Page 53 of Fractured Loyalties
ROMAN
I should be with Ivy.I shouldn’t be here.
But my father has me running deals constantly now with Kade held over my head, and Edward gets to takemylittle lamb to school. I have to fix this problem, but not atthisparticularmoment.
Tonight, I have to deal with a man my father refers to as“our most promising investor.”
Really, he’s a fucking idiot. He looks like a meth addict who lucked into an Armani suit at the Salvation Army.
I sit in the Range Rover as the guy paces in a patch of broken moonlight near the loading bay, clutching a battered briefcase that looks as if it might fall apart at any second. I check my phone. I’m ten minutes late, just as I planned to be. It’s better to keep the people whoowe younervous, and the ones you owe happy.
He finally spots me after he takes a moment to look around. I flash the headlights at him once, then twice, and he comes jogging up to the driver’s side window. I roll it down.
“Roman,” he breathes out, voice three octaves higher than the last time I heard it. “I wasn’t sure?—”
“Cut the shit,” I tell him, leaning over close enough that his aftershave burns my eyes. “Do you have it?”
He fumbles with the case and clicks it open with trembling fingers. The cash inside is stacked in bundles, rubber-banded tight, the way only the truly paranoid do it. I can see the veins in his hands as he holds it out.
“It’s all there. I swear. Tell your father that you know, I don’t owe him the full amount?—”
I grab the case and snap it shut, cutting him off. “He’ll know,” I say, because honestly, I don’t give a shit. I know my father shortchanges everyone. For everything. Every time
The squirrelly guy licks his lips and then glances over his shoulder. “There’s… been talk,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “About you. About your family. People say?—”
“They say a lot of things,” I interrupt. “None of it matters.”
He tries to smile, but it slides off his face in a weird, twitchy way. “Right. Right. But it involves…Bad, badthings…”
I watch him for a moment—wondering, just for fun, if he’ll shit himself when I don’t leave right away. But he stands his ground. Which means, maybe, he’s got more to lose than his life.
I lean closer, leaning into his ear. “If you know what’s best for you, you’ll keep your mouth shut.”
He nods, and for a second, I can smell the ammonia of his sweat. I pull away and roll the window up. When I look back, he’s already disappeared into the shadows.
I drive home with the windows cracked, letting the cold wind numb my face—the city blurs by, neon and sodium vapor, every block darker than the last. My mind spins, trying to go back to Ivy, but all I can think about is how the guy said it’s not the full amount…
And I have to deal with that, with my father, before I can have Ivy.
I fucking hate my life.
The guards at the gate of the estate nod as I pull in, but I don’t bother to acknowledge them. I park in the driveway, grab the case, and head inside.
I don’t look around as I am focused solely on business. I get to my father’s office and enter without knocking. He is sitting behind his desk as usual, already waiting, a glass in his hand, and his face lit from below like some demon in a bedtime story.
I drop the briefcase on the desk. The thud echoes like a gunshot.
“Sit,” he says, not looking up from his drink.
I do, sinking into a chair upholstered in ox-blood leather. He waits a full minute before opening the case. Then, he flips through the stacks, his fingers quick and sure. When he gets to the end, he closes the case and sets it aside. He doesn’t say anything for a while, just stares at me over the rim of his glass.
“This is short,” he finally says.
“Investor claims he was owed for last month’s shortages,” I say, keeping my tone even.
He stares at me harder, the lines around his mouth deepening. “Do you believe him?”
“I’m just the pickup man,” I say. “It’s what he said.”
