Page 93 of After All This Time

"You don't have to sign it away completely. Just step backwhen you're readyand become silent within the company."

"And when the time comes that I'm not here anymore and someone needs to step in?"

"Then I'll deal with it."

His eyebrows shoot up, genuine surprise crossing his usually impassive face. "You will?"

"Don't cream your pants. I'm not running it. I'm not putting on a fucking suit and joining your corporate circus. But if it all goes to hell, I'll step in and make sure someone competent takes over while I go back to my life."

He narrows his eyes, calculating like he's reviewing a contract. "And you'll sign something to that effect?"

"On one condition."

"What?"

"Amelia gets equal shares."

His face transforms instantly, warmth vanishing like the sun behind storm clouds. "She's never going to run a company, Tobias, and she isn't technically a Sinclair."

"Neither of us will be running it. But if something happens to you and Kayla—let's say you bore each other to death—are you even remotely prepared for that?"

"Of course I am." He bristles, straightening his already perfect tie. "But signing half the company over to her seems excessive."

"She's your stepdaughter, for God's sake. Show a little fucking care for her, would you? Now those are my terms. Take them or leave them."

His jaw tightens, the muscle ticking as he glares at me. For a moment, I think he might refuse, might dig his heels in just to spite me. But then he nods. "Fine. I'll have the papers drawn up."

What I don't tell him is that this isn't about the company at all. This is about binding me and Amelia together, no matter what. Because after what happened upstairs, I need to know that even if it all goes to shit, she'll always be taken care of. Always be connected to me, even if it's just through ink on paper and shares in a company neither of us wants.

Chapter 38

Amelia

The four of us are sitting together at the bar like one big, fake-as-hell, happy family for the first time since Christmas. The last of the guests are gone, and the house is finally quiet. Somehow, David and Tobias are playing nice, though the undercurrent of tension between father and son is palpable.

"What time are you leaving tomorrow?" my mom asks, breaking me out of my thoughts.

"Actually," David says, his tone clipped and businesslike, "I've asked Tobias to stay an extra day. I know it's not usual to handle business on a Sunday, but I'm sure Larry won't mind adjusting his schedule."

"Are you happy to stay one more day?"Tobias asks me.

"I need to get back before Monday. But you should stay if David can switch your flight."

Tobias leans back slightly, his gaze narrowing and pinning me in place.

You know?

I hold his gaze, refusing to flinch, even as my heart pounds hard enough to bruise.

Yeah, I know.

"Missing another day won't kill you, sweetie. It's not like you're working real hours anyway."

Don't react. Don't correct her before kneeing her in her fake boob. Don't throw your drink all over her white dress. Just… don't.

"I'll come back and meet with you and Larry another time," Tobias says, turning his attention to his dad.

Oh, hell no. These two have finally stopped making everyone want to slam their heads against the nearest wall, and I'll be damned if I'm the one who screws it up.

---