2 - Wondering what went wrong

LIAM

"Mr. Davies?" my PA's voice sounds through the intercom on my desk. "Your brother is calling and would like to talk to you."

With a deep sigh, I lay aside the pen and shove away the folder with this quarter's estimated numbers. "Thanks, Nancy. Put him through." I pick up the phone when it rings a moment later. "Henry, hey," I greet my brother.

"Hi, Liam! How are you?" he asks cheerfully.

"Damn, Henry, easy with the enthusiasm. Why are you so overly excited this early on a Monday morning?" I look at the time. It's 8 AM here in L.A., which means it's already 11 AM in New York, where my brother is.

"You need to overthink your morning routine," he says with a laugh. "With the way my day starts, I can't be anything but enthusiastic."

When it dawns on me what he's getting at, I groan. "No, please don't tell me. I don't want to hear about your morning sex again."

Henry laughs. "That was one time, Liam. One time. It's not my fault you keep forgetting to check the time when you call me."

"As it isn't my fault you pick up your phone when you shouldn't," I grumble.

"We both know I can't ignore your calls. It might be important."

"Does Lauren know you consider work more important than her?" I retort.

Henry snorts. "Damn, Liam, what crawled up your ass and died?"

I take a deep breath and rub my forehead. "Sorry, I was just going over the recent numbers."

"So?"

"They are shit."

"Did we both get the same numbers? Because mine say we did well."

"We could have done better," I say with a deep sigh. I already suspected my brother wouldn't agree.

"Geez, Liam. Relax. Do I have to send you off on another vacation?"

I bite my lips and press my fist to my mouth. I almost forgot how annoying my brother could be. I know he means well, but sometimes, he's a little too relaxed for my liking. That only shows that Henry's decision not to follow in our dad's footsteps was the most sensible one. Once our father is finally ready to retire, I will be CEO of Davies Inc., the market leader in sports gear.

This company will be mine, and that comes with a lot of pressure and expectations. Henry works and will continue working in the main office in New York, but no one expects much from him anymore, which is why he is more relaxed than me most times.

"Why are you calling me exactly?" I ask with another heavy sigh.

"Are you coming home next week? As you know, it's Paul's birthday," he reminds me. "If you want to, you can come along. Two weeks after is his bachelor party before he gets married at the end of April."

Paul is one of Henry's best friends. Together with Jack, the three of them play in a band. They're outstanding and already made quite a name for themselves. That's another thing that sets us apart from each other: Henry makes a lot of time for other things. Don't get me wrong, he's good at what he does; he's just not as ambitious as I am.

While he has another career going, I don't even have time for anything that resembles a private life. And now he's also starting a family with his fiancée, Lauren. They just set the date for late August.

"Why is everyone getting married?" I groan.

Henry laughs. "Because we're adults, and that's what adults do sometimes. I know your one and only true love is work, but not everyone is like that."

"Yeah, I get it," I huff. "Now that Lauren is finally willing to tie the knot, you're a family man."

"That's what I always wanted. You know I never strived to be CEO; that's your fate."

I let out a long breath. "Yeah, you're right. I'm glad Dad finally stopped bitching about it. I still don't get why it took him so long to accept the fact that you didn't want the position."

"Because he's a man of tradition. As the firstborn, taking over the company would have rightfully been my job."

"I guess." I run my hand over my face, letting out another long breath. Even though it's been almost two years since my brother expressed he didn't want to be the next CEO, our father still makes me feel like I have to prove myself. "Anyways," I continue. "To answer your question: yes, I'll come home next week. And as Dad has a few more things to teach me, I'll be staying two or three weeks."

"That's awesome," Henry cheers. "It's been way too long since we've spent some time together. Oh, and before I forget: Paul wants you to call him. Something about my bachelor party," he mumbles.

I laugh. Finally, my mood lightens. "Ah, yes. I have so many ideas already. Your bachelor party will be epic."

"Oh, please," Henry groans. "Don't. Just don't."

"Don't what?"

"Just call Paul and let him talk some sense into you. I know the stupid ideas you have every once in a while."

I laugh a little louder. "Okay, okay. Don't worry. I will call Paul."

"Thank you. Well, I gotta go, Lauren's calling. Send me your flight details as soon as you know."

"Will do. Bye, Henry. Say hi to Lauren."

"Sure. Bye. See you next week."

After ending the call, I lean back in my chair with a frown. When Henry mentioned the word vacation, that heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach reappeared. Ever since I came back from Florida, I've been continuously checking my phone for a call or even just a text from the woman who knocked me off my feet.

Even after two weeks, I still catch myself thinking about Jo and the great evening we had. I know she didn't read much into the fact that I knocked on her door of all doors, but I'd like to think it was meant to be. We got along so well, and I can't remember the last time I felt so comfortable with a person I just met.

There was something intriguing about her—how her crystal blue eyes shone in contrast to her ebony black hair. And she had the most gorgeous smile. But the pull I felt toward her wasn't solely physical, and I actually thought she felt the same, so I wonder why she never called. I guess I'll never find out because I was stupid and didn't ask for her number too. I was so confident she'd call that the thought didn't cross my mind. Serves me right.

But then I remember she lives on the other side of the country and that I don't have time to pursue anything that comes close to a relationship anyway. So maybe it wasn't meant to be after all.

---

Just before noon, I return to my office after a meeting with potential new business partners. Luckily, the negotiations went well, so I can finally stop mulling over the numbers that gave me a headache this morning.

With a deep sigh, I drop down on my chair behind my desk and go through the mail that Nancy handed me on my way in. Just as I go over the first letter, my cell phone rings. When I see who the caller is, I pick it up with a frown, and before I answer, I take a deep breath. "Hey, Dad."

"Liam," my father greets me. "Did you get the numbers?"

As usual, he doesn't beat around the bush. "Yes, Dad," I respond with a small sigh. "And I know they could be better."

"You're right. But we will talk about that some other time; I have a meeting in a minute. I wanted to let you know you need to be in New York by Monday night. Judith Moore called to tell me she needed to see me. She's leaving Tuesday morning for some family-related thing, and I'll be in Boston until Tuesday afternoon, so you will meet her for dinner."

Squeezing my eyes shut, I do my best to hold back a groan. Judith Moore is our company's lawyer. The contract Davies Inc. has with her law firm needs some adjustments, so this won't be a casual business dinner but—knowing Judith—tough negotiating.

"Why can't Henry meet with her?" I already know the answer to this, but I have to try because I have plans for Monday night that I'd hate to cancel.

"Because you want to be this company's next CEO," is the only explanation I get. "Give my PA your flight details so I know when to send our driver to pick you up."

"That won't be necessary. I'll ask Henry."

He lets out a long breath. "Okay, then. I'll email you the details about the new contract. Don't give Judith an inch."

I grimace and rub my forehead, trying to get rid of the deep frown. "I know, Dad. I can handle it."

"Good. I'll see you on Tuesday. And call your mother."

Luckily, we're on the phone so I can freely roll my eyes. I wish he'd treat me like the twenty-nine-year-old I am and not like a teenager.

After reassuring him that I will call my mom, we hang up. I massage my stiff neck, telling myself not to let him get to me. My dad has always been like this—more of a tough businessman toward his children rather than a loving father. I don't blame Henry at all for refusing the position as CEO; he had to endure much worse from him. Our dad did soften up a bit after he had a massive fight with Henry a couple of years ago. He didn't approve of Henry's relationship with Lauren, and that was the last straw for my brother. He expressed clearly and vehemently that he would quit his job if Dad wouldn't let him live his life—and that he didn't want the position as the next CEO.

So here I am, on the receiving end of our father's lectures, teaching me the ways of the business world. But it's okay; I can endure it. Or so I keep telling myself. Once I'm CEO, I will do a lot of things differently, but my father doesn't have to know that.

With a deep breath, I grab the letter I was reading. When I do, my gaze falls on my phone, and I notice a missed call from earlier this morning. I look at the number but don't recognize it. But they left a message.

"Hi, um," a female voice says. "This is Amelia Hamilton. Your colleague said to call you concerning the place cards and menus. Could you give me a call back? That'd be great. Thanks."

She laughs softly before the message ends, and that's what sends a sudden shiver down my spine. I know that laugh. Or have I lost my mind completely? Her voice sounds so familiar, too.

I listen to the message again—and again.

No, this can't be the woman who occupied my mind for the past two weeks—she said her name was Amelia. I scrub my hand over my face and shake my head. Now that I start imagining Jo's voice on a random call, I know I have to get her out of my head—fast.

I send a text to the unknown caller:

'I'm sorry, but you got the wrong number.'

This has to stop. After sending the text, I delete the voicemail so I'm not tempted to listen to it again, and I delete the number right along with it. I need to get over this, and I know exactly who I have to call to help me with that.

I dial her number, and she picks up after the first ring. "Yes?"

"Hey, Nadia. Are you free tonight? I need to see you."