Page 125 of Wicked

I make a fast decision, and using the family group chat, I set a meeting for tomorrow.

Tomorrow, I will ask everyone to stall the theme park for a week. We desperately need damage control.

We also need to spin things in the media and try to keep the theme park alive. Either that, or we will all lose the seed money, lose face, and the castle.

I couldn’t care less about the money, I have plenty. I do not want my family losing a dime, and I do not want the family to lose respect within the community or nation. Also, the fucking castle.

The next day,every family member involved in the theme park arrives. I explain my public relations strategy to contain the downside, and I explain we have to distance the castle’s theme park from Raven.

I tell them I don’t want to do it, but her out of character action is forcing me to do what is necessary.

The group listens, and they say little.

The strange part is, they seem just as pissed at me for losing Raven. As they talk loudly and animatedly like passionate Italians sometimes do, I realize they suspect something is off. And that they believe Raven loves Italy.

I agree, but I tell them we need to focus on the primary task, that being to protect the castle above all… Just like our ancestors had to from marauding invaders.

As we finally wrap up the awkward discussion, we rise and head for the door. That’s when the entire family attacks me.

Me!

They argue I chased her off. That I chased off the woman I love… Cared for.

I am close to losing it, and I am close to calling the jet and fucking bailing. The only thing keeping me here is the fact I’m likely the strongest male, and if I don’t hold the line to protect the castle, who the heck will?

As the last of them leaves, it’s obvious. They think I was the one who messed up. As if I wrote the damning travel article. Me, the guy trying to protect the castle walls.

It’s clear my family wants Raven back, and they have questions for her. They do not want blood; they just want to talk.

Heck, I do too, but she is still avoiding all contact and every effort I’ve made.

It’s the last thing I want to do, but I slide into the Ferrari, and I drive to my parents’. Salvaging my relationship with them is likely mature, even if I have to hold my tongue in the process.

After themedia shitstorm,I’m in the corner of all corners. I just want to fly home to NYC and bury my head in my work.

It’s what I do and what I’ve always done. No more family bullshit, and no more women, ever.

As I pull into my parents’ driveway, I ready for an old school passionate Italian discussion.

Do not lose my shit.

Do not lose my shit.

Do not lose my shit.

My father called me yesterday, and it was halfway through the media chaos. Just as Raven rode away. He screamed down the phone, and it was just like he’d done when I was in boarding schools.

He claimed I’d ruined the reputation of this once great family. Heck, maybe I have.

It was messed up timing, as it happened just as Raven charged away on Olive, just when I wanted to race after her on my horse.

I could have charged down the cliff, and if I’d survived, I could have caught her on the beach. There, I could have forced her to stay. Instead, I yelled back at my father on the phone before hanging up, seething below the chopper that circled me and before the cameras that filmed me.

Returning home ashamed reminds me of being called back as a teenager. Thrown out of another elite school for not fitting in. For standing up to bullies. For not conforming.

I feel nervous, and the feeling makes me feel disgusted.

I’ve ruthlessly fought competition in NYC, LA, Paris, and London, and I’ve crushed European fashion companies who went up against me.

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