A/N: Thanks for the follows for the last chapter! If you like what you've read, please leave a review! They make me write faster! Once again, special thanks to Daisy/stargazerdaisy for her editing skills and taking the time to make this fic better. You're wonderful, you are!
Chapter 2: All In The Family
It was Melinda's custom to go into the office on Wednesdays. Though Grant ran the company she was still the CEO, if only in title, so every Wednesday she dressed for the office and met Grant in the foyer.
Grant was standing with Fitz, who was wearing his leather jacket for a ride on his motorcycle. He had paused to greet his brother in the foyer and was now animatedly talking about his latest girlfriend of the past few weeks. Melinda knew of her by name only. Skye Johnson, a talented security software developer and I have co-owner with her father of Quake Technologies. She developed the software for the company while her father managed the financials. Fitz had apparently met her at a party and that they hit it off only made sense; she with her expertise in software, and he with his gifting in computer hardware.
"Just make me look good when you meet her," Fitz was saying. Then he grinned. "I mean, I know I look good. But make me sound good."
Grant looked at him blankly.
"Talk about my achievements. Make me sound successful." A non-committal shrug from his elder brother was the response he received. "Lie, okay?"
"Does it speak to your depravity or my own that I'd willingly imperil my soul for the sake of your sex life?" Grant retorted, but it fell on deaf ears. Fitz had noticed his stepmother's approach and greeted her.
"Great dress, Melinda," he said as he followed her and Grant out the front door to the Rolls Royce where Phil stood at attention.
"Consider it progress, Grant," Melinda said. "I can't remember the last time Fitz asked us to meet one of his girlfriends. Although," she turned to her younger stepson, "Maybe you could come into the office and be productive rather than ask your brother to tout your achievements. Just a thought," she suggested before kissing his cheek.
He could not be angry with her. "I think you're doing just fine without me," he replied as she slid into the back of the Rolls Royce. "You guys work Sundays now?"
This naturally gave Grant pause. Looking at his brother with a resigned expression, he said, "It's Wednesday, Fitz."
Grant and Melinda departed for the office soon after. She chose to relax on the ride while Grant used the time to work. His laptop was in his lap and he typed a few lines in a spreadsheet before calling his assistant, who was already at the office.
"Kara, get me Robert, please." Kara obliged and a few seconds later, Grant was connected to the financial planner. "Robert, start buying as much Quake Tech stock as you can. As much as you can," he repeated, when the man tried to state an amount. He didn't love the idea of having stocks abbreviated to "QT" to his name -he wondered if Skye had done that on purpose, even- but he'd overlook that for his reasons . "That's all, Robert." Robert acknowledged his boss' instructions and Grant hung up.
"Did you know Quake Tech is the number one developer of computer security software in the world?" He said to Melinda.
Melinda appeared inscrutable. "I did not know that," she said. It became clear to her that her stepson was formulating a plan. She could practically see the gears in his head turning, but he offered no further insight into what he was thinking. When minutes passed and he said no more, Melinda spoke to her driver.
"Mr. Coulson," she said, "how is our girl doing?" She'd always been terribly fond of Phil's niece.
"She's well, Mrs. Ward," he answered, "Though I think she's beginning to get lonely."
It was an understandable concern. "Well, I'm certain Angeline is taking good care of her."
Grant interjected with interest. "Angeline? Your friend from Marie Claire?"
"The same."
"I thought your niece was studying biochemistry at Yale, Phil." He recalled penning her letter of recommendation to his alma mater, at the behest of his stepmother.
If Phil was shocked the younger Ward remembered (he was), he did not show it. "She is. I mean, she was. She didn't finish her last semester." His grip tightened on the wheel. "She took a break to help me when I was unwell a few years ago."
Grant remembered that period. While waiting to take him home after a late night at the office, Mr. Coulson was injured in a mugging gone awry. Grant had felt extremely guilty and as compensation paid for all of Phil's medical expenses. Their temporary chauffeur was not nearly so amiable as Coulson, but Grant bore it as additional penance. To learn his niece had specifically withdrawn from school due to the incident made Grant feel the guilt anew. "And she has not returned yet?"
"No sir," Phil admitted. "I have asked her to many times. I've even offered to help with tuition, since she's been paying out of the inheritance her parents left her, but she's refused me. She's quite stubborn."
"A family trait, perhaps?" Melinda supposed, her eyes meeting Phil's in the reflection of the rearview mirror. Her typically stern expression softened, and he felt his doing the same.
After a moment, Phil agreed. "Perhaps."
The Ward family hosted a small dinner for Skye and her father the following Friday. The two of them arrived shortly after six; Cal Johnson in his limo with Skye trailing behind on a motorcycle of her own. Though Melinda wore a dress for the occasion, Skye donned slacks and a pretty but functional blouse that was obscured until she removed her leather jacket.
The three Wards waited on the front steps to greet them. As Skye's bike roared while she put it in park, Grant said to his stepmother, "An unconventional bunch, aren't they?"
She shot him a look. "Don't be intolerant. We're not exactly status quo ourselves." Skye was only a few feet away by that point, so Melinda turned to welcome her. "For once my stepson isn't full of it. You are stunning!" She said with a genuine smile as Skye approached, followed closely by her father.
Skye had previously tried and failed at being demure. Directness was much more her style. "So nice to finally meet you," she said with real excitement and ignored Melinda's extended hand to give her a hug instead.
While the women talked and Fitz looked on, Grant greeted her father, Cal Johnson.
"Cal," he said, shaking his hand.
"Grant," the other man said, and a knowing look passed between them. In a hushed tone, Cal said, "Are we going to pretend that Highware didn't buy a significant amount of Quake Tech stock today?"
Grant's heart leapt to his throat, but his face remained passive, his handshake still firm. "Who's to say it wasn't done to get your attention?"
"Consider it yours then, young man." Then, loud enough to be meant for all nearby ears, Cal announced he was starving and wondered aloud if Melinda would be so kind as to lead the way. She acquiesced, taking him by the arm and leading him inside. Fitz and Skye followed, hand-in-hand. Grant was last.
Dinner was, all things considered, an uneventful affair. Fitz had experienced all the reasonable amounts of anxiety over the two families meeting, and then some not-so-reasonable, but he was pleased that the evening actually ended up rather dull. Grant and Cal talked business, though they kept their conversation fairly light and non-combative, and Skye and Melinda discussed their experiences with Chinese-American parents, as Skye's mother had been Chinese. Fitz was pleased as punch to just sit quietly and allow the two sides to get familiar, though in his silence may have ingested more brandy than he would normally had he been engaged in conversation.
When dinner had ended, Melinda offered to have coffee and dessert served in the study. Cal agreed to this and naturally Grant did too. The young couple asked to be excused and withdrew to Fitz's quarters. He had the kitchen send up a bottle of wine and more brandy for him, as well as graham crackers, marshmallows, chocolate bars, and skewers.
They toasted the marshmallows over the fireplace in his room. Once alone, Skye grew quiet and pensive.
"Something on your mind," he asked when the silence stretched into minutes.
"Hm? Oh. Yes," Skye answered. "Just thinking about a hacking attempt our IT contractors thwarted today. One of our big clients. Could've been ugly."
He grinned. "Not surprised to hear they were no match for you."
She leaned into his shoulder and withdrew her marshmallow from the open flame. It was slightly charred and he put it on the sandwich of crackers and chocolate for her. "Fitz. You are the best," she said.
He kissed her forehead and handed her the dessert. "It's only a s'more."
"Yes but it's a hell of a s'more."
"Would you say it's on par with thwarting a hacking attempt?"
"Nothing's on par with thwarting a hack attempt," she teased, and they both laughed.
"You're too good to me," he said, still laughing as he made a s'more for himself.
She said nothing until he took a bite. "If that were true, then why don't you marry me?"
He froze. Melted chocolate dripped down his fingers while he remained still. "Okay," he answered after a second. "Why don't I?"
"Don't make fun."
"I'm not making fun," he insisted and put the s'more down on a napkin. "Why don't I?"
"You tell me."
"I can't think of a good reason."
She snorted. "Oh, so romantic! Words every woman is just dying to hear."
"It is when you consider the source," Fitz said, then felt compelled to explain even though doing so exposed the less likable aspect of his personality, one he had inexplicably tried to keep hidden from her since they began dating. It's not that she hadn't known of his reputation, but she seemed to operate under the thinking that it was exaggerated. She was the first in a long time to give him the benefit of the doubt. He didn't want to lose that, yet still heard himself saying, "Before you, I wouldn't have even made a joke about settling down. Not with any of the many women I've dated." He hoped she didn't ask him to quantify "many". "Before you... before you, the thought of marriage would have terrified me. But my pulse is steady and I'm not scared, so I ask you again, Skye: why don't I?"
And that is how Leopold Fitz Ward, part-time inventor and full-time playboy, got engaged.
They kept their plans to marry a secret for the evening. It was just as well, because for Fitz the bliss was short-lived. The next day, he came storming out of the elevators and through the lobby of Highware, walking with such purpose that no one tried to stop him until he reached Grant's office, and his assistant was forced to play goalie.
"He's in a meeting, hesonlunch-DON'T" he heard Kara scramble to say as he burst through the door.
Grant was seated on the black leather couch. On the coffee table before him pages and pages of notes were spread. His laptop was also opened and next to it stood a half drunk cup of coffee. He was facing the large television screen that occupied most of the opposite. With it, he was video-chatting with Ron Smythe and Ron Irving, two members of the board.
"Ron. Ron." Fitz acknowledged the gentlemen on the call before looking at his brother. "I need to talk to you."
"I'm in a meeting."
"How often do I come here?"
Grant sighed. "Ron? Ron? Please contact Kara to reschedule." He ended the call and gave his brother his attention.
Fitz wasted no time, angrily tossing his smartphone into his brother's lap. On the screen was a headline from New York Times that read: "Highware to merge with Quake Technologies?"
"Care to explain that?" Fitz challenged.
Grant skimmed the article. It was mostly hearsay and hastily drawn conclusions, but it did point out Grant's very recent purchase of Quake Technology stock. "There's nothing to explain."
"So you're not taking advantage of my relationship with Skye to push a merger with Quake Tech?"
"'Take advantage' of you? Who is taking advantage of who? I could burn in hell for the lies I told to make you look good in front of her father," Grant reminded him.
"If I'd known this was your plan-"
"-'Make me look good. Talk about my achievements. Lie, okay?' Those are your words, not mine."
"And I'm grateful, but-"
"- but what, Fitz?"
"I wish you'd told me," he said with a shake of his head. "You have no idea how complicated things have just become."
Grant stood and handed Fitz his phone. "Well, then tell me."
"We're engaged."
Grant was good at reading his co-workers, reading the public, and reading the market, but nothing could have prepared him for that revelation. That, however, was more of a shock knowing Fitz's personal history and less of a blow to his business plans.
"Mazel Tov," he said sarcastically and clapped his brother on the back.
"I don't know what came over me," Fitz continued as he took a seat on the couch. "We were eating s'mores and then all of a sudden I'm an almost-married man. I don't know if I'm ready to take care of a wife, Grant."
"She's a millionaire, Fitz. I doubt she'll be a burden."
"But this merger... What if her father thinks the only reason I'm with her is for their business?" He paused at the thought, then clutched his stomach and groaned. "I don't have the constitution for this."
"What do you want me to do?" Grant asked as he sat beside his brother. "Disqualify myself from a billion-dollar deal because I might have family connections? We aren't the only ones looking to get into bed with QT, and any advantage we can get-"
"'Advantage'?" Fitz interrupted. "This is my life you're talking about."
"And I pay for your life. My life makes your life possible."
"I resent that."
"Me too. You have a closet full of inventions you've never patented. You have degrees in fields I can't name. Your mechanical prowess is unmatched and how do you spend your time? In the company of women you never see more than twice. Now Skye has come along and she's the best thing that's ever happened to you, isn't she?" When his brother didn't answer, Grant shook his shoulder. "Isn't she?"
"What's your point," Fitz spat.
"My point? Damn it, Fitz, you're a grown man. See something through for once."
Silence followed as Fitz considered his brother's advice. "You see the irony, right?You, giving relationship advice, when your idea of a long-term relationship is letting your date get dessert after dinner."
"I don't have time for dessert," Grant said as he picked up his laptop and carried it back to his desk. "I have a company to run."
Following the fiasco of a photo shoot, Angeline took special care to encourage Jemma frequently. Their walks became a weekly tradition, occasionally ending with cups of tea and pastries, but always filled with therapeutic conversation. Jemma found herself speaking with an honesty she'd never dare use at home.
In addition to Angeline, Jemma found another surprising confidant in Antoine, the photographer whose shoot she'd botched. He had been so forgiving the day of, and a few weeks later asked to take her out for a drink. He leveled his request with a perfect, endearing smile, and she could not say no; nor did she want to.
On one of their walks along the river, Angeline mentioned Antoine. Jemma smiled upon hearing his name.
"I like him. He's a good friend," she stated. "He's funny, and kind, and a good photographer. Did you know he's teaching me photography? He's such a nice man." This was all said in the same tone of voice one might use describing a favorite teacher, and Angeline picked up on it.
"But there is someone in the way, no?" She asked. When Jemma did not answer quickly, she said, "Could it be this Fitz you've casually mentioned, oh, a hundred times or so?"
Even though it was a jibe at her expense, Jemma did not get defensive instantly, like she would have with her uncle. "The thought of him keeps me company."
"Ah, but he's only a thought. He is an illusion, Jemma. Illusions are dangerous," she warned, pausing to lean against the railing of the bridge. "When I arrived from Provence, I was like you; alone and lost and sadder than I'd like to admit. I took long walks, I wrote nonsense in a journal for the better part of a year." She turned to Jemma. "I found myself in Paris."
Jemma did not meet her eyes but stared straight ahead over the water. "It sounds lovely," she whispered, only because she didn't know what else to say.
"It was." Then, Angeline slid her hand over Jemma's in a friendly gesture of comfort and companionship. "I know you are embarrassed by your loneliness, Jemma, but don't be. You are on a long walk with yourself and will reach your destination soon enough."
Melinda informed Phil of Fitz's engagement personally, well aware of the torch Jemma had carried for Fitz since childhood. She would not have been adverse to her stepson pursuing a relationship with the chauffeur's niece, but he'd never reciprocated her feelings. It was a moot point now and her primary concern was keeping Jemma's heart from breaking as best she could.
They stood in her home office, discussing their young relatives in hushed tones. "What will you tell her?" Melinda asked.
Phil looked truly lost. "I don't know. 'Jemma, your life is a dream and now it is over'?" He laughed, but it was joyless. "I'm afraid this will crush her, Melinda."
She put a consoling hand on his shoulder. "I'll write to her if you'd prefer."
"No. I'm her uncle. It should come from me." Then he said, "But will you help?"
"Of course."
Together, they composed an email. It read:
Dear Jemma,
What I am about to tell you may come as a shock, but I truly believe it may be for the best. I know how strongly you have felt about Fitz all these years. That in mind, it breaks my heart to tell you that he is now engaged. The woman he's marrying is lovely, kind, and humorous. In another life, I'd like to believe you'd be friends. In another life.
I'm sure you're heartbroken, but don't let this cause you to give up on love, my darling. You have so very much of it to give, and whomever receives your heart for good will be a lucky man indeed.
All my love,
Uncle Phil