Egotistically Yours by Hayley Faiman

Chapter One

LAURENT

Bethie doesn’t realize it,but I watch as she packs up her desk to move to LoneSTAR Investments. She was one of the first people to put in her request to follow my father on his new venture. I don’t blame her, it’s not like I gave her a reason to stay. In fact, I did everything in my power to make sure she left.

But I stayed behind. It was my choice. At least that’s what I tell myself. This is what I wanted. My mother dangled a carrot and I snatched it up. While it’s been a good decision for me, my mother being taken to prison and all, she ended up handing over the entire company to me before she left.

It’s mine now.

It’s everything I’ve ever wanted. Everything that I selfishly believed I deserved.

I’m in charge and I should be happy. I’ve just gotten everything that I’ve ever wanted handed to me on a silver platter. It’s almost too good to be true.

I’m just over thirty years old and the head of an extremely large investment company, one that my father built from the ground up. I don’t have to do anything but keep it running.

Except.

When my father left, he took all of the best employees and clients with him. So, while the name is still solid, the client base, the income flow, none of that is. I’m drowning. Completely fucking drowning.

It was smart as fuck, but at the same time, it’s been a goddamn nightmare and I regret ever taking this on.

It’s been months and yet, I’m losing money by the hour. By the fucking hour. I don’t know what to do. I could ask my father, but that would mean admitting that he was right. I’m not ready to run shit. I should admit it to him, try to get some help, but I’m not ready yet. I don’t feel like I’ve hit rock bottom.

I stay at the office from before the sun rises and don’t leave until after it sets, every single day. I’ve been trying to call people, make deals, practically beg anyone who will listen, but nothing works. I’ve been blackballed, and not because my dad is an asshole, but because my mother is a fucking cunt. Astor Investments has been blackballed.

“Mr. Astor?” my secretary asks, her voice trembling.

I think that she’s fucking scared of me. I don’t know why though. I can’t figure it out. I haven’t done or said shit. Granted, I’m a bit moodier than I ever have been, but if she knew the constant enormous amount of pressure I was under then she would understand.

“Zara,” I say, dipping my chin.

She is chewing on her bottom lip, her gaze flicking from the floor to mine a couple times before she speaks.

“I was wondering if I could take tomorrow off?”

Honestly, I don’t even know what she does here anymore aside from answer phones. It’s not like I have any fucking work coming in for her to sift through. I tell her to go ahead, but she doesn’t walk away or anything, she just stays in her place.

“Zara?”

She jumps at the sound of my voice and her gaze meets mine. “I just, your father called and said that he would be coming by this afternoon. I wanted to let you know. There wasn’t anything on your calendar ...”

Of course, there wasn’t. I don’t have any clients or potential clients, so therefore I have nobody to meet with. Nodding my head, I tell her thank you. She turns and walks away from me. I watch as she closes the door, then I let out a heavy sigh.

My phone dings with a text notification and I touch the screen to see who is contacting me. It’s Paulette. She’s a French model that I met a few months ago before my life went completely south. The last woman I slept with, other than a farewell screw against the copy room door with Bethie.

Bethie.

Fuck me.

Bethanie Clark.

I miss her. I truly fucked that up with her. I imagine that if I had kept her, if I hadn't pushed her away and treated her the way that I did, she’d be at my side right now, helping me deal with this shit. With the mess that I’ve allowed to become my life.

My phone buzzes again with a second text and I look down at the model’s two incoming text messages. I’m such a dick and saved her name as MODEL in my phone, mainly so I wouldn’t forget who she was.

PAULETTE *MODEL*: Bonjour, Laurent.

PAULETTE *MODEL*: I will be in Dallas tomorrow for one evening. Would you like to have drinks?

I should say no. I should stay here at the office and try to figure something out. There is just no way that I can compete with my father or any of the other large investment firms anymore, I need to do something different. Something outside of the box.

But it’s been months since I’ve been laid. I’m a man, after all, I never claimed to be a good one. If there was a competition for the length of time that wild oats needed to be sowed, I would be working my way toward world champion. I’ve been sowing them since I was fifteen—nonstop.

WHERE ARE YOU STAYING?

PAULETTE *MODEL*: Chez, Laurent?

My lips curve up into a grin. An entire night to let off some much-needed steam with a model?

SEE YOU TOMORROW NIGHT. I write, then give her my address.

PAULETTE *MODEL*: Yes, Laurent. I am looking forward to it.

Staring at my phone, I contemplate responding to her, but I don’t. Instead, I turn it over and lean back in my chair. Nice. Paulette is exactly what I need. Not only will she get Bethie off of my mind for a couple days, but she’ll also give me the ability to fucking relax, at least for a few hours.

Leaning forward, I turn on my computer and start to go through the small client list we have, then check to see if anyone has applied for any money, applied for anything and it’s all a big fat zero.

Chewing on my bottom lip, I wonder what the fuck I could do to change things up? I can’t continue this way or I’ll have to shut my doors. I'm already running with a skeleton crew. I have a few managers, a few entry level and that’s pretty much it.

The building is my mother’s, but in the contract, I’m able to operate rent free. So, thank fuck there’s no mortgage, but I have to pay my employees and keep the lights on all at the same time.

Nothing is fucking free and I don’t know how I’m going to make it another few months, money is tight.

I don’t hear him knock, I’m not sure he even does, but what feels like seconds later, my father clears his throat as he sits down across from me.

Lifting my head, I give him a smile. “Hey,” I offer.

He nods his head, his gaze finding mine. I’ve felt a bit of disapproval coming off of him the past few months, but he doesn’t tell me why and I’m too pussy to ask. When it comes to my dad, I never want to disappoint him, but I know that I have in several different aspects of my life.

“We need to talk.”

“I’m a mess,” I admit. “I’m trying to figure this out, I’m failing.”

Saying it out loud, something that I never wanted to admit, and yet here I am blurting it out almost immediately. My dad doesn’t say anything right away though, instead he watches me for a moment in silence, as if he’s thinking about something heavy.

He nods his head. “You are, in more than one way.”

Lowering my head, I lift my hand and wrap my fingers around the back of my neck, squeezing, then massaging in order to release tension. I’m fucked. I feel it from the inside out. I’m fucking sick over what I’ve allowed to happen to me, what I’ve welcomed.

“I’m proud of you for taking this on. I know that the way I left didn't do you any favors. But if you don’t start to take control of this company, you’re going to go BK.”

Pinching my eyes closed, I take in a deep breath before I lift my head and look across my desk into my father’s eyes.

“I know,” I say. “I’m lost. I thought that I could do this, that everything was just going to fall into place, but it’s not.”

My dad nods his head as if he understands what I’m saying, but I’m not sure he really does. Astor Investments wasn’t blackballed when he started. He didn’t have the obstacles that I do. I know it sounds full of excuses, but I’m so fucked.

“I was thinking of trying to find a niche. Broad, large-scale investment banking just isn’t going to happen with me, with this company,” I say.

“There he is,” my dad mutters.

“What?”

He smiles. “Laurent Astor, that’s all. You are more than the playboy you pretend to be. You’re smart and capable. Your life has been this company and I know without a doubt you will find your place.”

“I’m not much more than the playboy,” I say with a chuckle as I think about the model that will be making her appearance in my bed soon.

He hums, standing to his feet. “Oil, Laurent. You have many a friend from college in that industry. That’s where you need to be looking. Natural resource investments. That is my professional and my fatherly advice.”

“How is the baby?” I ask, thinking of my father’s new wife, who is pregnant and due soon.

He smiles, his face lighting up, and I shake my head. He’s so fucking happy these days. I should be pissed his wife is younger than I am. He adopted her toddler and he knocked her up, no doubt taking away some of my inheritance, but I’m not. He’s happy and that is all that matters in this life—happiness.

Though I don’t always take my own advice on that.

“She’ll be here soon, nursery is ready. Holden is beyond excited to be a big brother, even though he has no idea what that is or what it means.”

I smirk. Being the big brother of my two siblings, I know exactly what it means. “He’ll love it, until he doesn’t, then eventually he’ll love it again.”

“Sunday?” my dad asks.

We have Sunday family dinner and I know that’s what he’s asking me about. “I’ll be there, you know that I will.”

He smiles and stands. “I hope I’ve helped. If you need any contacts, I may have a few.”

“But you want me to do this on my own.”

He shakes his head once, his gaze finding mine. “I want you to succeed. But you need to do this on your own. It has nothing to do with me.”

I nod my head, clearing my throat, knowing that he is absolutely correct. I do need to do this. I need to prove not only to him, but mostly to myself that I can succeed. I have wanted this my whole life and my mother threw it at me when she was locked up, so now it’s make or break time. I refuse to fucking break.

With a renewed energy, I start scrolling through my phone and make some appointments with some old college friends. I will get this shit rolling. I will do what my father knows and what I know that I can do.

I will be the best.

BETHANIE

I placemy hand on my rounded belly and bend over slightly. It’s a contraction. I know the feeling well, but I’m not convinced that it’s time, yet. I pick up the phone to call my mom. She only lives a few hours away from me, but I don’t want to scare her or send out a false alarm.

Baby.

I can’t believe that I’m having a baby.

Unable to sit any longer, I stand and start to walk around the house. I have been off of work the past week in anticipation of this baby’s arrival. I wanted to work until my due date, but the doctor wouldn’t let me.

So here I am, walking through my house and waiting for this little boy to arrive.

Pressing my lips together, I try not to cry for the millionth time. I’ve got myself in a situation and there is no way to get out of it. I’ve waited too long to tell the father. Now, I feel like I can’t.

What do I do? Do I run over to Astor Investments and say, oh Laurent, I’m sorry, but I knew I was pregnant when I quit. I didn’t know how to tell you. Surprise, Daddy.

God, I’m the biggest kind of bitch.

Guilt consumes me.

All of me.

I can’t even tell my best friend who the father is, although I have a feeling that she already knows and so does Landry, this baby’s grandfather. And what kind of friend am I, really? I’m keeping this baby not only from his father, but from the rest of his family too. I know them all, I’ve met them all, and I’m friends with them.

My phone rings and I waddle over to it. Picking it up, I press my lips together as a whole new wave of guilt consumes me all over again.

“Hey, Tenny,” I murmur as my greeting.

“Hey, I’m going through Holden’s baby things. I honestly don’t have much, but I have some onesies and things you may want. Do you want me to bring them by?”

God.

I can’t believe I’m hiding this from her and she’s being so damn nice. I really hate myself, but I’m not strong enough to just say it. I need to just blurt it all out.

“Sure,” I squeak. “That would be really nice. You don’t have to. I know that you probably want to keep them in case you have another boy again later.”

She hums. “Even if I do, it won’t be for at least a year, maybe two. This stuff is just sitting here collecting dust. I’ll be by in a few,” she says chirpily before she ends the call.

I clutch my side when a wave of pressure slides across my belly and into my back. Maybe this is finally the real deal? Picking up my phone, I look at the clock. I need to time these, then I need to call my mom. She will freak out if I don’t call her before heading to the hospital.

Pacing the living room of my small apartment, my stomach squeezes again and I whimper with the intense pain. Three minutes exactly. Fuck. Walking around some more, I try to breathe through the pain.

Then I get another one.

Two and a half minutes.

I send a text to my mom telling her that it’s time just as there is a knock on my door. Slowly, I make my way over to the door and tug it open, gripping the knob with everything that I have. Lifting my head, I look up into Tennessee’s eyes.

“Oh god, it’s time, isn’t it?”

Nodding my head, she waddles past me, her own due date barreling forward. She sets down the bags she had in her hands and wraps her arm around my back for support.

“Just breathe, slowly in, slowly out,” she says softly, soothingly.

I do what she says and I feel better as the contraction passes. Tennessee helps me gather my things, then she insists on driving me to the hospital, no matter how many times that I tell her I can just get a car.

“Nope,” Tenny snaps. “No friend of mine takes some stranger’s car to deliver a baby, not when I’m right here.”

Breathing through the painful contractions, I hear her in the background calling Landry and that guilt, it consumes me all over again. I have a feeling that it will never go away, not as long as I keep this secret.

When we arrive at the hospital, I decide that I need to tell her who this baby belongs to. After I give the front desk my name, they have me wait in the lobby until someone can come out to get me and take me to my room.

Turning to Tennessee, I open my mouth to tell her everything when a contraction causes me to double over in pain, then I feel wetness slide down my legs.

“Your water broke, holy shit,” she gasps. Then she’s gone and I don’t get a moment to breathe, let alone talk to her again.

The rest of the afternoon and night are a complete blur. That is until Tucker Laurent Clark comes screaming into the world. Then it is as if everything around me just comes to a standstill. This little creature appears, red and screaming. He’s absolutely perfect.

I look down at him and my world feels whole.