Free The Heir & I: Precarious Passions by Lara Hunter Page A

father’s position as chief executive officer of this company,” he informed me, tone low and official. “And with that in mind, we would like to ask you to step down from any and all positions of leadership here at Clark Industries.”
     
    I sat back hard in my chair, saying nothing at first as the room seemed to whirl around me. My mind did little to grasp or accept the words I’d just heard and when I finally sat forward all I could say was, “Yeah, right. You have got to be kiddin’ me.”
     
    Vic blinked.
     
    “I assure you, Son,” he told me, folding his hands before him. “We would never joke with you about something like this…”
     
    I had heard enough.
     
    “I’m not your son!” I thundered, bringing my fist down hard on the table before me. “I’m the son of Harry Clark, the man who founded this company. How would he feel if he knew that you were trying to cast his only son out of his job at the corporation he worked so hard to build—and, for that matter, within days of his death?”
     
    Vic sighed.
     
    “Your father worked hard, it’s true,” he allowed, adding as he looked me straight in the eyes, “Yet he himself said, and on several occasions, that you did not follow his lead. He himself told me in confidence that he was not pleased with your job performance—and, furthermore, that he feared for the future of his company. To put it bluntly, he said that if you weren’t his son, he would have fired you several times over—and that he might still have to do so, to protect the future success of Clark Industries.”
     
    I gulped hard; shutting my eyes tight for just a moment as I considered these cutting words.
     
    “May I ask when you had these conversations?” I inquired finally, my eyes fluttering open to meet Vic’s gaze, hard and in full. “I mean, I know that I had a pretty rough start as vice CEO—but I was so young when I took the job. And for the last few months, my father has done nothing but praise the improvement in my performance.”
     
    Victor nodded.
     
    “In the last year or so, you have indeed improved. And we are proud of you in that respect,” he affirmed, adding quickly, “Yet in the years beforehand—the time that you should have spent working hard, taking classes and learning your craft and the particulars of the business world—you went partying and idling about instead, depending on your father and your executive assistant to do the bulk of your work for you. What you’ve been doing in the past year, my good man, is trying to catch up—and while your performance has advanced from poor to satisfactory in quality, we expect more and better from the executive groomed to replace Harry Clark—who, I’m sure you will agree, was the best.”
     
    I shook my head.
     
    “Idling about. Satisfactory performance. My good man. I didn’t think folks actually talked that way in real life. You’ve been watching altogether too many episodes of Downton Abbey,” I sneered, rolling my eyes heavenward. “Could it be, my good man , that you want this job yourself?”
     
    Victor shook his head.
     
    “I, Mr. Clark, am set to retire next month—so perhaps I can catch even more episodes of Downton Abbey,” he smiled, but only briefly. “And we as a board would like you to enjoy an early retirement as well—which we’re sure you could more than afford, if you sell your father’s company.” He paused here, adding as he pinned me with an assessing gaze, “You might hate me right now, Oliver. You may think I’m awful, even cruel. But ask yourself one question. Am I right?”
     
    I looked at him a long moment, then did little more than shrug.
     
    “At this point,” I admitted. “I’m sure of nothing. Perhaps you are right—perhaps I don’t have the skill or the experience to take my father’s reins at this company. I thought I’d have more time to catch up, as you put it. What I do have, though, is a strong desire to make my father proud of me.