I’m All Yours, Mr. Prescott

Twenty-Four Hours

Nathan’s POV

My office was supposed to be a place of a calm fortress. But today, it felt like a cage. The wide mahogany desk at the center of the space looked more imposing than usual. The floor-ceiling window that never fails to give me a sense of control whenever I looked out of it to the city below now offers no comfort.

Everything felt suffocating, the awards sitting pretty on the shelves, the polished leather chairs, the limited edition painting hanging from the wall, all of it seemed to be mocking me for the mess I had gotten myself into.

How did I let this happen?

I couldn't stop pacing around the room restlessly. Anytime I tried sitting, the memory of Mia’s face with her hand placed on her cheek that was flushed red flashed before me.

Angry. Betrayed. And in public, no less. My fists clenched tightly at the thoughts basking in my head, the regret I felt squeezing my chest tighter with each breath. I couldn't just believe that I lost my control in a public space, without pausing for a moment to think about the consequences that were likely to play out.

Gabriel sits across from me, leaning back on the plush, leather chair, but there was nothing relaxed about him today. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he was watching me like a ticking time bomb.

“Nate,” he finally speaks, his tone is hard, cutting through the haze of my thoughts. “This thing you did with Mia, is a nightmare, you know that, right?”

I stop mid-step, letting bitter laughter escape my mouth. “Trust me when I say I am fully aware of the horrific nightmare.”

“No, you don't get it,” Gabriel pressed on, leaning forward now. “It’s not just a few gossip articles. It is everywhere. The internet is on fire. You’ve got people dissecting every frame of what went down between you and Mia, then going on to give their opinion about it,” he said and paused for a while, his gaze caressing me in a hurtful manner.

“It’s a full-blown scandal already,” Gabriel added.

I sank into the chair behind my desk, running a hand through my rough hair, frustration clawing at me. “What do you want me to say, Gabe? I wasn't thinking straight. Everything just…exploded right in my face and I didn't know what to do because I never meant for it to get that bad.”

Gabriel let out a slow measured breath. “You are Nathan Prescott. You don't have the luxury of making mistakes neither do you have the luxury that would permit you not to think straight.” He stated, “You can't just blow up in public places like that. You know how this thing works. People are always watching, waiting for a moment like this to tear you down. And you just gave them the opportunity they have been looking for.”

He is right. I know he is right. But that doesn't stop the anger bubbling up inside me. “You think I don't know that?” I snapped, slamming my fist down on the desk. The sound echoes around the office but it does nothing to ease the tension hanging in the silence that ensued.

“I know I screwed up, okay? I know I let my emotions get the better part of me, but at that point, I wasn't thinking about my reputation, the insult she threw at me was very much unbearable, it was tarnishing and…”

“And you saw no better way to react than slapping her hard across her face?” Gabriel interrupted, his eyebrows creasing together till they formed a knot in the middle of his head.

I sucked my teeth loudly.

Gabriel shook his head as he stood up and started pacing the room. “You can't afford to make an emotional decision, Nate. Not when you're…” his words hung in the air as if the weight I carry was too heavy for him to talk about.

Nathan Prescott, heir to the Prescott empire. One mistake and the wall starts closing in, that is the weight on my shoulders for me to bear.

“You’ve got to fix this fast,” Gabriel went on to say.

I was about to respond to what Gabriel said when the door burst open with a force that rattled the glass walls. The heavy sound of footsteps kissing the marble floor fills the room instantly. My father, Reginald Prescott, stormed into the room, face a mask of fury.

Reginald did not say a word to any of us as he crossed the room to where I was, and without any warning, he struck a slap across my face, the sound of it reverberating around the room.

I staggered back, shocked by the force of his hardened, rough palm hitting my face like a freight train.

“What the hell were you thinking boy?!” Reginald roared, his voice booming with authority, and also a mixture of disappointment and rage. “How could you let something so careless, so stupid, happen?”

I straightened up myself, rubbing my cheek, where the sting of the slap still lingered. My father has never been the one to hold back on even the slightest mishaps, so I wasn't expecting him to do any less now.

“Do you have any idea what you have done?” he went on, his voice cold and cutting. “Galveston Group, The company you were about to sign a multi-million dollar deal has seen the scandal,” he paused to catch his breath, “They’re ready to back out, saying they can't trust their investment in the hand of someone who can't control his personal affairs.”

My stomach dropped. The deal with Galveston Group was a massive one, a pivotal moment for my career.

“The only reason they haven't pulled the plug is because of the relationship I have built with them over the years,” Reginald continued, his eyes burning into me. “They have given you twenty-four hours, twenty-four damn hours to fix this mess, or they walk.”

Reginald took a step closer to me, his towering presence dominating the room. “And if you fail,” his voice dropped to a dangerously low tone, “I’ll make sure you never get another chance to sit at the head of this company again. You will end up being nothing, do you hear me? Nothing.”

With this final threat of his hanging in the air, Reginald turned on his heels and stormed out of the office, leaving a tense silence behind. The door slammed behind him, the sound of it ringing in the room long after he had gone.

Gabriel looked up at me, a concerned look etched across his face. “How are you going to fix this, Nate? You’ve got twenty-four hours.”

Still reeling from my father's words, I sluggishly straightened up myself. “Watch me.”