God, I Hate That Man Read online

  God, I Hate That Man

  Iona Rose

  River Laurent

  Contents

  Introduction

  1. Finn

  2. Finn

  3. Finn

  4. Finn

  5. Ashley

  6. Finn

  7. Finn

  8. Finn

  9. Ashley

  10. Finn

  11. Ashley

  12. Finn

  13. Ashley

  14. Ashley

  15. Finn

  16. Ashley

  17. Finn

  18. Ashley

  19. Finn

  20. Finn

  21. Ashley

  22. Finn

  23. Finn

  24. Ashley

  Epilogue

  Come Say Hello!

  Other Books

  Thank You To

  Leanore Elliott

  Brittany Urbaniak

  Cover Couture

  www.bookcovercouture.com

  God, I Hate That Man

  Copyright © 2020 by Iona Rose

  The right of Iona Rose to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the copyright, designs and patent act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious, any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  978-1-911608-42-4

  Introduction

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  1

  Finn

  I lean against the balcony wall and take a long pull from the cigarette I bummed off my Grandpa’s lawyer. The last time I smoked was when I was nineteen, but today is bad, crazy bad. I’ve been out here on the balcony for what seems like a lifetime, and I’m almost done with my cigarette, but it’s done nothing to calm me down.

  I shake my head, partly in disbelief, and partly in anger. My lips twist into a smile. It’s not the sort of smile that reaches my eyes. It’s bitter. After ninety years on earth, the old man couldn’t just let go and enjoy heaven or wherever he has gone.

  “You’ve really fucking done it this time, Grandpa,” I mutter under my breath.

  I look out over the carefully cultivated grounds of my parents’ home, trying to stop the thoughts of my grandpa, who, it seems, has excelled himself and found a way to fuck with me even from beyond the grave.

  The wind picks up, rustling the leaves of the tall trees around the edges of the huge lawn. The gardener is cleaning the massive Romanesque marble fountain my father had imported from Italy as a wedding gift for my mother. She is very proud of it.

  I caught hell off her for squirting a whole bottle of dish soap into the water when I was seven. I was delighted with the result. I thought it looked magical with bubbles and suds everywhere.

  My mother, not so much.

  I straighten and take one last drag of the foul cigarette, then crush it out in the ashtray on the glass table behind me.

  I should have known something like this was coming. Obviously, not this exact thing, I never could have predicted this one in a million years, but I should have known there would be something. My grandpa has always challenged me, pushed me to be the best version of myself, even when I resisted him, but this? This one is completely, totally, utterly from left field.

  Throughout his entire life, he never did anything without a reason. When he asked me to run his company for him seven years ago, I should have guessed there would be a catch, that it was only the first phase of his plan for me.

  I guess I was naïve, but when he told me he had terminal cancer and he wanted me to take the helm, I thought maybe I had finally done it. I’d impressed the unimpressible man enough to have him take a back seat and leave me to it. But no, I hadn’t. We were at loggerheads the whole time. Ninety-five percent of the time he was wrong, but it was worth the stress for the five percent when he had the better solution.

  He’s finally done it now though. He’s set me a challenge he thought I wouldn’t be able to rise to.

  “You underestimated me, Grandpa. I see your challenge and I fucking raise you the final victory,” I say to him, wherever he is. Then I head towards the doors leading back into the house.

  I step back inside the house, and walk through the cooler, air conditioned air of the interior. I make my way quickly towards the large, elegant dining room, which is where my mother, my dad, and Andrew Garfield, my grandpa’s lawyer and the executor of his will, are waiting.

  My mother usually looks young for her age, but today, her face shows the strain of this meeting. My dad is as stoic as ever, hiding his fury behind a stony mask of neutrality. Anyone who knows him well though, will not fail to see the little tic above his jawbone, a sure sign that he’s tightly holding himself from blowing a gasket.

  Thank God, he got his share of Grandpa’s fortune without having to jump through the hoops I’m having too. Grandpa played it clever. He knew it’s not about the money for me. If it were, I’d have walked away a long time ago and told him to stuff it. He’s made it about something I feel is mine. Something I’ve spent the last three years building to the exclusion of everything else.

  Hell, I’ve poured everything I have into this business.

  I can’t just let go of it, and he fucking knew it. It’s my life. Especially not now, when I’m just about to transition it into the next level and turn it into something amazing.

  As I step into the room, Andrew looks at me expectantly. I ignore his eyes and stop off at the dresser to pour myself a glass of iced water from a jug. I don’t want the water. I want a very large glass of whisky, but there you have it. I compose my face as I pour the water, then I saunter over to the long table and retake my seat. “Okay, Andrew. Run this thing by me again,” I say.

  He does it with pleasure. After all, he bills clients, in this case, my grandpa’s estate, at five hundred dollars an hour, so he’s in no hurry at all.

  As he drones on, I start tapping my fingers on the table.

  Finally, he gets to the dreaded part. He clears his throat and gets it out, “In order to inherit your grandfather’s shares and gain full control of the company, you’ll have to marry Ashley Winters, the granddaughter of Walter Winters, who co-founded the company with your grandfather.” Andrew stops and watches me over the top of his silver framed glasses.

  This had been the point I had walked out of the room before… in furious shock.

  “And if I don’t?” I ask quietly.

  “Then the shares go to the board, being shared equally between them, giving you no voting rights, although your job as CEO will be safe, of course.”

  My grandpa knew how I would view this. What’s the point in being the CEO of a company if you can’t make any important or risky decisions? I had gotten the company this far because I’d made decisions other men wouldn’t. This deal would suit some people, but I
am not one of those people. And Grandpa knew this.

  I had begun to take the company in a completely new direction, one my grandpa allowed to happen, but it was clear the board seemed wary. They still are. Given half the chance, they would crash all my hard work and just keep the company ticking along at its present state. They don’t understand that if the company doesn’t grow now, it will be a dead duck in today’s digital world.

  Andrew looks at me calmly.

  The choice is simple. Marry Walter’s granddaughter or stand back and let all of the work be for nothing and watch from afar as the company slowly disintegrates until there’s nothing left of it. “And this Ashley. She’s agreed to this?” I ask.

  “Not exactly,” Andrew mutters, looking uncomfortable for the first time since he arrived here in his expensive car and his expensive suit. “Ms. Winters has no idea she is part of this clause.”

  “What?” I explode.

  “You’ll have to… um… talk her into it.”

  “I don’t fucking believe this,” I mutter and shoot to my feet. “So what’s in it for her?” I demand. “Why would she agree to this—this— madness?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t help you with that one, Finn. Your grandfather’s answer when I asked him the same question was that you’ll use your natural charm.”

  “Oh well, that should be easy enough then,” I say sarcastically.

  “Financial inducements do help,” Andrew suggests delicately.

  The truth is, he could be right. If I agree to this, and get this Ashley girl to agree to it, then I can make Ashley the sort of financial offer she won’t be able to refuse.

  “Mr. Garfield,” my mother burst out, ever formal, even though Andrew has told her to call him Andrew a hundred times. “This is completely ridiculous. The terms are archaic and are just a sign of that old fool trying to control not just Finn’s life, but the life of this poor girl’s too. It’s not realistic and there must be some way around it.”

  “There isn’t,” Andrew says. “I’m afraid Finn’s grandfather made this particular specification watertight, Helen. He’s even closed the senility loophole by getting a certification that he was of sound mind from a psychiatrist.”

  “We’ll go to court. Fight it. No court will uphold such a silly clause,” my mom fumes fiercely.

  Andrew looks a little surprised, although he hides it well, covering the tiny flash of emotion by clearing his throat and pushing his glasses up his nose. “You could try it, but I guarantee you will lose. The will is clear and has been through all of the correct channels. And even if you do win the case, there will be nothing left to win.”

  “What do you mean?” my father asks.

  He’s been silent throughout the rest of the meeting and we all turn to look at him.

  “The terms are clear,” Andrew explains. “If the will is contested, the company is to go on the market immediately and be sold for one hundred thousand dollars and it cannot be bought by any of the family or by any proxy of this family.”

  “What?” my mother cries in disbelief.

  “But it’s worth three hundred times that,” my father exclaims.

  “Actually, it’s worth three hundred and seventy nine times that.” Andrew nods. “And that’s the point. The company will be sold for one hundred thousand dollars, and by the time the fees and taxes are paid, Finn will stand to inherit around two thousand dollars.”

  “Well damn,” my father says, shaking his head. He tries to hide it, but there is grudging admiration in his voice at how truly wily the old man was. “He’s really got this sewn-up, hasn’t he?”

  “So it would seem,” Andrew replies.

  “Look Mr. Garfield, I know the man was my father-in-law, and I hate to say this, but he was clearly insane when he wrote this will. Finn has worked so hard bettering this company and quite frankly, he deserves better,” my mom states.

  “I’m not here to debate what your son deserves, Helen,” Andrew replies. “I’m here to see to it that your father-in-law’s will is adhered to. He wasn’t insane when the will was drafted, as three separate psychiatrists attested to, in the event you tried to pull that card.” He turns his attention back to me. “The choice is simple Finn. You remain at the company as an employee with a big office, an obscene salary, and a fancy title, or you marry Ashley Winters and run the company as you see fit. That’s really all there is to say on the matter. I’ll leave you my card and you can call me when you have made your decision. You have three business days to decide, and if I don’t hear from you within that time frame, then the company goes on the market.”

  “Three days,” my mother gasps incredulously. “That’s not enough time to bake a fruit cake.”

  “I’ll do it,” I say. I never had any real doubt in my mind. I would do it. I would show my grandpa I am worthy one last time and I would keep the company I’d turned around with my blood, sweat, and tears, if it was the last thing I ever did.

  “Finn, you don’t have to do this,” my father cautions. “Those aren’t the only two choices. You can walk into any firm in the city, and get a real job where you have real power and real responsibilities. Better still, you can start your own. Between you and me, we have enough.”

  “I know that, Dad, but it wouldn’t be the same. I can’t walk away. Not after I have given everything to this company. I can’t see it fall into the hands of a board who knows nothing about the current market trends and watch them run it into the ground.”

  “But you’ve never even met this girl,” my mom cries.

  I shrug. “It will only be a marriage of convenience.” I don’t add on the rest of what I’m thinking. It’ll be a quick wedding, a quiet affair no one needs to know about, followed by a few months of pretense, and then an even quicker divorce.

  “But you two might hate each other,” my mom adds unhappily.

  “So what? That’s how most marriages end up anyway.”

  My mother looks totally dismayed and my father hangs his head.

  I stand up. “I guess I’d better arrange a meeting with Ashley Winters and – how did Grandpa put it again? Ah yes – use my natural charm on her.”

  Then I leave the room before anyone has the chance to try and argue with me, or talk me out of my decision. Not that anyone could.

  2

  Finn

  I’ve seen some pictures of Ashley when she was younger. Long, chestnut brown hair, glasses, bad skin, and chubby cheeks. I also had a private investigator do a bit of digging into who she is. He found out she’d turned her back on the corporate world and dedicates herself to running a charity that helps get homeless kids off the streets, but I can’t believe she works here.

  To say the area is run down would be an understatement. I hardly dare to leave the car. Partly, because I’m expecting to be mugged the second I get out, and partly because I suspect my car will be gone when I get back outside.

  Ok, so I’m exaggerating a little bit, but this place has bad vibes written all over it.

  I was expecting… I don’t know… something that at least looked inviting. The place is anything but inviting. It’s a one story building nestled between a grubby looking greasy spoon and a boarded-up newsagent. It hardly screams ‘I know how to make money work for the people I’m trying to help.’

  I check the address on the text Andrew sent me one more time, sure I must have the wrong place, despite the faded sign hanging over the entranceway telling me I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. The address checks out, as I knew it would. I sigh to myself and get out of the car. As the car locks engage and the red alarm light flicks on, I look around me warily. I’m trying my best not to be judgmental, but it’s hard when my car is probably worth more than some of the buildings around here.

  Maybe my grandpa wanted me to marry this girl because he felt sorry for her, stuck working in a shithole like this. God, couldn’t he have just left her some money? She could certainly use the money, and my chances of reaching an agreement with her were get
ting better with every passing minute.

  I think it would be easier to get donations if her charity was based somewhere slightly more flashy.

  I imagine my grandpa watching me, laughing at my discomfort, taunting me from beyond the grave. The thought of him enjoying my discomfort forces me inside the building.

  The lobby is tiny, but thank God, it’s nicer inside the building than outside. Everything still screams cheap though. The chairs for visitors to wait on don’t match each other and the table placed next to the chairs is far too low for the height of the chairs. But I have to admit it also looks scrupulously clean and tidy. Even the floor is shiny. And the air smells of freshly brewed coffee, always a good sign in my book. A large vase of artificial flowers stands at one end of the reception desk.

  Behind the desk is a woman who looks to be in her early twenties, pretty with curly blonde hair and perfectly applied makeup. She’s wearing a tight fitting black polka dot top. She looks up and flashes me a friendly smile.

  I feel a spark of hope. If this girl’s attitude is anything to go by, maybe Ashley will be easier to persuade than I’m thinking. I flash back a smile and move towards the desk. “Hi,” I say. “I’m looking for Ashley Winters.” I wait for the girl to smile again, maybe even blush a little, as she tells me I’ve found her.

  Instead, she nods curtly towards her left. “Down the hallway, third door on your left,” she huffs sourly.