Page 36 of All for her Forgiveness

The idea, without me understanding why, leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, perhaps because the bastard is old enough to be her grandfather.

"I hope you have good labor lawyers on your payroll," I say, pissed off as everyone present turns to observe her as if she were a piece of meat in a butcher's shop. "You'll need them if this is how you treat your employees."

Right after excusing herself, she leaves without looking back, and in my head, the meeting is also over. It's no longer just about the issue with the Sicilian mafia but because I don't do business with abusers. It's obvious that the man uses his position to get involved with employees.

Yes, because no one will convince me that twenty-year-old girls go to bed with seventy-year-old men out of pure passion. They probably shower them with gifts and promises and then discard them when they're no longer useful.

I'm not exactly the kind of choice a woman should make if she wants to get married and have a family, but I play fair. I never make promises I don't intend to keep, and I don’t deceive. I also never impose myself on someone who works for me. It's an unequal relationship and one from which many women wouldn't know how to escape.

"I have no reason to worry about that," the jerk says. "She's been through the whole casino, and as they say, she's good at what she does," he continues, and I want to punch him for talking about a woman like that.

I don't care who she fucks. What are we? Fucking teenagers who need to gossip about who we take to bed?

"Our meeting is over, gentlemen," I say, getting up before I can no longer control my anger.

All of us Kostanidou have a side that the rest of society is unable to detect.

A trace of psychopathy? Maybe.

The fact is that, of the four of us brothers, I am undoubtedly the one who would easily cross the line between legal and criminal if I believed that the end justified the means.

"You didn't make your proposal," one of the partners says as he realizes he’s lost me.

"Simply because I don't have one to make."

I see the jerk who spoke about the girl finger his shirt collar, as if he's feeling suffocated, and I confirm that it's not that they want to sell the casinos, theyneedto, probably because the Sicilians are about to tear their heads off.

"Hades, we can negotiate. What's the problem? The price?"

I'm already at the door, but I turn back. "I don't negotiate with people I don’t consider worthy of the air they breathe."

Kennedy

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Past

I waituntil I turn a corner in the carpeted hallway before I finally drop the mask of feigned calmness I've been wearing since I entered the meeting room.

I lean against the wall, taking deep breaths. I'm trembling, and maybe all the events of the past few days are finally hitting me.

The last fight I had with Aunt Riny and then her death.

The uncertainty about the future and the need to tell myself every morning that I'm strong and can handle whatever life throws at me.

The loneliness, because apart from Mr. Ernest, I have no one left.

And then, to top off a chaotic week, being humiliated in front of strangers, as if working in a casino wearing skimpy clothes meant I welcomed harassment.

I don't know how much time I spend there with my eyes closed, my jaw clenched to keep from crying.

I never allow myself to show weakness, but I'm far too overwhelmed to pretend. I know I can't continue working after what just happened, but I'd be a liar if I didn't confess that I'm truly terrified. After getting paid at the end of the week, I have nothing else coming, and this sudden unemployment might postpone my plans to leave New Orleans for a long time.

"Look who's relaxing instead of doing their job!"

I open my eyes, startled, and my fear increases when I see that the disgusting manager who's been harassing me, Greytak, is only inches away from my face, one arm on each side of the wall, creating a sort of trap.

I can't move without touching him.

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