it as heavily weighted to business development? "

The two men exchanged a nervous glance before Hamilton said, "We'll ensure that Victoria is adequately compensated for her —"

"Oh give it up, Frank," Houghton interrupted, cheeks reddened from his third bourbon in ten minutes, which may not have been his first of the day. "We know you're fucking her."

"Fred —"

"If he's going to be partner, he'll have to stop pussyfooting around this." Houghton stood and pointed an angry finger. "I saw you two at Spencer Burke's wedding, you were clearly a couple. You shared a suite in New York last month and live ‘across the hall' from each other," he said with poorly executed air quotes. "She can act all proper up on her high horse, just like her father, but we know —"

Hamilton forcibly pushed his business partner into his chair. "We appreciate your discretion, but you can disclose your relationship. When neither of you came back from New York …" he glanced at the decade-old photo and lifted his hands in a not-apology. "The cat's out of the bag."

I wanted to scrape my chair back to make a big production of storming out like she taught me. I wanted to scream that I hadn't slept with Victoria in over a year, that I'd been with the most wonderful woman on earth, but they didn't deserve to know her name.

I wanted to tell them to go fuck themselves.

Instead, I calmly tugged on my bottom lip with my thumb and index finger and repeated my original question. If they thought Victoria was mine, I was entitled to ask. "What's the compensation in her partnership agreement?"

"What agreement?" Houghton yelled in confusion. "When you move to LA, we assume she'll move with you, is that what you mean? Whether you can take her as an associate on your expansion team?"

Hamilton sighed. "The real estate practice group would struggle, but as long as it doesn't impact her billable hours, we can let her work from LA if you need a trophy wife."

A trophy wife? Jesus, not only did I not want to marry Victoria … she'd castrate anyone who expected her to relegate herself to being a trophy wife. She'd moved across the country to escape her family's expectation of being a pretty face in a ceremonial role .

"Ms. Blackstone is tenacious," Hamilton said. "Everything we want in an associate, but a partner should be more congenial. A family man who the clients want to take out for a beer."

Right, the universal test of leadership: ability to drink beer. Add in the unspoken expectation of ‘Lady in the streets, freak in the sheets,' but in the corporate realm: ‘Shark in the courtroom and a lady in the boardroom.'

I imagined my sister's reaction to this conversation — red-faced, fists clenched, her tiny body vibrating with righteous indignation — as I said calmly, "Victoria could embody family values, but she put that timeline on hold for this firm."

Hamilton shifted uncomfortably, "We have observed that after maternity leave, female associates exhibit a decline."

The air was so full of misogynist bullshit that I almost couldn't breathe through the stench. "Is that company policy?"

"Of course not," Hamilton answered too quickly. "The Partnership Committee evaluates each candidate based on their merits, billing hours, client book of business, and commitment to company values. We need to make sure our leadership is the right fit. You understand that our legacy is at stake?"

Oh, I understood. They wanted to hand over their business to other men — Mallory would point out: straight, cisgender, educated white men. A continuation of the old boys' club, with no room for diversity or innovation. They wanted me to play the role of the ‘family man,' to marry a trophy wife and hire a nanny to raise the kids, to display their pictures but never attend dance recitals or teach them how to ski. Skiing was for business development, or maybe team building, but not for fun. Never for fun.

God forbid we have any fucking fun .

"I understand completely," I said calmly. I understood that I was stuck working for these misogynist assholes, kissing my brother's friends' asses until I'd made them enough money to get my name on the door.

Then I could advocate for Victoria. Then I could change the rules.

Until then, I was fucked.

I rose from the chair, buttoning my suit jacket. "I'll speak to my brother."

"You're going to be the youngest partner in our firm's history," Hamilton said, exuding paternal pride .

Houghton leaned in. "Now that the secret's out … is it true what they say about redheads?"

I cleared my throat. "What is it they say exactly?"

Thankfully Hamilton changed the subject. "How did you manage to keep your brother a secret? Unless …" his eyes widened like he'd just had a terrible thought, which absolutely should have occurred before pitching this promotion.

I contemplated the years of strain based on my resentment at his burgeoning fame. Then I thought about true estrangement, the deep-rooted hostility from Grace's father and brother.

Maintaining a tight-lipped smile, I replied, "Our family values his privacy. As you've demonstrated, things change when people realize that your brother is," I scolded them with my gaze, "Apollo, the God of Truth."