Page 9 of Sinful Beauty

“Of course we do.”

The doors open on the next floor and a middle-aged woman in a sweater dress and tall boots enters. My mother and her exchange curt, formal nods. No words. She either doesn’t work for my mother or she’s an underling.

I often wonder what my grandfather would think of my parents selling to a conglomerate. They tried to blame it on me. If I would not join the firm, why keep it as a private family company? But, off at boarding school, I recognized that proclamation for what it was. A way to deflect guilt. My father didn’t have to sell. He’d inherited plenty. But the proceeds from selling set him into the stratosphere. A financial windfall that placed him among the wealthiest of the wealthy.

Mom’s desire to continue working mystifies him. As she charges down the hallway to an interconnecting passage that will lead us into Lumina’s corporate tower, I can’t help but wonder how well he knows his wife of forty-odd years. I’m not an expert on my mother, but I recognize that it’s in these hallowed halls she comes to life.

“How many here did you raise?”

She side eyes me and I halfway expect her to reach up and pop me on the back of my head. If I weren’t out of her reach, she’d probably do it.

“Remember Tristan, you belong here, but you still need to earn your place.”

Inside Lumina’s headquarters, the number of suits increases exponentially. Shoes tap and subdued voices hum. It’s hard to believe that amongst all these ordinary-looking citizens is an employee, or likely employees, who hired an assassin and is responsible for three known murders.

We pass a series of desks facing each other along a long hallway leading up to twelve foot black doors. One of the doors is ajar, and my mother pushes it.

“Nelson,” my mom announces.

An older man with thin white hair and spectacles looks over his computer. He’s missing the youth I expected from a man my mother purportedly raised, but then again, I arrived here from her womb and I’m on the shady side of my thirties. But this man must be in his late fifties. My mother turns sixty-six next month.

“Where’s your assistant?”

I glance back at the two desks that line the sides of the executive hallway leading to Nelson Peltz’s office. One has a computer monitor, the other is vacant.

“She’s away on an errand.” Nelson stands and comes around his desk to embrace my mother and her kiss her on both cheeks. “How are you doing? You look lovely. My god, Victoria, you simply do not age.”

The man is a kisser of arses, but his thin frame and timid nature don’t strike me as possessing a personality that would remain calm after ordering a hit. Unless he’s a psychopath.

“And I take it this is your son. It’s been such a long time.”

Ah, he’s one of those. He met me in my youth and expects I shall remember him.

“Yes. I must thank you for bringing me on.”

There’s something there in his expression that puts me on guard, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. I only have a second to read into it, because he’s off to close the door we left open.

Nelson returns to his desk and sits on the edge, facing us. He’s propped himself next to the brass nameplate that reads Nelson Peltz in engraved letters. A fantastic name, that one.

“So, Tristan, your mother tells me you’ve developed quite the fascination with research.” My gaze remains fixed on Nelson, but the insolent boy in me wants nothing more than to shoot my mother a glare.

“Quite.”

“And is there a specific project of ours that has garnered your fascination?”

Now here I need to be careful. I need to play the spoiled trust fund kid, but I need to come across as worthy of being hired. I should be quite pissed if I’m stuck pushing the mail cart for the next three months.

“It’s my understanding that Lumina’s research division is one of the most respected in the world. I’d love to better understand how the source of the competitive advantage.” His eyes narrow behind his spectacles. “I remember my grandfather taking me through the product research process and I’m curious how it’s changed since his time.”

“If you don’t have the answers to that, then your fascination with research has been skin deep.”

“Ouch.” I offer a gentleman’s jesting smile. “Quite so. I have much to learn.”

“We can’t put him in a lead position.” Nelson addresses my mother as if I’m not in the room. I can’t help but feel that I fell right into a trap with the first question out of his mouth, but I’m not looking to lead the company. I’m not even seeking to lead a department.

“Nelson.” My mother says his name with a heavy reprimand. I search his face for any awareness that he’s about to get it. “There’s no one I trust more than you to teach him everything he needs to know. I expect you to do for him what I did for you.”

“We have interns with more knowledge and skills.” Have to give it to the man. He’s not backing down. Pass me a bag of popcorn.

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