Edmund
Stupid parties for the rich. I snorted at my own hypocrisy. It's not like I had the right to complain. These parties were part of the reason I was able to build my empire at such a young age. It's just that with time, they've become a pain in the ass.
I relaxed in the car seat and took in the lovely night view of the city of Georgia.
The lights and decorations for the holiday season brightened up the night's mood and if I wasn't such a sucker for composure, I would have told the driver to park the car just so I could dance along the streets.
I almost burst out laughing at the mental image of me dancing on the streets of Georgia. No way. I'd quite literally die, instead of the paparazzi capturing shots of me embarrassing myself.
The car pulled up and immediately, we were swarmed into a sea of reporters and camera flashes. Thus was the life of Georgia's most influential figure—Robert Alistair and Sons.
My father walked into the gala like he owned the building.
Technically, he doesn't. But when you've been in the entertainment industry for over three decades and half the people in the room owe their careers to you, and I mean literally.
I walked beside him, hands in my pockets, jaw tight. Cameras flash the second we step onto the carpet.
My stepbrother, Young Alistair, stays close on my other side, smiling like this is his natural habitat. He's dressed in a tailored black suit that probably cost more than the car I crashed last month.
Correction. One of the cars.
"Smile," my father mutters under his breath. "You look like you're attending a funeral."
"Feels like one," I reply, but I lift my lips anyway when flashes come again.
The gala hall is massive, all glass walls and crystal chandeliers. The sound of music filled the air. This wasn't just any event. Every major group in the entertainment industry was here. CEOs. Producers. Studio heads.
People who can ruin you with a phone call or make you richer with a simple handshake.
My father was already being pulled away by familiar faces.
"Robert Alistair!" someone calls.
"Good to see you," my father says, shaking hands, laughing easily.
Within minutes, I'm forgotten. Which is fine by me to be very honest. Perfect time to grab some liquor.
I slip away from the circle and head straight for the bar. I don't even know what I want to drink. It's been a while since I last took alcohol. As opposed to what the media says about me, I was always conscious about my habits, and that includes alcohol.
"Edmund."
I freeze.
I turn around and see my father standing a few feet away, one hand resting lightly on a man's shoulder.
"Come here," my father says. "There's someone I want you to meet."
I walk back reluctantly, already annoyed.
"Rio Asbourne," my father says, gesturing to the man beside him. "CEO of Luna Entertainment."
The big guys.
Luna Entertainment isn't just successful in the entertainment world, it's like the happening company right now. They don't only follow trends, they create them. They're the only entertainment corporation that comes close in competing with us.
Rio Asbourne looked younger than I expected. Mid-fifties maybe, with sharp eyes and salt-and-pepper hair. He smiled politely when I walked up to them.
"Nice to finally meet you, Edmund," he says. "I've heard quite a bit."
"Likewise," I reply, though I'm not sure that's true.
My father glances around the room. "I don't see Asher anywhere."
Rio's smile doesn't falter. "He couldn't come earlier. But he's already been informed of the new developments."
I frown. "What developments?"
There's a brief pause.
Rio tilts his head slightly, studying me. Then he chuckles. "Oh. I see you haven't told him yet."
My chest tightens. "Told me what?"
My father clears his throat. "Edmund…"
"This partnership," Rio continues smoothly, "is something your father and I have been discussing for months."
"Partnership?" I repeat.
"Yes," Rio says. "A one-year supervisory arrangement. You'll be working closely with my son."
I let out a short laugh. "I think there's been a misunderstanding."
"There hasn't," my father says firmly.
I turned to him. "You're joking."
Before he could answer, the entire room erupted in noisy applause. Someone really important must have shown up.
"He's not."
I look up.
And for a second, my brain completely shuts down.
Asher Asbourne, standing there like he's from a completely different world. Tall. Broad shoulders. Black suit that fits him like it was made with him in mind, which I'm guessing it was. White short hair neatly styled. Sharp jaw. Cold emerald eyes that looked like they had no ability to contain emotions.
My father blinked. "Asher. I'm surprised you're here. I thought you weren't coming."
Asher's gaze flicks to him. "I had a few meetings in town. Figured I could make it here afterwards."
Rio smiles faintly. "Perfect timing."
My father straightens. "Asher, let me introduce you properly. This is my friend, Alistair. And this is his first son, Edmund."
Asher nods at my father first. "Sir."
Then he looks at me.
Just once. Almost like he didn't want to see me at all.
I step forward and stretch out my hand. "Nice to meet you."
He doesn't take it.
Doesn't even glance at it.
Instead, he turns back to his father. "I'll get going now. We'll talk later."
And with that, he walks away.
Just like that.
Rio exhales slowly. "I apologize for his behavior. Asher can be… like that sometimes."
My father waves it off, though his brows curved slightly annoyed. "No offense taken."
I don't say anything. I couldn't.
Because for reasons I don't understand, I was suddenly more aware of myself. Because as sharp witted as I am, I couldn't come up with a proper response. Because the man who just ignored me was, annoyingly, disgustingly handsome.
And I hate that I noticed.
The rest of the conversation barely made any sense to me. I was in a floating state.
The moment it was socially acceptable, I grabbed my father by the arm and pulled him aside.
"What the hell was that?" I hissed.
"Not here," he says sharply. "Paparazzi."
"I'm not doing it," I say. "Whatever agreement you've made, forget it."
"You do not have a choice," he replies, voice low.
I laugh, bitter. "You can't force me."
"We'll talk about this when we get home," he says. "For now, conduct yourself properly."
I look around.
I step back. "I'm leaving."
"Edmund…"
I didn't wait for him to finish.
I walked out of the gala fuming, but with each stride I took, I felt even more pissed. I couldn't decide which angered me more. Asher's dismissal, the sudden agreement between his dad and mine or the fucking impression he left on me barely 0.00 seconds he was in the room.