Page 39 of Corbin
Even worse, to bow down to the man she believed had her father killed.
The day she controlled her own money and life, she’d find the evidence she needed to put him in prison forever, but that would not be today.
She reached for her black Louis Vuitton tote, glad she had not scratched it today. She’d purchased the bag new six days ago and made a mental note to auction it off online this week under her secret account. That trick was one of the sneaky ways she generated money for her vulnerable women.
Leszek hated for her to spend so much on accessories. She smiled at being able to flaunt this bag in front of him before she sold it.
The mobile phone she used only for business played a depressing jingle.
Leaning back against the seat, she answered, “I have a bone to pick with you, Beckham.”
“Hello to you, too, Eirene.” The man in charge of her security sounded tired.
“Sorry for the lack of manners, but this day has sucked. Now, I’m headed in to meet with Leszek to plead for money onceagain.” She would not hide the disgust in her tone since Ivarson could hear nothing.
“Huh. I’ve had no trouble getting paid by the label.”
Of course, Leszek paid any other bill presented to her record label, especially Beckham’s. His men sent a daily report of every move she made. To many people, Leszek Moore personified a dignified businessman who managed her record label and finances with the same deft ability he’d used to build his medical empire.
Leszek had plenty of accolades. None of them impressed Eirene these days the way they had when she’d been a naïve child, one he still believed her to be.
When her trustee’s building came into view, she hurried the conversation along. “If you’re calling about the new men you added to my security team, you’re late. You also broke our deal of humans only.”
He made a grumbling sound but ignored her jab. They were both tired of arguing over how she hated having anyone dog her every step. “I’ll keep this short, Eirene, so you won’t be late for your meeting. I need these two men to—”
“No!” She stopped herself from ranting and lowered her voice to a more civil tone. “I do not want any more people getting in my way all day.”
“You agreed to this, but the humans-only part is not working,” he replied in a flat, stop-giving-me-a-hard-time tone.
Yes, she had, but she’d been willing to do anything to add a bonus charity event to each of the six venues on her tour. “I don’t want another man injured or killed. At this point, your people are endangering my tour.” She cringed at how cold that sounded, but she had a role to play and needed to give him a reason to wait before adding anyone else.
“I amveryconcerned about the welfare of my men.” He rarely let his emotions show. Reminding him of the deaths ontop of a third one injured had set him off. “If you want to know the truth, if I could, I would pull every one of them out of the field this minute, but I can’t. I find it appalling that you’re more worried about your tour than the men we’ve lost.”
“I didnotsay that!” she bit out, feeling a new vein of guilt slide through her. “I told you I don’t want anyone else harmed.”
Ivarson eased his way toward the covered entrance where vehicles dropped off and picked up passengers.
“I have to go, Beckham. We’ll discuss replacements later.”
“No, we won’t because I’ve put two new ones in place that I must have.”
“I’m out of time.” She ended the call rather than hear a rundown of their qualifications. At least he had not heard about the motorcyclist being arrested. She wanted to help her vulnerable female shifters, but she’d never wanted to hurt other people. Now she questioned how effective she’d be with a shifter watching her movements. Even if that motorcyclist got cut from the team, the other guy had to be a shifter too. Her heart sank. It had been difficult enough to carve out time to slip away from everyone to take care of her ladies with so many security guards watching her. She’d managed early on because the original security team had been bored and easy to evade.
Ivarson parked and opened her door facing the building.
We will help the women, Pixie said, having likely picked up on her anguish.
Her wolf had been with her through so much. Eirene would be lost without her.
Eirene hooked the designer tote bag on her shoulder and stepped out. Leszek would wrinkle his nose at her dirty shoes, but she’d had the last pair of expensive heels for almost three weeks. Keeping shoes pristine for resale was tough. They wouldn’t be as valuable with a scuff. If her feet weren’t killing her, she’d wear them one more time to confirm what her trusteebelieved—that she squandered an insane amount of money on high-priced designer clothes, shoes, and purses.
Before her dad died, he had included a generous budget for her business and performance clothes. She smiled over one thing her trustee couldn’t alter.
On the other hand, her father had kept her monthly income moderate because she had never needed anything while living in his house. She struggled with blaming him for her situation. He never planned on being murdered and their home getting sold, but he was the one who structured her trust fund.
She had a feeling Leszek had stood over his shoulder while her father made the edits.
Damn Leszek.
