Now, the ranch served as the family home, with the main house, his sister's smaller home, a twenty-car garage, and a few scattered cottages for the staff. Fifteen acres stood in Derek's name, waiting for him to build a home, too. But that wasn't something he intended to do. He enjoyed working in the family business, but he wanted his own niche. And that meant focusing on new directions at the Winston corporation, many of which took him away from Dallas. More important, he had no desire to live on the ranch, where every time he looked to the sky, all he'd see was his father's eye looking down into the microscope. He got enough of that from working with the man.
Anthony put down his juice glass and silently sat back in his chair, studying Derek. His father was a big man, with the same broad shoulders that Derek saw every time he looked in a mirror. He could also be intimidating as hell.
Today, Derek wasn't intimidated. Quite the opposite. Today, he was irritated. "I need to get to the airport. Why the summons to the castle?"
"Because the reputation of this company requires that the South Congress Motor Inn deal be handled with finesse."
Derek leaned back, his fingers steepled. "Have you forgotten that I originated this deal? That the entire concept driving this acquisition was mine?"
His father sighed. "You've got a good mind, son, no one doubts that."
Derek's brows lifted; as far as he'd known, his father doubted it on a daily basis.
"But this is a deal that needs to be handled quietly. We don't need chatter among the investors or speculation in the trades." Anthony met Derek's eyes. "You understand what I'm saying?"
"Dad, I've been in this business since I was in diapers. I have business degrees from Harvard and Yale. You sent me off to work at competing hotels when I was sixteen years old. I've delivered room service. I've worked in the laundry. And I make one hell of a fine concierge if I do say so myself. I know this business top to bottom. Plus, I'm the one who conceived Winston Boutiques. So forgive me if I sound a little put-out for being lectured about what I already know."
The Winston Boutiques division was still in the planning stages, but Derek had every intention of bringing it to fruition and making it his own. And right now, everything hinged on the South Congress Motor Inn deal. The idea was to find well-located but financially burdened motels with sentimental significance to their town, refurbish them into quality rooms with high-end amenities, and market them as premier destination accommodations with a retro feel.
Last month, he'd scoped out the failing motor inn on Austin's extremely retail-and-tourist friendly South Congress Avenue, and he'd decided it was the perfect launch location.
All Derek had to do was acquire the place and get the ball rolling.
And when he nailed this project, he intended to insist that he be put in charge of the entire Winston Boutiques division.
That, however, was ultimately up to the board of directors. And the board didn't wipe their own asses without first hearing what Anthony Winston wanted.
He sighed. Basically, he was stuck at the ranch until his father said his piece.
"I'm not doubting your skill, son. You're a Winston, and you've got the chops. But we don't want the press to get wind of what we're doing, and the way you and Jared Ingram behave..."
Derek held up a hand. "What the hell does Jared have to do with anything? He's in LA, and I'm here, and I haven't gone out with him in months."
"Good to know," his father said. "Because you boys need to calm down."
Jared Ingram had been Derek's boarding school roommate. The heir to a family fortune that reached back to the beginning of time, Jared had enough money to buy and sell Anthony Winston a thousand times over. He was smart and funny and personable--and unlike Derek, he didn't have a clue what he wanted to do with his life.
"Calm down?" Derek stared at his father. "Is that a euphemism for being seen? For having a good time? Christ, Dad, I've spent my entire life running interference for the Winston brand. You're going to begrudge me a few parties?"
"It's a euphemism for screwing around and making an ass of yourself. What? You don't know how to have a good time without partying with some floozy? Getting drunk and getting your face in the papers every time you're with that boy?"
Frustrated, Derek leaned back and ran his fingers through his hair.
No doubt, Jared was a player. And although Derek could never steal Jared's crown in that regard, he couldn't deny that he used to walk in those shoes, too. Especially when he was in the city with Jared.
Jared was not, however, a bad guy or a wastrel, and his father's suggestion to the contrary made Derek's blood boil. "I work hard. I play hard. And I have never once shirked my responsibilities to the Winston Corporation."
Even as he said them, though, the words seemed hollow. The truth was, Jared's antics had been getting on his nerves lately, too. For the last year, Derek had been going out with his friend more to keep an eye on him. Not to join him.
But it was just like his dad not to give him the benefit of the doubt.
Still, he had to admit that his father had a point. Just because Derek wasn't getting wasted at every club from New York to Dallas to Los Angeles didn't mean that Derek was entirely pure. He'd had his share of women over the years, and continued to do so. And, yeah, sometimes a piece of that ended up in the papers.
His past shouldn't impact the Austin deal ... but if the past became the present, it might. If he was seen with a woman in Austin, that would undoubtedly end up on social media. Not harmful in and of itself, but an observant competitor might see a picture of him in Austin and wonder what he was doing there. Possibly investigate. Possibly figure it out.
And then the Winston Corporation could find itself in a multiple party bidding war instead of being the only player at the table opposite the motor inn.
Damn, but the world had been simpler in his father's time. But there was no putting the cork in the social media bottle.