Read Online Tessa Ever After by Brighton Walsh - Free Book Online

sets his pen down, then he leans back in his chair, both arms braced on the armrests as he smooths his tie down the front of his shirt while he’s appraising me. “You want to resuscitate a nonprofit company I shut down no more than three years ago.”
    “Yes.”
    He laughs then, a sound I can’t remember hearing in a long while, and shakes his head. “No.”
    Just like that. No. He doesn’t ask me why I want to start it back up, doesn’t let me tell him that doing so would give me a purpose, allow me to swallow all the shit he’s done to this company because it would mean that I’m able to give back in some way. It’d mean that I’d be able to give life to the legacy my grandfather left. The legacy my father shit all over.
    He leans forward and rests his forearms on his desk, clasping his hands together as he stares at me. “I know you and your grandfather had grand plans for that. Ever since he started it, that’s all you two would talk about, all you’d spend your time on, even when you were younger. Used to go with him to those build sites and get your hands dirty, doing work we hire people for. You both were weak when it came to doing what needed to be done to get ahead.” Which, to him, means never spending time, much less money, helping those less fortunate than he is. “Unfortunately, you’re the only one bearing the Montgomery name who can step up to lead this firm once I retire. I’m not going to let you come in here and take this company your grandfather built but all but pissed away because of that fucking foundation sucking all the profits, and run it into the ground after I’ve finally made something of it. After it’s finally started to see generous revenue. And the group of partners will see to that. They’d never approve it.” He says it with such a smug satisfaction that I have to clench my hands around the arms of the chair so I don’t do something I’m not sure I’d regret. Like wipe that smug satisfaction off his face. With my fists.
    He glances at his watch. “Time’s up. If that’s all . . . ?” He doesn’t wait for me to say anything before he stands and walks over to the door, twisting the handle and pulling it open for me. Body language relaxed, cool smile in place. Showing everyone beyond the closed door just how perfect everything is in our little family of three.
    “Thanks for stopping by. See you for dinner next week,” he says loudly enough for the few other employees in the hall to hear. They offer me the same stiff smiles they did before as I make my exit. I give the receptionist a tight smile and nod when she waves and says good-bye, then I’m down the hall andjamming my finger in the button for the elevator, anxious to get the hell out of here.
    I don’t know why I put myself through this. Why I don’t just tell them to fuck off and do what I want to do. Yeah, I’d be out the money they’re shelling out every month for me to live comfortably. I’d have to move somewhere else, figure out a job really damn quick, but I could. If I had to, I could. I’ve interned every summer for the same graphic and web design company, and I have little doubt they’d hire me on. Probably as something lowly, but at least I’d be able to use my web design and interactive media degree. At least I’d be in the field I want to be in. At least I wouldn’t be working for a shady asshole who cares more about money than anything else in the world.
    I glance over at the wall next to the elevator, an outdated picture of my grandfather hanging there, his kind eyes seeming to stare right at me. And I know why I don’t just tell them to fuck off and go on with my life. Because despite all the shit they’ve put me through, all the hoops I have to jump through to get even an ounce of approval from them, they’re my family—the only one I’ve got, unfortunately. Grandpa’s words—the ones he’d say frequently—ring in my ears as I step into the elevator and push the button