3. Graham

My family has a vacation house in Colorado that they rarely ever use. I don't think any of them even remember its existence. Except me. Which is why it's the perfect place for me to go to anytime I need to lie low for a couple of days. And that's what I decide to do when it becomes clear I'm never going to get a clear enough head to make a decision about my future while in New York.

The plan is simple. Relax for a couple of days, take a break for the rest of the world. I've been here for two days and it's going well. I've mostly been indoors because it's fucking freezing in Boulder this time of the year, but it suits me perfectly.

I climb onto the treadmill in the house, powering it up before beginning a slow jog. I've managed to work up a sweat when I receive a call. I step off the treadmill to grab my phone and answer.

"Hello?"

"Graham, my man!" the voice on the other end says enthusiastically. "It's me, Sloane. We partied together last year when you were in town."

"Oh, right," I say dully. I vaguely remember a short blonde man who invited me to a party one night. "Sloane. How have you been?"

"I've been good, man. Hey so I saw that the lights were on in your house. Are you in town?"

"Yeah."

"That's great, man. We missed you here. Listen, there's a party going on in town. Bunch of college alumni or some shit. It'll be great. You should come," he says slowly, sounding very much like he's high.

I briefly wonder how we even met in the first place. But knowing the company I tend to keep, it's not surprising.

"I think I'll pass. But thanks for the invitation."

"Really? You've been coming to Boulder for years and I always see you at parties," Sloane presses.

"I could be there in spirit. Who knows: If you squint really hard, maybe you'll see me," I say jokingly.

Sloane, of course, takes me literally. "That would be crazy, man. You'd be like a ghost or some shit."

I chuckle. Yeah, he's definitely high. "Thanks again for the invitation."

"Alright. Bet. But I'll text you the location. Just in case you change your mind."

I hang up, sure I'm not going to be taking him up on his offer. If I want to change and become a better version of myself, I think the first step would be putting my partying frat boy ways behind me.

I'm about to get back to my work out when my phone rings again. I groan softly at the sight of my sister's face flashing across the screen. I consider not picking up, but knowing Mikayla, she'll just call repeatedly until I do.

"Hey, little sis," I say upon answering the video call.

Her face fills the screen. She's seated in her office at the company. I take in the dark skyline of the city behind her.

"Graham, you dumbass. Where the hell are you?"

"Why? Did someone die?" I question, moving away from the living area to the kitchen to grab a can of Coke.

"No. And don't say that," she hisses. "Where are you?"

"Why do you want to know?"

Her brown eyes narrow. "Gray, do you realize that in all my twenty-five years of knowing you, you have never answered a question directly before. Would it kill you once in a while to just reply honestly?"

I shrug. "Probably."

"Just tell me where you are!" she screeches.

I'm a little startled by it. "I'm at the vacation house in Boulder, geez."

"Vacation house? You're in Boulder right now? Isn't it cold this time of the year?"

"Yeah, a little, but this house happens to have an exceptional heater, plus heated floors. Keeps everything nice and toasty."

Mikayla's not impressed. "Why are you in Boulder?"

"Why not?"

"My patience is wearing thin, big brother," she states. Her right eye practically twitches.

I smile. She can be so dramatic sometimes.

"I just came here to chill for a couple of days. It's nothing serious," I inform her.

"And after?" she prompts. "Will you come home so dad will stop looking at me like I'm his last hope of finding a child to inherit his company?"

"About that," I drawl. "Any interest?"

"Of course not. I hate working here. Maybe when you take over, I can finally quit and find something better to occupy myself."

"Figured as much. But there's no guarantee I'll take over, Kay. He's not just going to hand over the position. Especially not to me."

"Which is why you need to come back and show him that you're ready for it. Show him that you've changed and that you're more than capable of taking care of the company."

"You think I've changed?"

"Well, no," my sister says bluntly. "You're not a chameleon or a shapeshifter."

I roll my eyes at that.

"But I think you're ready to do better. Xander almost getting killed was a wakeup call for you, even if you won't admit it. I saw how you were in the hospital. It was the first time I've ever seen you look that worried."

"Of course I was worried. He's my brother. Well, half-brother. But that feels really inconsequential nowadays," I mutter.

"It's always felt inconsequential to me," Mikayla points out.

"I know. Anyway, I hear you. Everyone's so far up my ass over this shit," I state, rolling my eyes. "I'll return to D.C. once I'm done here in a couple of days. Then I'll let Father play judge, jury, and executioner and dole out my sentence. What do you think it's going to be? You think he'll send me to work at one of the smaller branches for a month or two?"

Mikayla ponders that for a second. "He could always demote you to a janitor or something. So you'll have to work from like the utmost bottom," she says, laughing.

"Very funny," I mutter.

"It was never going to be easy, Gray. But it'll be worth it," my sister says soberly. "And if you ask me, I've always secretly thought you deserved the position more than Xander."

"Bullshit," I mutter.

"No, seriously. You try so hard to hide it, but you actually care. About the company, the employees. I've seen you take the time to ask how they're doing and what could be done to improve their experience in the company. You're the only one that's ever thinking of them. You remember during that crisis we had a few years ago? When the board voted to fire a bunch of employees? Who raised hell and made sure the plan was dropped?"

"Me," I murmur, a little surprised that she remembers all that, that she was even paying attention.

"Xander was always more interested in numbers and results. He's more driven toward success when it comes to business. I have no doubt that'll help him as he establishes his own company. But right now, Steele Industries needs a CEO like you, Gray."

I clear my throat. "Damn, Kay. That might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"Don't get used to it. You're my ticket out of here, big brother. So get your ass back here and fix your mess."

I roll my eyes. That's more like it. "Alright, fine. I've got it."

"Good. And one more thing," Mikayla adds. Her smile practically dissipates, her face becoming more serious.

"What's up?"

"Mom said you haven't been returning her calls."

And just like that, my mood crashes. My jaw clenches.

"She knows better than to send you to me. I'll return her calls when I fucking want to."

"She's just worried about you, Gray. She said you haven't spoken to her in ages. I know you think you're punishing her, but you've been punishing her for months. Hasn't she had enough?"

"Kay, drop it," I grit out.

"I just don't think you're being fair!" my sister exclaims.

"And I think I'm done with this conversation."

Before she can say anything else, I'm hanging up the call. It never ceases to amaze me how the mere mention of my mom can bring my mood completely crashing down. I head for the fridge; I need something a little stronger than Coke. I'm reaching for a bottle of beer when I remember the invitation I received earlier.

Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to attend the party.

Coming here was a terrible idea. But I learned early on in my life that any experience will automatically be upgraded once you get some alcohol in your system. The party's in a club with booming music and dancing bodies everywhere. It's exactly the place I used to thrive. And the best place for a distraction.

I'm heading for the bar when a woman sidles up in front of me. She's seemingly drunk, about 5'8" with short brown hair and wide blue eyes. She trails a finger down my chest, which is bare thanks to a couple of open buttons.

"Hey, handsome," she greets, leaning up to whisper in my ear.

I manage a smile. The problem with Boulder is that it's a city that's home to the University of Colorado. Which means half the women I usually run into here are way too young for me. When I'm in town, I usually stay away from the locals and the college kids. And the girl in front of me looks very much like a college kid.

"You look amazing, beautiful. But I'm not interested," I tell her, raising my voice slightly so I'm heard over the music.

She pouts but is ultimately a good sport about it, walking away to find someone else. I hope she has fun tonight. I continue making my way toward the large expansive bar. Once I arrive, I take a seat in front and call for a waiter. I order a drink and it's made available almost a minute later.

I take a sip, looking around the club. I'm trying to see if I can find Sloane, although I doubt I will. Besides, I'm not in the mood for company. Just a couple of drinks to let loose. When I'm done with my drink, I turn to order another one. Which is when I notice a woman a couple feet away from me at the bar.

I stare for a couple of seconds. And why I try to look away, I find my gaze being drawn back to her again. She's fucking gorgeous. She's wearing a backless, purple mini dress that hugs her body in all the right places. Her brown hair is in loose curls, pulled over one shoulder. I can't tell what color are eyes are from here, but I already know they'll be mesmerizing. The confidence with which she carries herself is fucking sexy.

I watch as she orders a drink from the bartender. Once it arrives, she takes a sip, her gaze moving around the club, just as mine was earlier. She looks at ease, in control, with a fierce look in her eyes. When a man approaches her out of the crowd, I almost want to tell him not to bother. From the way he looks, a woman like her wouldn't give him the time of the day.

I'm proven correct when she rolls her eyes at the sight of him. He says something to her but she doesn't seem interested. He's gone in only a manner of seconds.

I continue to watch, intrigued, as she turns down another guy in a matter of seconds. I'm surprised she doesn't notice how hard I'm staring at her. And I'm also trying to figure out if it would be worth it to go over there and talk to her. I'm not daunted by the number of men she's turned down tonight. They weren't me.

But something's holding me back. So I continue to observe, my intrigue growing by the second. My phone rings suddenly, distracting me and I wrench my eyes from the woman to grab it from my pocket. It's a call from my father. My jaw ticks at the sight of his name flashing across the screen. I already know what he has to say. He's probably calling to make sure I'm not getting up to any shit here.

With a soft sigh, I get to my feet, heading for a quieter area in the club in order to receive the call.

"Yes father?" I say upon answering.

His voice is crisp and clear on the other hand. My father speaks to all of his children like he's speaking to a business associate.

"Graham, I've been informed that you're in Colarado."

"You were informed correctly," I retort unable to keep the snark from my voice.

He ignores it, "Ensure you don't do anything to embarrass our family while you are there. You and I are both aware of your past escapades in that town. Anything you do will reflect poorly on the rest of us."

It's the same shit I've been hearing since I was a kid. It's never stopped me from doing whatever the hell I want however.

"You realize this is the first time you've spoken to me in weeks, right?"

My old man has been giving me the shoulder since I fucked up with Xander and Nate, exposing them to the press. Granted, it's a punishment I deserve but it still pisses me off that he's only calling to make sure I don't embarrass him.

"Because you disgraced our family, like you always do."

My jaw clenches. "I'm sorry for being such a fucking disgrace," I spit.

Sometimes I want to not give a fuck about what he says. But other times, there's this part of me that wants to change his mind. That wants to show him and everyone else, that I can be much better than they give me credit for.

"You're my son, Graham. A Steele. Start acting like it."

And with that the line goes dead. I stare at the screen of my phone for a second, filled with the sudden urge to crush the device in my hand.

Maybe I shouldn't have answered the fucking call.