Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 127146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
"What?" I bark.
Lee speaks this time. "Do you want one of us to go with you?"
I almost laugh. Almost. And have my friends watch my father and his goons beat the shit out of me when I invariably say something sarcastic? No, thank you.
I stand and turn to the door with more urgency now so they don't force their way in. "No, thank you. I'll be back in a few hours. If I’m not, you know where to come looking.”
“If you need anything, call us,” Aries states matter-of-factly.
I nod, even if the chance of doing it is slim to none. At least they give a shit about me. Thankfully, neither of them try to stop me from leaving. The driver knows me and doesn't bother coming to open the door. I slide into the back seat, the leather creaking as I shuffle across the seat to sit on the far side.
There's a bar on the opposite side of the limo, and I snag the bottle of high-end whiskey my father keeps there.
He takes me to my father's office. A high-rise downtown with a nice view of the city. He owns the building but only uses a portion of it for his investment firm. He also has several apartments in the building, no doubt so he can keep his mistresses off our family estate outside of town. Once we pull up to the valet, I slow my pace, again taking my time before I get out and go inside. I didn't bother dressing up, wearing a pair of joggers, my boots, my university T-shirt, and my worn letter jacket. My appearance alone is going to piss him off. I know this, and somehow, I don’t give a fuck. Maybe I have a death wish? Maybe I’m waiting for my father to end all of this for me?
My father meets me on the ground floor, which is… unusual.
He's wearing a wide fake-ass smile as he claps me on the shoulder. "Drew, my son. Glad you were able to take a break from school to come in for a visit."
His tone is just as fake as the smile he wears. It's all an act for his firm, for the security guards, everyone. From his slicked-back hair to the pair of leather loafers on his feet, every piece of him is a well-constructed image.
I know the part I'm supposed to play, but I just don't have it in me at the moment. "What do you want, Dad?"
His eyes narrow at my bite on the word, Dad, but he doesn't let his smile slip. "Come, let’s go to my office. We have a couple of things to discuss."
My legs feel like there are cinder blocks tied to them. I already know where this is going to go, but I don’t have another option. I can come willing or go by force, but I’ll end up inside his office one way or another. Blowing out a breath, I trudge forward.
We get into the elevator, and I keep my distance, leaning into the shiny chrome walls.
"Want to fill me in on what’s going on?" I ask, knowing the answer already.
"You'll find out soon enough. Patience, Son. It's an asset you'll need to cultivate when you follow me into this business."
We spend the rest of the short ride to the top floor in silence. Thankfully.
We exit the elevator together, and I shove my hands into my pockets as we walk through the lobby of his office. When we pass by a few cubicles and desks, his employees give me tight smiles, and my father makes a note, nodding to anyone and everyone who meets his eyes.
His hands come to my shoulder like he's the proud father escorting his son through his office. Showing him off like a prized cow at the state fair.
I cringe at the touch but follow along, knowing full well that if I make a show of dissent, the punishment will make me unable to play football for days. Hell, I probably won’t be able to show my face at school for days. With that knowledge, I turn my grimace into a neutral line and continue my descent into hell.
It's a slight maze of desks until we reach the last area that opens into a line of offices with a view. Of course, my father has the best office and view.
I walk in, shaking off his hand. I recognize the lady from one of my father’s parties. I saw him talking to her. She’s the one with the daughter who wanted to climb me like a damn tree. I give her a nod and throw myself down into the leather chair in front of the desk.
She surveys me, not in the same way my father does when he checks to see if I'm wearing what he wants or if I’ve taken any injuries from the practice field.