Slowly massaging my achy temples, I sat stoically, hoping whatever pandemonium was happening outside would eventually die down. When it failed to dissipate five minutes later, I groaned, knowing I’d have to intervene.

Here comes the asshole.

I was already known in the company as the Dickhead of the East, never speaking to anyone unless absolutely necessary and barely acknowledging a single person’s presence. Now, I was going to have to yell.

Again.

Rising from the expensive leather chair, I brushed the front of my jacket, tightened my tie, and straightened my back, feeling my bones strain from being hunched over my computer for far too long.

Walking toward the door, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirrored wall of the old bar my father had put in ages ago, back when handing your business partner a glass of liquor was as common as lighting up a cigarette indoors. Although the practice might have gone out of style, neither Jude nor I could part with it. Business deals might be made over conference tables more than bottles of gin, but I still loved the look of it.

It had a special place in my memories as well. Sitting atop the sleek brown mahogany shelves were irreplaceable crystal decanters that my father had had imported from Ireland. This place, the office I’d inherited from him always reminded me of my father—the good, the bad, and everything in between.

Raising a hand to my dirty blond hair, I tried to straighten out the indentations I’d made over the many hours. Seeing the dark circles and tired green eyes staring back at me, it was a wonder I was even awake at all.

When was the last time I slept?

When was the last time I was home?

I couldn’t remember.

Since Jude and his family had gone, that left me here. Alone.

He was in charge of our new West Coast division, and of course, he was making strides and handling it all like a pro, and he probably wasn’t even losing sleep over any of it.

Nothing ever seemed to challenge him.

Me on the other hand? I would be up at all hours, just trying to keep afloat. Of course, I’d never tell him that.

Or anyone else, for that matter.

To the rest of the world, I was just the asshole, the guy who didn’t give two fucks about anyone. And, mostly, they were right. I didn’t.

But this company? Well, that, I did care about. It was the legacy that had been passed down through three generations of our family, and like hell would I let it slip through the gutter on my watch. When the next generation of Cavenaughs took over, they would find this place solid and thriving.

Because of me.

This business was my family, my lover, and my only friend.