A Bargain With The Boss

“Tuck?” Jamison scoffed.

The derision in his father’s voice shouldn’t have bothered Tuck. But it did. Even after all these years, he still felt the sting in his father’s lack of faith and respect.

“He’s a vice president,” said Dixon.

“In name only. And barely that.”

“Dad—”

“Don’t you Dad me. You know your brother’s shortcomings as well as I do. You want to take an extended vacation? Now?”

“I didn’t choose the timing.”

Jamison’s voice moderated. “She did you wrong, son. Everybody knows that.”

“My wife of ten years betrayed every promise we ever made to each other. Do you have any idea how that feels?”

Tuck’s sympathies went out to Dixon. It had been a terrible few months since Dixon had caught Kassandra in bed with another man. The final divorce papers had arrived earlier this week. Dixon hadn’t said much about them. In fact, he’d been unusually tight-lipped.

“And you’re angry. And that’s fine. But you bested her in the divorce. We held up the prenup and she’s walking away with next to nothing.”

All emotion left Dixon’s voice. “It’s all about the money to you, isn’t it?”

“It was to her,” said Jamison.

There was a break in the conversation, and Tuck realized they could easily emerge from the library and catch him eavesdropping. He took a silent step back toward the front door.

“Tuck deserves a chance,” said Dixon.

Tuck froze again to listen.

“Tuck had a chance,” said Jamison, his words stinging once again.

When? Tuck wanted to shout. When had he had a chance to do anything but sit in his executive floor office and feel like an unwanted guest?

But as quickly as the emotion formed, he reminded himself that he didn’t care. His only defense against his father was not to care about respect or recognition or making any meaningful contribution to the family business. Most people would kill for Tuck’s lifestyle. He needed to shut up and enjoy it.

“I knew this was a bad idea,” said Dixon.

“It was a terrible idea,” said Jamison.

Tuck reached behind himself and opened the front door. Then he shut it hard, making a show of tromping his feet over the hardwood floor.

“Hello?” he called out as he walked toward the library, giving them ample time to pretend they’d been talking about something else.

“Hi, Tuck.” His brother greeted him as he entered the dark-hued, masculine room.

“I didn’t see your car out front,” Tuck told him.

“I parked it in the garage.”

“So you’re staying over?”

Dixon had a penthouse downtown, where he’d lived with Kassandra, but he occasionally spent a day or two at the family home.

“I’m staying over,” said Dixon. “I sold the penthouse today.”

From the expression on his father’s face, Tuck could tell this was news to him, as well.

“So you’ll be here for a while?” Tuck asked easily. He loosened his tie and pulled it off. “What are you drinking?”

“Glen Garron,” Jamison answered.

“Sounds good.” Tuck shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it onto one of the deep red leather wingback chairs.

With a perimeter of ceiling-high shelves, a stone fireplace, oversize leather chairs and ornately carved walnut tables, the library hadn’t changed in seventy years. It had been built by Tuck’s grandfather, Randal, as a gentleman’s retreat, back in the days when gentlemen thought they had something to retreat from.

Tuck didn’t fill the silence, but instead waited to see where his father and brother would take the conversation.

“How was your date?” his father asked.

“It was fine.”

Jamison looked pointedly at his heavy platinum watch.

“She wasn’t exactly a rocket scientist,” Tuck said, answering the unspoken question.

“You’ve dated a rocket scientist?” asked Jamison.

Tuck frowned at his father’s mocking tone.

The two men locked gazes for a moment before Jamison spoke. “I merely wondered how you had a basis for comparison.”

“First date?” Dixon queried, his tone much less judgmental.

Tuck crossed to the wet bar and flipped up a cut crystal glass. “Last date.”

Dixon gave a chopped laugh.

Tuck poured a measure of scotch. “Interested in the game with Shane tomorrow?” he asked his brother.

“Can’t,” said Dixon.

“Work?” asked Tuck.

“Tying up loose ends.”

Tuck turned to face the other men. “With the penthouse?”