Page 12 of Until We Burn
“—Your siblings have a claim to it, and they can take it from right under you.”
A deep voice drawls. Gregory snatches the glass of whiskey out of my hand as he saunters in behind me. The faint smell of cigar smoke and perfume trails in his wake. My older brother throws himself into the armchair across from Sophia’s. The collar of his white silk dress shirt slinks apart. I roll my eyes at the lipstick stain smearing his belt buckle.
Before I can verbally eviscerate him, my fraternal twin brother Jonathan strides into the war room.
“Everybody, quiet down and listen closely because I won’t be repeating myself on what needs to happen tonight.”
He straightens the cuffs on his pristine black suit, looking like the picture of ego and power. His hair is coiffed back, shiny and dark, like the eyes barely acknowledging us. Jonathan positions himself in front of the fireplace and checks the time on the mantel clock.
I cross my arms. “And exactly who put you in charge tonight?”
“Oh?” Jonathan arches his brow and smiles at me with mock modesty. “I’m sorry, Diana. Did you want to take the lead? I’m sure bàbatold you what we need to know for tonight's partnership dinner.”
My nails dig into the armrest. Jonathan cocks his head. I’m not rattled that bàba told Jonathan everything. This is just another one of his tactics: He’ll give one of us key details that we can share or keep to ourselves before an event. It’s done at random, but his reasoning is methodical. Knowing that one of us possesses information that you don’t pushes you to work harder and do what you need to do to get ahead of the others.
Tonight, Jonathan has the upper hand.
My jaw clenches. He smirks as I begrudgingly settle back into my chair.
Jonathan smooths down his lapel and clears his throat. “For the last several weeks, bàbahas been negotiating with the CEOs of Decibel 6 and the Pacific Observer. He wants to strike up a new partnership with them to make our news stories available through podcasts and documentaries. Tonight, the CEOs and their business advisors will be coming here to celebrate the new partnership before it’s announced to the media at the end of the week.”
“So?” Gregory shrugs. “What do we have to do?”
Jonathan glares at him for interrupting.“So,bàbawants us all to start familiarizing ourselves with the CEOs and their business advisors this evening. Since one of us will be leading the HMG in the next year, bàbathought it would be best for us to build business relationships with his partners as early as possible. It’ll assure them they’ll still be in good hands even after he resigns.”
Sophia shuts her compact mirror and smiles. “In that case, I’ll be busy talking to Patrick Hertzberg.”
Gregory tosses back the rest of his whiskey and rolls his eyes. “Mèimei,the key motive here is to build business relationships. We don’t need you whoring yourself to keep our partners interested.”
Sophia’s smile drops. Rage burns in her eyes, fierce as the scar that slashes her palm.
I snatch the lace doily off the couch and smack it over Gregory’s belt buckle. “Stop projecting, Gregory. It’s beneath you.”
He scrambles up to wipe the lipstick stains away.
Sophia shrinks into her chair, crossing her arms. “I hope you have one for his mouth,” she mutters.
My gaze softens on her. “Patrick has done stories on arts and culture just like you. He’d be a good fit to talk to.”
“I know what I need to do,” Sophia snaps. “You don’t have to coddle me.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Sophia, I’m just trying to help you.”
“And I don’t remember asking for your help.”
“God forbid we support each other in the succession plan.”
Gregory scoffs, tossing the doily aside. “In case you forgot, there’s only one person who can secure the position, Diana. Take your sappy morals elsewhere.”
My hands curl into fists. “And that leaves us with what, Gregory? Disrespect and resentment? If those are the qualities you want to lead with, the HMG is better off without you.”
“Watch your fucking mouth,” he snarls.
“You might want to watch yours instead,” I hiss. “There’s still lipstick stains on your belt.”
“At least I know how to build lucrative connections,” Gregory sneers. “After all, I’ve learnt from the best.”
The front door on the main floor suddenly swings open. “Welcome home, President Huang!”
