Page 23 of Ruthless Legacy

The light reflects off his Grand Master Chime, as he flicks his wrist, swirling the drink in his glass. That sucker would buy a lot of toys, clothes, shoes, and backpacks in Red Cliffs and Palisade Shores. I take another look around the restaurant. Would anyone notice if I slipped it off his wrist?

“Your grandfather has already accepted his role.” He says, bringing my attention back to the conversation and off of my rudimentary plan to steal his watch.

“First off, he’s not my grandfather. I don’t even know that man. Second, and more importantly,heaccepted the role. For himself. He doesn’t speak for me. He didn’t even discuss this with me until after he gave you an answer. I can make my own choices, and I’m telling you like I told him, my answer isno.” I tack on “Thank you.” To show I’m not a complete heathen.

Papa Pax is hard to read, but his lunch buddy isn’t. He’s ready to explode. And that’s how I knew he wasn’t in charge. He doesn’t know how to keep his cool when faced with challenging circumstances.

Old man Pax is effortlessly at ease in this situation. “Might I ask why?”

“Why what?”

“Why you would say no to this opportunity?”

“Because playing toy soldier doesn’t align with my lifelong goals.”

He takes a measured sip of his drink before saying, “Tell me about them.”

“I want to be an archaeologist.”

The guy I’m now mentally referring to as a minion, because he’s squat with a unibrow, snickers. “You can be a guardian and look at artifacts in museums in your off time.”

Maybe minion gives him too much credit. Those little guys are short, but they’re not short on imagination. “Why would anyone just want to look at them when they can be out in the world,findingthem?”

Old man Pax slides back into the conversation. “What are you studying in school?”

“Forensics, anthropology, ancient societies and civilizations.” I shrug. “The usual stuff, so I’ll be able detect a fake artifact.”

My food comes. Before digging into my Salade Niçoise, I ask, “So, are we good, or do I need to inbox you?”

“I will take your response back to chambers so we can note it in our official records. Just to be clear, the decision you make affects everyone in your family in the future.”

I wave him off. “They gave me away as a baby and the Nevada Courts had custody of me from age seven to eighteen, so technically, I don’t have a family. I’m only making decisions about me. And if needing someone young to go to this guardian program is a requirement to unfreeze the bloodline, then wouldn’t the responsibility fall to other relatives or whatever?”

It’s fleeting, but I see the surprise in his eyes, before he puts his godfather mask back on. “Yes. That is correct. Joshua has other relatives. The next oldest male in the family could assume the title.”

He does? Shit, I was just spit balling. No wonder Papa Pax looked surprised. “Why didn’t he? You know, while Joshua was gone, why didn’t anyone else step up?”

“Joshua refused to abdicate his position. It’s why the bloodline was suspended. Upon his death, it would then pass to his cousin. The son of his aunt, since she’s unable to assume the title, and it would be at the level the Laurent’s were last active.”

“Unable? As in, physically or mentally incapacitated?”

The minion says, “Unable, because she’s not a man.”

Of course, because male misogyny reigns supreme. “Thank you.”

“For?”

“For explaining it to me.” I plug my ears with my EarPods and tuck into my food. These men are something else. They’re up here trying to make me fill some role as a guardian. I’m good enough to die for their pampered asses, yet women can’t be in their little dead fowl club.

Papa Pax and his minion leave sometime during my meal, and when I ask for the check, I’m told it’s taken care of. One guess who paid. I smile politely and tell the server, “Please reverse the charge on Mr. Cox’s card and only bill him for his meal.”

His face falls, and he stammers he can’t. I refuse to let him pay for my food again, so I keep pressing the issue. It takes talking to the manager and threatening to review bomb their establishment on my fake social media profile to get it done.

I chuckle as I leave the restaurant. I didn’t think I’d have to pull that con again. My fake influencer profile was set up to help me get access to some of the hottest places in Vegas when I was on jobs. With the exception of my photo, all the details on it are fake. Sasha is the one managing the account. The posts are fake, but the comments and engagement are not.

Chapter13

Finn

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