“What can I say? Your brother is one long, consistent train wreck, but this part is still hearsay.”
“Hearsay,” Grae groaned. He angled his gaze toward the low file cabinet that ran the length of the rear wall when the phone there buzzed. He ignored the sound. “Anybody willing to name names? Names bold enough not to hide behind the gossip, but to defend their words.”
Leo didn’t seem hopeful. “Come on, Grae, nobody wants to brush up against Faro, especially when it could mean getting caught between something with you on the other side of it. Everyone knows what a fierce position that could be,” he muttered, rolling his eyes.
The phone buzzed again. Grae answered, primarily to get thoughts best left alone to venture out of his mind.
Leo took advantage of the break in conversation to enjoy the rest of his drink. He’d finished it off before Grae’s rich rumble of a voice became a veritable rasp as he next addressed the unfortunate soul on the other end of the phone line. When he apologized to the caller, Leo realized he was talking to his assistant, Emily Claude.
“I don’t need to see it, Em. Hold on to it till I get out there, all right?” Grae set the phone to its receiver, studied it for an extended moment. “What do you know about a retreat?” he asked before swiveling his desk chair back to face Leo.
“Somethin’ to do with Faro?” Leo asked.
“No idea.” Grae stood, rounded his desk and went to refill the drink for the man who was more like a brother to him than his own. “Sounds like he’s trying to put together some kind of retreat for the family.”
Leo watched Grae slosh more gin into their stout glasses. Silently, he considered the event. Family retreats and reunions usually had the makings of a lot of unnecessary drama. “Is that it?” He reclaimed the glass Grae handed over. “A retreat made you scare Em that way?”
“He’s already handing out invites to the damn thing.” Grae set aside his drink and went about rolling the sleeves of a navy shirt over wide forearms corded with muscle. “Dropped mine off a few minutes ago. It’s waiting on Em’s desk. Location? Turner Estates and Gardens.”
“Lord.” Leo slumped down into his chair. “Is it confirmed? The place? I just can’t imagine—” Leo paused over speaking Tielle’s name. He knew that wound was still raw, too fresh, even for Graedon to hear without being affected.
Grae needed no additional clarification at any rate. “Em says there’s an asterisk next to the location name designating that it’s ‘subject to change,’ so...”
“You think it will?”
Grae shrugged off Leo’s soft inquiry. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not going anyway.” Out of frustrated habit he fingered the dark curls that covered his head in a halo of glossy black.
Leo didn’t bother disputing the comment. He wondered if Grae heard the doubt in his voice as clearly as he did. “Why do you think he’s organizing a lovefest for the family?” he asked instead.
“Besides the fact that we could really use one?” Grae smirked.
It was relatively true. While a measure of goodwill existed among the various cliques within the Clegg family, overall, there was still a measure of bad blood that could at any time erupt into a smelly mess. Such problems among the Clegg brood had been well covered over the decades, ever since Kenneth Clegg’s advertisements for African-American products and businesses began to appear in national magazines.
Faro and Graedon Clegg’s father had continued to outdo himself. The man’s accomplishments had boosted Clegg Marketing from one plateau to another. Sadly, Ken Clegg’s successes were matched all too greatly by the dramas in his personal life. Most unfortunate was the fact that the greatest portion of that drama originated in his family.
Nevertheless, Ken’s bright spot had been Clegg Marketing—his baby, his brain child. The visionary had even welcomed his family to share in what gave him such joy. The man’s heart was as big and robust as the man had been himself. When he died, family, friends and business rivals alike had all mourned his passing.
Yet when Graedon Clegg assumed the role as CEO of the company, few argued the virtually unarguable; Ken Clegg’s tenacious persona and dogged work ethic tempered by compassion and good humor seemed to have been reborn in his youngest son.
“Maybe Faro’s motivations for this retreat have something to do with your gossip.” Grae finished rolling his sleeves and reached for his drink.
A bark of laughter leaped from Leo’s heavyset frame. “It’s rumored that your brother might be ready to jump a ship he set ablaze and leave a ruined kingdom in your capable hands, and you think he’d throw a party at some ritzy resort to celebrate?”
“The place isn’t a resort,” Grae muttered into his glass before drinking from it. “Do you really think he’d do that ever? Leave? Leave it all to me, besides? ’Cause I sure as hell don’t.”
Leo shook his head.
“There’re often faint orbs of truth in rumors,” Grae said. “Whatever Faro’s doing isn’t being done in preparation for Faro leaving, but for me leaving.”
Leo barked another laugh. “But that’s crazy! He’d be a fool to think anyone would side with him to make that happen.”
That much was also true. At thirty-six, Grae had secured his place at the helm of his family. It wasn’t predestined. Most of the Clegg family had believed they’d had the next great football superstar instead of the next powerhouse ad exec. He was massively built and athletically talented to boot, so it was a logical assumption. Alas, Grae had inherited his father’s business savvy and passion for the ad game, as well.
Regrettably, the prodigy Ken Clegg had found in his youngest son wasn’t a hit with everyone in the Clegg family. Faro wasn’t of a mind to relinquish his birthright to his baby brother, no matter how much natural talent the man had.
It was of little consequence, however, given the fact that the rest of the Clegg family believed that Grae had what it took to make Ken Clegg’s legacy flourish and keep them all on the positive side of wealth for the foreseeable future. When the board of Clegg Marketing unanimously decided to place Grae in the top seat, many thought Faro would be too humiliated to remain— including Grae, who had been as surprised as anyone when his brother had chosen to stay aboard.
Unlike the rest of the family, who figured that Faro had come around to the majority’s way of thinking, Grae had a different feeling entirely regarding his brother’s motives. He believed the man was just biding his time, waiting for Grae to royally screw up or to throw in the towel.
Grae knew that a year ago that day, Faro had almost gotten his wish.
“So what now?” Leo asked. “Are you going to try and find out what he’s up to this time or just wait and let the chips fall where they may?”
“There’s an invitation out there with my name on it.” Grae rolled back one shoulder in a lazy shrug. “Chips will probably fall anyway.”
“And what about that invite?” Leo balanced his emptied glass on the perfect crease of one black trouser leg. “The venue? You gonna put a stop to that?” Leo frowned in a playfully curious manner when Grae responded to his question with a slow smile.
* * *
Tielle was halfway to the midmorning breakfast meeting she had only ten more minutes to get to when she realized she’d forgotten the presentation she’d prepared for the counseling center that was scouting Turner Estates for an upcoming summer retreat. Her brain had been so mushy by the time she’d left the office the day before that she had totally forgotten it. It was what she got for spending such late nights at the office instead of going home like a regular woman.
Her