Page 33 of Crazy Rich Monsters (Necessary Evils 1)

Calloway Industries is a nearly billion-dollar business and yet the office décor has always left a little something to be desired. It’s barren, the hallways painted a stale white. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. Anybody with a working cell in their brains knows that it’s never a good idea to call my father out on his bullshit. Unfortunately for both him and me, I inherited his DNA.

As I reach the end of the hallway, I reach for the door and swing it open, making a showstopping scene. My father is lounged back in his chair having what looks like a casual meeting with a man that’s far too dressed up for it barely being noon. I’ve never understood the business world and the antiquated relic of a rule that everyone must be dressed to the nines at any given time.

“My apologies, Mr. Salazar,” Father says to his client or friend. Hard to decipher which. He stands up from his chair, armed with the gaze of death. If looks could kill… He grabs me by the arm and pulls me towards the door. “Can’t you see that I’m busy?”

“That’s interesting.” I point backwards, down the hall. “Your secretary didn’t mention that you were with anyone. You should probably have a talk with her about that.”

“I’ll be sure to bring that up at her next review.”

I cock my head sideways, curious. “Will that be happening after hours?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Two women in a week.” I wag my finger at him, disapprovingly. It’s all a joke to me. Why should I care that he hasn’t been faithful since his wedding night if Mother doesn’t give a shit. “You’ve always been a dirty dog, but this is a new low.”

The death grip he has on my arm tightens. “What’s gotten into you, son?”

“Yeah, we’re going to get into that soon enough.” I clear my throat as I break away from him, making a beeline for the man in the chair. I reach out to shake his hand with a too-tight grip that forces a wince out of him. “What did you say your name was again?”

“I didn’t.”

“It’s Mr. Salazar, right?” I help guide him to his feet and offer him a pat on the back as I guide him towards the front door. “I’m sorry to interrupt your meeting that’s very important, I’m sure. Unfortunately, there’s been a family emergency.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“A death in the family,” I lie through my teeth.

“My condolences,” he says first to me and then repeats it to my father as if saying it twice will somehow make things better.

“Not necessary. Many of us are relieved to see Grandma go.”

I slam the door on his face and turn to my father, unable to hide the smile plastered on my face. He’s not quite as amused. That’s to say there’s steam whooshing from his ears.

“What in the hell is wrong with you?” He corners me against the door. There’s the faintest hint of whiskey on his breath. Guess that’s why there’s an open bottle of whiskey on the desk. The best deals are made when the other person is drunk, I suppose. “Are you back on drugs?”

“I tried cocaine a few times, but I wouldn’t ever say I’ve had a problem,” I say deadpan.

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough harm for the time being? I don’t understand what’s gotten into you. First, you ruin your mother’s event--”

Yeah, that’s enough of that. “You were the one in control of the media,” I remind him. “How did that video end up on that screen?”

“I don’t appreciate the accusation--”

I cut him off, having no intention of letting him drive the course of this conversation. He’d rather drive us both off the cliff than to admit the truth.

“And I’m not particularly happy that my ass was shown to the entirety of the Hamptons. Are you trying to push me out?”

He cackles wildly. It’s the same laugh that sometimes slips from my own throat when I’ve done something particularly devious. “If I wanted you out, you’d be out. Do you have any idea who your father is? I own this place. If I didn’t want you here, you wouldn’t be here.”

Given that we’re standing in his office, he could very well mean he could have me escorted out of the building. That’s not what we’re talking about though. We’re talking about exile, and he absolutely has the power to do that. He’s done it to others for a lot less.

“You sent me away to boarding school when I was twelve. You’ve kept me away from this place for my entire life. Don’t pretend like my actions are to blame for whenever you cast me out.”

“You’re here now, aren’t you?”

“Thank you, Master,” I scoff. “Thank you for allowing your own flesh and blood to take up space in the precious world you’ve built for yourself.”

“Watch your tone. I can make you disappear like so many others.”

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