Page 46 of Sinister Devotion

"What the fuck was that about?" Fiona's eyes bounce from Claire to me and over her shoulder to Edward, who's talking into an earpiece with the rest of our security personnel.

"He's looking for a quote." Claire sighs.

"Yeah, about that," Fiona's confusion is still evident in the way she scrunches her brows together. "How are we going to manage the campaign while fighting to keep these real estate deals from falling apart, but also building the affordable housing complexes?"

"We're not getting into politics," I tell them all with finality.

"What's this?" Fiona asks, peering at the folder on the desk. She picks it up, flicking through the pages, scrutinizing Claire's work and I don't like it. The sound of the folder slapping against the desk amplifies her anger. "I've been asking you for months to put together my own project, but she gets to create an entire arm of the company?"

"Fiona," I bristle, not wanting to field her impending tantrum.

"Why isn't there anyone out here to greet me?" Charleston's voice booms from outside my door.

Claire growls, heading to my phone to call security back to my office.

"You have got to be kidding me." Fiona's lips curl in disgust when my father walks into the office.

"What'd you say, Fee-fee? Put a kid in ya? No, thank you, I'm too old to be chasing little ones around," Charleston replies with a boisterous laugh at his own joke.

"Oh, there isn't an angel or a demon in heaven or hell that would ever get me to have your body thrusting anywhere near me. Besides, we all know you're not interested in raising children. Rumor has it you preferred fucking them over every chance you got as a criminal court judge. Look at how that ended," Fiona throws a jab at my father's forced retirement which doesn't bode well for any of us.

"Enough. Fiona, your proposed project was for a reality show, a mockumentary that was too invasive of a concept. If you have something profitable, either financially, or in generating a positive public profile for Nuvola, please, get it to me as soon as possible. Thank you, that will be all."

She huffs and flips her hair over her shoulder. "But we haven't even discussed why I came in here. Three more deals I put through for your personal portfolio are now under scrutiny by an insurance company. Something about a previously filed fraudulent claim and they're now looking at the new owner of the property to indemnify them."

"Get legal on the line and figure it out with them. Charleston, you can get out. And Claire? Take this philanthropy proposal down to accounting and have them help you point out ways to fix it up for the Executive Board." I just need her out of my office while my father is here.

Fiona rolls her eyes and storms out of the room with Claire following her, clutching the folder to her chest as a buffer against Charleston's lurid gaze. Charleston moves closer to the door when Edward steps in his way, giving Claire enough time to exit the office.

"I was just going to close the door," Charleston replies. "Jules, tell your pit bull to back off."

I nod at Edward for him to leave, a silent thank you between us for putting himself on the line for Claire. If Charleston were in a worse mood, he and Edward might have fought.

Thankfully, Charleston's mind is elsewhere as he closes the door and approaches my desk. The thick manila envelope he pulls out of his pocket doesn't give me much hope for the rest of this conversation. He shoves it in my hand and I immediately know the familiar bulk of money inside.

"What the fuck is this for?" I ask him, shoving it back into his hand.

"Your first campaign contribution." His nonchalance grates my nerves.

The adamancy in my tone should be enough to end this discussion. "There is no campaign. I'm not running for office."

"You don't have a choice, Julian." Charleston sits down, crossing his feet at the ankles and leaning back in the chair. His white hair, a face that mirrors what mine could be in thirty years. "If you don't, Dr. Mescal's tapes are going to be released."

My heart plummets, anxiety swirls along with my office as everything I discussed with her floods into my mind like a freight train. All of a sudden, my carefully crafted and controlled demeanor unravels to let eleven-year-old Julian consume my emotions. My face heats and my eyes sting, and then I take a deep breath.

"So, what?" I murmur. The desire to have people like me or understand me fades with every passing second.

The way Charleston shifts immediately to sit up straighter shows he's unprepared to fight against my declining his offer under threat of blackmail.

"Exposing my secrets means exposing yours," I tell him.

Something clicks in that devious mind of his, as he returns to his posture of nonchalance. He laces his fingers together with a frustrating grin spreading over a face I despise. "Does Claire know what her father is guilty of? Is she prepared for the fallout of your demented sex kinks? You three hid guns and bodies for your Uncle Armande, and blackmailed me, a prominent judge, after shooting him in the back."

"Only after you nearly beat me to death," I growl, ferociously trying to protect what's left of the inner child who deserves it.

"Well, how was I supposed to know your friend was homeless and not your, uh, whatever?"

"YOU COULD HAVE ASKED!" My voice explodes, booming loudly to the point Edward bursts into my office. My breathing is ragged and I'm happy Claire's not here to see me like this.

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