Page 46 of Parker
Drayton appears as instructed after the Parker Fashion staff has left. Boyd accompanies him into my office, closing the door and flicking the latch.
“What happened?” I growl before he can sit. The older man doesn’t flinch, merely stares back with blank eyes.
“An incident.” His tone is casual, with no hint of remorse that this shit happened under his watch. According to him, it’s always an incident. I’m sure it’s one of the few big words he knows in the English language.
“Incident? The police have been at my bloody office every week for a month. I can only deflect so many goddamn questions before they investigate further.” He shrugs, and my fury builds to my breaking point.
“Play with fire, Parker, you’re going to get burned. That was something your father understood.”
That sends me over the edge. I pick up a glass sitting from my morning orange juice and hurl it across the room. It smashes off the door, missing Boyd’s head by an inch.
“This has fuck all to do with my father. Remember who you’re speaking to.” He sniggers, one calloused hand rising to cover his mouth as if to hide what he wants me to see.
“The monkey,” he goads. “Your mother is the organ grinder. Maybe spend some time in our world, and you’ll understand what we’re dealing with, boy.”
That hits home.
The insult cuts through years of buried doubt. The insecurity I keep hidden dragged out into the light. To men like Drayton, I’m the rich kid who lost control and failed to step into his father’s shoes. The pathetic disappointment. The outsider.
But they’re wrong. I’m no boy, not anymore. I have strength on my side. Power in my hands. And I don’t think twice.
The gun I keep hidden under my desk lies at my fingertips. I pull it from its resting place slowly, placing it on the top. Boyd steps forward from his position at the door. He’s been watching silently as the scenario plays out.
“I may not be my father,” I say, never taking my eyes off the dickhead in my office. “But I have his blood, and I assure you if the need arises, I can be just as ruthless, more so even.”
He laughs out loud. His hands on his knees as he bends over, hysterical. “I’d pay to see that.”
On instinct, I lift the gun and walk round my desk to stand in front of him. My arm lifts so the muzzle of the weapon rests on his forehead. I release the safety. Every man in the room takes a breath, including me.
“I may not be my father,” I repeat. “But I was educated the same. Not having the nature doesn’t mean I don’t have the skills.” I flex my finger on the trigger. It clicks. “Be careful.”
Drayton balks.
“I’m sorry, sir,” he stammers, and it sounds fucking good. I lower the gun, then return to my chair.
“As I was saying, your idiots let Lorenzo Worth get in the building and damaged his leg on the way out.” He doesn’t take his eyes off mine. “Keep the club’s nose clean. Or you’re out.”
His brows knit together as his face darkens, caught somewhere between shock and fury, I think. The unexpected fright from moments ago has passed.
“The place is a brothel. I keep it as clean as I can. Play with the devil and it’s the risk we take. If you think the police don’t know what we do, you’re an idiot. Most of the force is on our bloody membership list.”
“That’s meant to protect us. So, tighten the procedures. Don’t let anyone in who smells at all bad. And keep your ear to the ground, instead of your cock in the produce.”
He stands and walks toward me, hackles raised. I tap the gun still sitting on my desk, then stand.
“Drayton, don’t push me. I know your nights are spent balls deep in the girls and not managing the club. Sort it.” We’re nose to nose, similar in height and stature. If things kick off, it would be an even match. “Remember who your boss is,” I remind him, and he backs down.
My aggressor turns away, and as he does, I catch Boyd’s eye.
He smiles, nodding with a hint of pride, real pride.
I stepped up today. He knows it, and so do I. Now it’s time to show the world the changed man I am.
Chapter twenty-one
Glasgow, Scotland
Joel
