Chapter 1 - Richard Ashford

Richard POV

“Richard, you have your mother on line two,” I hear Esther say through the intercom. I sit back in my chair, lifting the phone from its stand and pressing line two. I have to prepare myself for this mentally. 

“Mother,” I can hear the back noise. I can tell she is not home, but that woman is so productive during the day that she would have to be sick to be home, almost dying. I have never seen her just staying at home. She is always out, full of appointments and commitments. She could easily be busier than the first lady. 

“Ricky, I am near your office today for a meeting. Join me for lunch”, she says straight away, and I roll my eyes, looking at my watch. It’s only nine in the morning. As much as I would like to say no to her, I wouldn’t dare. The woman is a bloody saint, and it doesn’t really hurt to have lunch with her. The only thing she tends to do is pry into my love life. Or better saying my non existing love life. 

"I'm having Esther arrange a table at your favorite place," I said, and I heard a giggle.

“Lovely darling, I will see you there at one, don’t be late,” she says, and I can’t help but roll my eyes, sitting straight in my chair. 

“When have I ever been a late mother?” I ask, but too late because she is already chatting with someone about one of the many charities she is involved in. My mother is one of the most productive people I have ever met, and my father says I am just like her, focused, and I can't relax until I sort everything around me. 

I put the phone down, pressing the buzzer to call Esther in. A few seconds later, she opens the door, striding into my office. 

“What can I do for you?” she asks as she opens her notepad and looks at me. I point at the chair in front of me, and she sits as she watches me through the thick lenses. Her glasses are old and thick. Geez, Esther is old. She will be retiring soon and is trying to find her replacement. I took over the company’s CEO from my father, and I inherited Esther from the company. 

I don’t know what I would’ve done without her when I first started eleven years ago. I was only twenty-five when I took over, and Esther ensured I knew what I was doing. After all, she was my father’s secretary for the past thirty years before me. She knows the job better than I do. 

“How’re the interviews going?” I ask as I sit back in my chair, smiling, watching her relax on her chair. 

“Oh dear, there are some good ones. There’s this one girl that is absolutely perfect, but I think she will be taking a job at the Times,” she says, and I frown, looking at her. If she is that good, we can’t have that happening, right?

“Offer her more money if you think she will be the perfect candidate. Make sure to do whatever it takes to get her in”, I say, and she smiles softly as she writes on her notepad. I can’t just have some stupid and underqualified person as my secretary and personal assistant. I have filled my life with too many commitments and complexity. Someone that can keep up is what I need.

“I need you to book lunch for one at my mum’s favorite restaurant,” I say, and Esther smiles as she looks back down at her notepad. I really need someone a little more connected to technology. Someone that isn’t averse to it would be doing everything straight away on an iPad and having most of the tasks done before even getting back on their desk.

“How is she?” Esther asks, and I smile back at her.

“I assume she is fine; otherwise, she would be barging in through those doors, “I say, and Esther nods in agreement. 

“Your brother wants to see you,” she says, and I nod before she stands up, losing her balance. I stand up, immediately walking around my desk to give her a hand. Her hand immediately holds onto my arm as she pulls herself up.

“Are you okay?” I ask, and she nods, placing one hand on my cheek and smiling. I wouldn’t allow anyone else to behave like this with me, but Esther is unique. 

“I am fine,” she replies before leaving the office. I grew up watching Esther help my father with everything he ever needed here. She used to keep crayons on her desk for when we came here with my mom, and the woman was like a second mother to us.

I grab my phone and my jacket from the back of my chair. Before throwing my jacket back on, I pull my sleeves down and do the buttons. I walk out of the office to see Dylan. What the hell does he need me for that? He refused to walk into my office. 

“Richard, Dylan is on a phone call,” his secretary says as I approach his office. I always forget her name and try to scramble around to find it, but I can’t. I know it starts with a T. Tina. Tara? Fuck that, and I don’t know. I nod, but I open the door and walk into his office.

He is standing with his back turned to the door with a hand on the glass supporting his body. He pulled his shirt out of his trousers and the sleeves up to his elbows. I can see a set of knees between his open legs, and I shake my head. My brother is getting sucked at work, so I stop walking and smirk. I clear my throat, catching both of their attention. Dylan’s head turns around, and when he sees me, the girl on her knees stands up, clearing both sides of her mouth. She strides out of the office, but she can’t help herself but wink at me while she walks past. Gross. 

“Classy,” I say as soon as the door closes behind me, and Dylan is sitting on his chair behind his desk. 

“No fun leaving me with blue balls.” He says, and I can’t help but laugh. Tough luck, buttercup.

“This is a workplace, not a fuck room for you to fuck everything that moves while you should be fucking working,” I say, and he offers me his biggest smile. 

“Yeah yeah, okay, now look, I need your help at the meeting tomorrow,” he says, and I frown as he offers me the papers that were in front of him in a folder. 

Dylan is responsible for the advertising department of the company. He deals with every request to advertise in our newspapers and magazines, and we are now the biggest in the world. 

“Pamela again?” I ask as I rub my chin. I hate that woman, and she has the power to drive me insane. No wonder we ended up getting divorced only two years after we got married. 

“What can I say? She always pays on time, but these meetings are always so painful”, Dylan says as he rests his feet on the edge of his desk, leaning back on his chair and offering me a smile. I stand up, walking to the bar that Dylan is proud to have in the corner of his office. 

“A bit early for a drink, isn’t it?” he asks, frowning, and I shake my head. 

“It’s five o’clock somewhere in the world,” I let out, pouring myself a glass of whiskey when his door bursts open with Mia walking in.

“Dylan, I fucked up. I need your help”, she says, striding to the chair in front of him while he goes wide-eyed and tries to signal her to shut up. I clear my throat, and my daughter’s panicked eyes meet mine.

“Shit,” she curses under her breath.