by Gun Brooke
Aeron had been like her quiet, supportive shadow all day, whether at the Thorn Industries’ headquarters or when Sylvie was on the phone with Prime Minister Löfvén and the Minister of Finance, Andersson. Her presence had helped ground Sylvie and made it possible for her to take the helm.
The envelope her mother had talked about lay right in front of her in the shallow middle drawer. For Sylvie and Camilla when required. Inside, Sylvie found a key chain with at least ten different keys to deposit boxes. There was also a thick folder of documents she required to run the company in her father’s absence. The weight of responsibility crashed down on her shoulders, and she resorted to her childhood rigidity, something she’d need to pull this off. She pressed the heel of her hands against her eyes. Sylvie knew she had to stay in Sweden. For how long, she had no idea. Thorn Industries USA would have to make do with her second-in-command until she had the chance to fill that position.
Sylvie swallowed hard when she thought of Classic Swedish Inc. This wasn’t going to happen the way she’d planned for so many years. Michelle would run the company with a sure hand; Sylvie knew this. As much as Michelle would report everything worth Sylvie’s attention, it wouldn’t be the same. For the business to work and thrive, she’d have to let go of the control she had now. She’d no longer be able to set aside the hour, or even half an hour, every day, like she’d done while working in the US, to devote to Classic Swedish Inc. Michelle would become CEO, and as wonderful as she was, they were completely different people. This was bound to have a direct impact on how the company was run. However, Sylvie wouldn’t dream of putting anyone else but Michelle in charge in her absence.
“Sylvie? You okay?” Aeron asked softly from the doorway.
“Come in.” Steeling herself, Sylvie knew this would be hard. So hard she wondered if she could pull it off. This was Aeron, after all. The woman who’d reached her in a way nobody else ever had.
Aeron scanned the room. “Wow. Impressive.”
It was a magnificent study, with cherrywood, built-in bookshelves from floor to ceiling. “I suppose they reflect my father.”
Shoving her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and swaying back and forth on her heels, Aeron looked over at Sylvie through her eyelashes. “I’m stalling. I could care less about the wood of your father’s desk.” She smiled crookedly. “I do however care about how you’re doing, and from where I stand now, you look…devastated.”
“That’s an astute observation.” Sylvie sat down in her father’s large leather chair. “A lot has changed today, and not for the better. I heard from Mom just now. They’ve adjusted Father’s thrombolytic therapy. From what my mother could decipher, the stroke could have shut down most of the left part of his brain if we’d waited just a few minutes longer.”
“But we didn’t. You didn’t. You took command and made sure everyone did what they were supposed to.” Aeron started to round the desk, but Sylvie raised her hand to stop her. If Aeron touched her, even briefly, she’d crumble.
“What’s wrong?” Aeron winced. “I mean, I know what’s wrong, but right now? Between us?” She looked at Sylvie with big eyes behind her wire-frame glasses.
“Nothing’s wrong. You haven’t done anything wrong, at least. I, on the other hand, wasn’t thinking straight earlier when I promised we’d see this through together.” Her jaw rigid, Sylvie struggled to keep her voice even.
“I don’t understand.” Aeron sat down slowly in one of the leather visitors’ chairs. “Please, explain it so I can grasp what’s going on.”
“I’m staying.” The words hurt Sylvie’s throat.
“What?” Frowning now, Aeron looked concerned. “What do you mean? Here in Sweden?”
“Yes. I’m the only person my parents trust to take care of Thorn Industries. If this had been only about my father, I’d have made sure he got the best care money can buy and gone back to New York. As it is now, running Thorn Industries is a matter of loyalty.
“I’m not saying you shouldn’t be loyal to your parents, but so many people depend on Thorn Industries for their livelihood. I believe it’s about thirty thousand people, directly speaking, and more than two hundred thousand if we count all the people who depend on Thorn Industries indirectly.” Sylvie knew she sounded like she was lecturing, but perhaps her tone would expedite this meeting. If it dragged out, her heart would have time to shatter in several irreparable pieces. That couldn’t happen in front of Aeron. If it did, Aeron would realize just how overwhelmed Sylvie really felt and insist on staying, thus prolonging the agony of the inevitable. “I can’t be selfish about this, Aeron.”
“So, you’re staying indefinitely?” Aeron was pale now, her hands clenched into two small fists on her lap.
“Yes.” Thankful Aeron had caught on quickly, Sylvie closed the folder again. “I’ve arranged for VIP service at Landvetter Airport for you when you fly home. If you want to leave straight away, it can be arranged quite easily.”
“You can’t wait to get rid of me, can you, Sylvie?” Aeron sounded profoundly sad. “You’re not even going to ask me to stay so we can give it a try.” It wasn’t a question.
“I won’t have time to socialize.” Sylvie’s chest constricted, and for several horrible moments, she thought she wouldn’t be able to go through with it. She wanted to take Aeron in her arms and reassure them both they’d be together. Instead, she slammed the hatches to her soul shut and stayed on course. It was what her parents expected of her. Her duty to the company superseded everything else, no matter the personal cost.
“Socialize?” Aeron raised her voice and stood. “Here I am, offering myself in all the ways a person can put herself out there, and you talk as if we don’t have time for book circles and fucking tea parties!” Getting up as well, she pressed her palms to the desk between them, not taking her eyes from Sylvie.
It dawned on Sylvie how the scene before her was like a metaphor of their situation. She was pulling back and reconciling with the destiny she’d fought so hard against, and Aeron looked like she was trying to push the massive desk out of her way, as if the desk represented Thorn Industries, Sylvie’s family, and the Thorn dynasty.
“I’m sorry it can’t work out the way we wanted. I had no idea my father was at risk for a stroke,” Sylvie said, trying her best to hold back her sense of panic.
“Oh, don’t even try,” Aeron spat. “You’ve pulled back once before, and I, like a fool, did everything to understand and give you space. Now you have duties to your family, and I get that. I truly do, and I’m offering to stay on here, as I can work from anywhere as long as I have a laptop. You won’t even let me do that. I’m not sure what’s so alluring in the foxhole you keep retreating to.”
“I can’t ask that of you.” Frustrated that Aeron didn’t see how she was trying to save her from getting caught in the web of her family, Sylvie slammed her palms against the desk. “We haven’t known each other long enough, and despite our legal agreement, you don’t owe me anything.”
*
Aeron flinched but didn’t back off. Sylvie looked at her as if she was a stranger, which brought all kinds of demons to the surface. “You just don’t want me if it means making the least bit of effort or standing up to all the Thorns.” Her voice hollow, she felt herself pull back and hide in the inner crannies of her soul. Another rejection. This time she could add heartbreak to the mix. Yes, they hadn’t known each other very long, but she’d responded to Sylvie like they’d been soul mates for years. Unless she was delusional, Sylvie had felt the same. This had to be some sort of altruistic approach, some remnant of Sylvie’s lifelong experience of never being good enough for her father. After all, the whole endeavor with Classic Swedish Inc. was yet another indication of the same desire: of showing Daniel how she could make it successfully without him.
“Nothing I can say will change your mind,” Aeron said slowly, knowing in her heart she was right. “You’ve already locked me out.” She was afraid she’d be sick. Well, if sh
e puked all over Daniel’s desk, so be it.
“I’m sorry.” Sylvie looked shell-shocked where she stood, as if she were a soldier in the trenches on her side of the desk.
Aeron had to leave the room or she’d start crying. As odd as it seemed, she didn’t want to add to Sylvie’s burden by forcing her emotions on her. She saw Sylvie’s pain beneath her austere CEO persona. Sylvie made Aeron think of a pressure cooker with all its vents sealed. Aeron couldn’t wait to get on the first plane back to the Adirondacks. She needed to regroup, and she couldn’t do that here with Sylvie looking at her as if she were a stranger.
“Fine.” Aeron pressed her hand to her forehead, where a persistent headache had ignited with full force. “I’ll grab a cab to Landvetter—”
“Don’t do that. I’ll have one of our drivers take you,” Sylvie said quickly. If Aeron had harbored the slightest hope Sylvie would object to her leaving, it crashed and burned instantly.
“I’ll take a cab. Don’t worry about it. I’d rather just go on my own.” Aeron left the room but stopped just outside the door and glanced back at Sylvie. She stood motionless, like a statue, her eyes locked on Aeron. Another wave of frustration washed over her as Aeron knew at that point they were both walking away from something wonderful. Damn you, Maeve, for teaching me to expect these situations rather than to fight for what…or who I love. She loved Sylvie. Aeron gasped and strode down the corridor toward their room. Now her tears flowed freely, and sorrow mixed with anger and resentment. How could anyone survive such raw pain?
Calling a cab and tossing her things into her suitcase took less than fifteen minutes. She didn’t plan to hang around at the Thorn mansion; she’d rather wait at the airport for the first available seat on a plane home.
As the cab maneuvered through a suddenly rainy and miserable-looking Gothenburg, the people on the sidewalks hurried along under umbrellas. The parks that had been filled with people only an hour ago now lay desolate and abandoned.
Aeron curled up on the seat and pulled her hands into her sleeves. She was cold. And just like the parks in Gothenburg, she too felt desolate and abandoned.
Chapter Twenty-three
Sylvie buried herself in work. She spent twenty hours a day at the office, dealing with the board of directors, the main shareholders, and the largest daughter companies. Thomas flew over from the US, as she needed him just as many hours. Realizing he couldn’t help her with the Swedish texts, she quickly hired yet another assistant, an older woman on the verge of retirement.
Now as they met in the hospital corridor, Camilla once again started asking about Aeron but stopped abruptly when Sylvie rounded on her. “Mother. Don’t.” The use of the word mother instead of mom was as indicative of Sylvie’s agony and fury as her low growl.
“But I only—”
“I can’t. I can’t do that right now. Please.” Her wrath turned to a plea, which she hated, but if it would keep Camilla from talking about Aeron, so be it.
“You’re working yourself to a pulp. It’s been two weeks, honey, and I’ve barely seen you. If you’re not at the office, then you spend half your nights at the hospital. You’re going to burn out.”
“Have some faith,” Sylvie said, but the halfhearted joke fell flat between them. “Mom, I need to stretch myself a bit thin in the beginning. I have to be on top of things constantly, or our stocks will go down even more. Once people realize I can do this job, that I’ve trained for this since I was nineteen, everything will normalize.”
“Perhaps for Thorn Industries. But for you? I don’t think so.” Camilla shook her head sadly. “I worry.”
Sylvie smiled tensely. “No need, Mom. I’ll pop in to see Father for a bit, and then I’m going back to the office. How is he today?”
Camilla sighed and leaned against the wall. “Tired. He’s exhausted most of the time. His speech is still slurred and he loathes it.”
“What about his paralysis?”
“Still there. The nurse told me he’s getting better, but I can’t see it.” Camilla drew a trembling breath. “He’ll be glad to see you.”
Sylvie wasn’t so sure about that, but didn’t want to further upset her mother. “Okay. I’ll go in now. Why don’t you call one of your friends and go out to dinner? I’ll sit here until he goes to sleep.”
Brightening somewhat, Camilla pushed off the wall. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to—”
“Mom. Just go. You haven’t seen the outside world properly in ages.”
“I suppose.” Camilla kissed Sylvie’s cheek and hugged her. “Thank you, honey. I’ll be back here before they close the main entrance for the evening.”
As the sound of Camilla’s four-inch heels against the corridor floor disappeared, Sylvie steeled herself and opened the door to her father’s room. She hadn’t seen him awake in three days. Normally she came after ten p.m. and stayed till after midnight. She spent those three or four hours studying the face of the man who epitomized strength, arrogance, and power but now looked anything but those things. While Daniel slept, his face looked slightly sunken in, his hair mussed against his pillow. That was one of the things he’d come to loathe.
Her father wasn’t vain, but he was particular about the effect he had on other people—especially financial adversaries. He never left the house in anything but a three-piece suit when he was going to work. During what little free time he afforded himself, he dressed in expensive leisurewear with a nautical theme. Now, clothed in the hospital’s white shirt and saggy pistachio-green sweatpants, he looked as if he were his own poor older brother.
Stepping inside, Sylvie saw Daniel was awake.
“Hello, Father.” Sylvie took the seat her mother usually occupied.
“T-t-took your sch-sweet t-time getting here.” Daniel’s voice was low, husky, and barely understandable. One side of his mouth drooped, and a string of saliva ran down his chin.
Calmly, Sylvie took a tissue from the bedside table and wiped it away. Daniel’s eyes burned with anger. Her audacious act of giving him unsolicited help clearly infuriated him but also made him vulnerable.
“Trying this again. Hi.” She patted his motionless arm. “Mom says you’re doing a little better.”
“Fuck th-that.” Daniel waved his good arm around. “Mmm-members of the—bo-board?”
“I’ve been in touch with all the main players, Father. I’ve followed your guidelines in the envelope you left for us. The stocks fell three points, but all experts estimate they’ll go up again within a month. Nobody’s indispensable, not even Daniel Thorn.” She smiled wryly.
“You look…like…h-hell.” Daniel retaliated, of course.
“I know. Nothing a little makeup won’t fix.” She shrugged. “Long days.”
“Can’t cut it…eh?” His laughter was awful, hissing and malicious. It ended with a coughing fit, and Sylvie had to help him by raising the head of the bed. Once he caught his breath and his face was no longer dark red, she calmly sat down.
“I can cut it. And I think you know it.” Sylvie took her father’s motionless hand. To anyone watching, this would look like a loving gesture. Sylvie knew in this instant what she probably could have figured out a long time ago, if she hadn’t been so afraid of him still. Now, when she had the power and he was helpless, she could see clearly for the first time ever.
She didn’t have to be afraid of this man. Just this, a mere holding of hands without fear or trepidation, merely because of compassion, proved he’d lost his grip on her. She didn’t even care how this revelation had come to her when he was incapacitated. Daniel’s weakened state might as well have bound her harder to him, made her guilt-ridden and steered her back into the fold.
“You sent me to the US to fail, and when I succeeded, you never said anything positive about it. You acted as if running the US branch was like managing a tobacco store. I’m really sorry you didn’t find it in your heart to give me any credit.” Sylvie looked at the man in the bed with pity. “I’m not sorry for mysel
f. Not anymore, but mainly for Mom. And yes, for you. She would have loved to see us on good terms with each other, and for her I kept trying and trying, when any sane person would have walked away a long time ago.”
The feeling was so overwhelming that she squeezed his hand a little too hard.
He winced. “C-cocky.”
“I’m a Thorn. It’s in our DNA.”
“True.” A lopsided smile emphasized how his other side could move only a fraction of an inch.
“I’ve tried to prove myself to you for so long. It ends now. Once the company is through the worst turmoil, the doctors and you will have figured out whether you’ll be able to return to the business. I’ll run it for you until then, but we won’t talk again.”
“S-Sylvie!” Daniel jerked. “Wh-what the he-hell…”
“Listen. Once I’m done with being the provisional president of Thorn Industries, I’ll go on with my own plans.” Sylvie hoped she still had her own company to fall back on, but either way, she’d be gone.
“P-pathetic spa company?” Daniel laughed again, an ugly, bitter laughter. Then he began to cough. When it wouldn’t let up, even while sipping some juice, Sylvie pressed the button that alerted the nurses’ station. “Try to calm down, Daniel.” She held him up, slightly bent forward to make it easier for him to breathe.
As the nurses entered, Sylvie stepped back and let them do their job. Whether they knew who their patient was or not, they treated him with professional courtesy, no more, no less. Sylvie saw how her father’s cough lessened and his breathing improved. She stepped out of the hospital room quietly, not about to go through a drawn-out good-bye that would mean cursing on his part and defiance on hers.
She was done with this. Sylvie intended to keep in contact with her mother, no matter what, but she’d meant what she said. She refused to see or speak with her father anymore.
She was done.
