Chapter 3

Nick smiled at the news of the stock market in his hands. Stock prices for BirdF had risen considerably, and he was looking forward to meeting prospective inspectors like Tanaseda from Beijing and Nicholas from Minsk. The thought of expanding the BirdF media franchise made his heart giddy with happiness.

He swung back on his chair, taking a look at the people who thronged on the streets and sidewalks through the glass panes behind him. A clash of color and races and culture on the streets of Manhattan intrigued him all the time. How a lot of people could manage to live in such a small borough never ceased to amaze Nick. It was the sheer mass of people that led him to start BirdF there in the heart of Manhattan.

Savoring the heady scent of citrus and spearmint that came from the diffuser, he took a quick breath and made a mental note of the schedules he had for the day. Although he knew that his personal assistant, Wayne, would sort out his appointments, he always kept them in his head, propelling him through each day like a turbine.

He had an appointment with the dentist at midday and a trip to Staten Island to check how the work was going at one of the other headquarters by two p.m. Then he had to make a quick stop to check on new projects before the turnaround to Manhattan, a meditation session and a whole lot of other projects.

He was glad that he was busy every day except the weekends. It didn’t give him time to reflect on the bad decisions he had made through the years. Tough calls that didn’t make him a better person, his father’s harsh voice ringing in his ears. The strive to be better than everyone fueled Nick to move forward.

Being the first child and a son comes with a lot of responsibilities that he had not been ready to bear at the time. But he had no choice. His father, Edward Jones, was one of the wealthiest people in the United States.

When Nick was younger, all he wanted was to retire to the countryside and build a family. But his father would never settle for mediocrity. He wanted the best for his sons—that Nick could understand—but he had taught them to take the top by force and the world by storm.

Nick took a deep breath of the citrus and mint-scented air, grateful that, for once, his father was not breathing down his neck. Edward Jones had retired to the chateau on Long Island, taking all of his work from the comfort of his house. Nick desperately wanted some rest, to close his eyes and know that his job was being done perfectly. But his father’s words sailed through his body, forcing him awake every time.

Running his hand through his sandy-colored hair, he closed his eyes for a second. He knew that before long, he would be driven all around New York, not taking time off except during the meditation exercises he had signed up for discreetly. As he absorbed the thoughts of work, his mind wandered like a traveler, seeking the wonders of the far ends of the earth.

The thoughts of the young woman Nick had seen at the cafe earlier in the day crossed his mind. She had hit him with the force of a gale, crashing through his thoughts. All his life, he had been trained to believe that women had certain things they were supposed to say and things not to.

It was a blow to the gut when he heard the young lady cuss. Even in the present day, rallies and protests were being held to uphold women’s rights. Not that he didn’t think women had rights, but there was this understanding of the world that he had been brought up in. His mother was never allowed to speak at family meetings. Instead, she watched in silence with wise brown eyes, absorbing every piece of information like a sponge. In reality, all she had to do was sit like a pretty doll.

His father usually said that he was a spitting image of his mother, and he knew that in his heart. She had the same sand-colored hair as his. Long, beautiful tresses that fell in waves across her back. The small spray of freckles on her nose bridge, her slanted eyes that held nothing but love towards her family.

When she passed away from breast cancer, Nick had been heartbroken. He had come back from boarding school one summer to see that his mother was no more. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. He started to allow the women around him to speak up, but some part of him was still bathed in his father’s ancient teachings.

Nick had never been so enthralled by a woman in his life. Bright green eyes like spearmint leaves, the very air he breathed in. To him, women had never been a priority. He was not allowed to have his way with things like his younger brother, Mike.

Their father had lessened his hold when raising Mike, allowing him to do almost anything he wanted. When they were younger, he thought he wasn’t fair, but the more thought he gave to it, he knew that their father had taught him in the best way he could.

Never to settle for less.

Blond hair that looked like spun gold wreathed her head and framed her slender face. In totality, she was more beautiful than anyone Nick had set his eyes on. And yet, she looked so ordinary. Woolen beige sweater and a flower-patterned gown that was in great contrast with the set of three-piece Italian suits in his wardrobe. But that was what attracted him to her.

The fact that she could voice out her opinions without backing down or caring about who she was talking to, the way she carried herself, and the softness of her voice as she thanked him before leaving. The events at the cafe played over and over again in Nick’s mind, and he laughed every time he got to the part where her sweater had gotten stuck on a piece of splintered wood.

The office telephone bu**ed, tearing through Nick’s thoughts like a hot knife on butter. Images of the woman he had seen floated away like a warm summer breeze, bringing him back to the glass and concrete confines of his office.

“Hello, sir,” the receptionist’s shrill voice rang from the receiver.

“Is there a problem?” Nick asked, and he heard the receptionist swallow.

“Of course not, sir. Your brother’s here,” she replied quickly and hung up before Nick could say anything else.

Nick had always known that he was intimidating. He was a little above six feet, and he worked out regularly in the gym at the back of the garage. He knew that his voice scared some of his workers, and he didn’t know why or even bothered to ask. A part of him knew that it was because he didn’t talk frequently that made them jump whenever they heard him talk.

“Hey, bro,” said Mike as he waltzed into Nick’s office. He looked like he had come out of a tornado. His matted black hair was askew in all directions, like he was crazy. Maybe all that work at his publishing house in Ohio had made him crazy. But knowing his younger brother, he didn’t come all the way from Ohio.

“Hey,” Nick replied curtly, pretending to be invested in the laptop in front of him.

Mike coming to see him was never a good sign. Whenever he came, it always ended in a lot of frivolities that Nick didn’t have an interest in. For all he knew, his brother was an adrenaline j*****. Mike probably loved the rush that came with crazy, near-death experiences that left him breathless. But Nick had never craved that life. All he wanted was some peace and quiet, watching the sunrise and jumping from an airplane.

Nick still remembered the time that Mike had tricked him into bungee jumping. It had been arduous, with lots of deep growls, some screams, and lots of retching. He had lost all the potatoes he had for breakfast. Mike always came to Manhattan with some sort of adventure, and who could blame him? His brother was a thrill seeker.