Page 50 of Cruel Existence

“Papa,” I tried to quieten him.

He ignored me. “I couldn’t risk losing the key piece. Not on the very first deal. Not when this one matters more than all the others.”

My stomach flipped. I couldn’t eat the oyster. I placed it on the bread plate. What in the hell was going on with him?

“Can you just tell me?” I asked. I’d never be able to guess.

My stomach plunged to another level when I heard a saxophone begin to play. I searched the restaurant. The artist was outside on the street. The shutters had been thrown open. I wasn’t the only one who noticed his playing. Small smiles lingered on the guests.

“Amara? You seem distracted. I’m trying to tell you something important. Something about your future.”

“No, go ahead. You have my attention,” I lied, tearing my head from the window and zeroing in on my father. “I’d like to know about your game of chess.”

“Good. Good. These are the life lessons that are the most important. Because I’ve made a decision. A big decision about your future.”

“Which is?” I said a quick prayer that he hadn’t met a premiere New Orleans bachelor.

He took his time making his way around the tray of oysters. “See, I’ve realized something about you, Amara. If your mother were here, she would have said I told you so. She loved to tell me when she was right.”

I blinked. He never mentioned my mother. Never.

“You are a valuable asset to the company. In fact, so valuable that Gio and I have talked it over. You’re going to be the face of the company.”

“I don’t think I understand.” I reached for the glass of champagne. My mouth was suddenly dry.

It always bothered me the way he held his knife in his fist as if he used it to bludgeon someone rather than spread butter or cut a steak.

“You’ve picked up on the details and the reports quickly. You beat out every man in the city today for that hotel. And let’s face it, I’ve had more bad days than good lately. I’ve had to start considering that.”

He wouldn’t say out loud what was going on with his health, but the reference was clear. I knew I couldn’t ask questions about the pills that remained next to his nightstand.

“Papa—”

He raised his hand, still balling the knife in his fist. “Hear me out.”

I nodded. “Okay, I’m listening.”

“You might be able to secure a good merger with a good New Orleans family, but you’re young. There’s no reason to limit what you could do by setting up a marriage too soon.”

I knew my eyes bulged. I couldn’t help it. “Really?” It was the first time I felt a glimmer of joy. A peak at sunlight again in over a week since I was thrown out of Luka’s bed.

“The Novikovs played too many games. You are better than them anyway. They rule by fear. Guns. Military training. That’s not our way.” He finished off his champagne.

“What? What does this have to do with the Novikovs?” Specifically, I wanted to know about Luka. The restaurant seemed to darken. I could no longer hear the sax player. My pulse raced.

“I want the power in this town. I’m going to have it,” he stated. “My choices are to take everything from Dmitry Novikov, or to join forces with the bastard. I started by offering him a family merger. I was willing to give him my only child.”

My hands began to shake. “You made a formal offer? For me?”

“I did. But his son refused it.” He seemed happy. Gleeful. “He said he didn’t want you.”

“What?” How did the world keep opening up and sucking me through the floor? When would it stop? “When did you do this?” I gritted my teeth.

“He had up until the auction to make a decision. I thought it was a gracious amount of time for the Novikovs to consider the benefits of a merger.”

“No. When did you make the offer to Luka?” I pressed for details. I had to force myself to accept what my father was telling me.

His stare was blank. “The day he stopped by the house. Our first meeting. We had drinks in the study, and I wrote the letter to Dmitry.”

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