Page 6 of Five
“He’s a fucking idiot. God knows how the hell he built the business up with an attitude like that.”
“Because he’s ruthless.” Evangeline’s words send a shiver of apprehension down my spine.
“Maybe the time I’m away will soften him.”
She looks at me. “You’re going to Harvard, then?”
I shrug. “Only because I want to get out of this house,” I mutter, darkly.
Three years later.
“Dad, I’mnotjoining the family business.“ It’s the same old argument. I don’t know why either of us think the outcome will have changed. He sure as hell hasn’t.
My father fists his hands on his desk and leans forwards. “Then I will cut you off without a penny.”
I roll my eyes. He thinks that threat is the answer to everything, but there are more important things than money, as far as I’m concerned, and being happy is high up there on my list.
I willnotbe happy having my life dictated by this prick. He’s already trying to coerce poor Evangeline into a marriage that is more about a business merger than anything she might want.
It’s got to stop.
The man’s a god damn megalomaniac, and at fifty, he still has far more years on the board than I’m prepared to be under his thumb for.
“Well, lucky for me, I have a top shelf Harvard education that I can use to pay my own way.”
“Don’t bank on it,” my father growls, but I ignore him as I walk out of my childhood home, dig my car keys out of my pocket, and head back to my apartment.
I swing past my favorite Italian restaurant and order takeout on my way home.
The hostess winces as she rings me up. “I’m sorry, Sir. Your card’s been declined.”
What the fuck?
I scowl and dig a couple of bills out of my wallet, and stalk out, calling the card company from my vehicle’s integrated hands free network while I finish the journey. I’m pretty sure I already know what has happened, but I should confirm.
“It seems your card has been frozen by the account holder.”
Fucking Dad didn’t waste any time.
Well, game on. Looks like it’s time to send out some resumes.
Two weeks later, I’m looking at yet another rejection. I’ve lost count of how many that is now.
I’m still pondering my next move when I get another nasty shock.
There’s a hammering on the door and I open it to two burly security types.
“Good afternoon, Sir. We’re here to escort you off the premises.”
“What the fuck?” Shock does not make me polite.
He hands me a document which I start scanning through. “The owner has stated that you no longer have the authority to remain here.”
“Myfather, you mean.“ I spit the word, in disgust, before shoving the eviction order back in his hand and walking back into the apartment.
A meaty arm attempts to stop me, and I look from the hand on my bicep, to the face of the thuggish guy it belongs to. “I assume I’m still allowed to collect my belongings.”
“Personal items, only… and we’re going to need your car keys, too.”
