Craig knew bringing Conor and Adriana to the event was a bad idea, but the more he looked for excuses to keep them away, the more reasons piled up for them to come.
The moment his father's voice cut through the speakerphone, clipped and final:
"Take Conor. One hour. If the boy still yawns at mergers and acquisitions, we'll stop asking.
Conor had just flown in from Monaco with the first light of morning stretching across the coast. Craig had picked him up himself, not out of obligation, not because he enjoyed playing chauffeur, but because Conor hated the family's usual protocols.
The professionalism, the security guards, the rehearsed greetings, all of it made him sick to his stomach. He preferred things personal, unguarded. That was just who he was.
Craig had planned to leave him at his apartment. That plan changed at the last minute.
