Chapter Seven
Clifton
I have never liked wearing suits.
I”m happy in slacks and dark-colored button-down shirts, but in suits, I feel ridiculous, like a penguin. And no, I don”t have to be wearing black and white to feel like I look like a penguin.
I smooth a hand down the lapel of my jacket, waiting for the elevator to open and take me to my father’s floor.
Unfortunately, I have no choice in how I dress. I accepted his offer, the offer that saved me from going to jail, but also trapped me in his web of lies like a fly waiting for an inevitable death. I spent so much of my life trying not to get under his thumb, and in the end, he”d managed to get me in checkmate.
The elevator door opens and I step inside, pressing the button for the floor of his law firm.
My father has always been a damn good lawyer. He knows how to bend the law, how to make friends with the right people, and how to get what he wants from anyone. After all, he”s had a lot of practice bending the truth and making people believe him.
His ability to manipulate those around him is practically legendary in my mind. The only person he”d never been able to wrap around his little finger was my mother.
I know he wants me to follow in his footsteps and take over his firm someday, but I know that I”ll never be more than just his puppet. He”ll never be proud of me, and he”ll never let me believe that I earned my way in. He”ll never let me forget that he built this empire and allowed me to be part of his glory and sacrifice.
But I don”t want to live my life the way he expects. I want to be free to make my own decisions, my own mistakes, and build my own empire. Just because the name on the building is the same doesn”t mean I’ll be anything like him.
While I don”t regret the fight that I got into with my ex-girlfriend’s husband, I do regret the consequences. Even though I never asked my father for his help, he did bail me out. And like everything else he”s done for me in my life, it comes with a hefty price. He gave me the option to work for him or go to jail and lose everything.
Obviously, that”s not much of a choice.
The elevator doors slide open and I step out, feeling like a prisoner in a very fancy cage. It”s a feeling I know I need to get used to because nothing”s going to change while I’m trapped here. While I plan to go in with as good an attitude as I possibly can have, I know this will be the slow death of my very soul.
“Son, it”s good to see you here.”
With my heart slamming behind my ribs, I turn to face my father with the most phony smile I can muster up. “It”s good to be here.” We both know I”m lying, but I also know that keeping up appearances is the most important thing to my father, and that he”ll play along.
His eyes narrow even as his smile freezes on his lips. “Your office is three doors down on the right.” He gestures with one hand.
Instead of responding, I dip my head at him in a faux bow. I can play the part of a professional perfectly, after all, for my entire life, he”s demanded excellence and trained perfection into me.
I might even go so far as to say my acting skills rival his.
I cross the shining marble floors toward the office he’s set me up in. If I want time to pass quickly, I need to dig in right away. And the best way to do that is get in my office and get started.
I reach the door he indicated and push it open, expecting an empty room as cold and emotionless as the man who runs the place. Instead, I see Emma.
She’s on her knees with boxes around her and glances up at me with swollen red eyes and surprise in her beautiful features. Obviously startled, she wipes away her tears as if she can hide that she’s been crying.
”Clifton,” she says, her voice trembling. ”What are you doing here?”
I could ask her the same question. Instead, I”m going to take my questions to the person that should be answering them. Without hesitating, I make a U-turn right back out the door and make a beeline to my father.
I find him in his office behind his desk and walk in, ignoring the shocked faces of his client and associate. I want to slap the smug grin off his face, but his cold eyes are daring me to step out of line.
He looks up at me, his surprise giving way to annoyance. ”Clifton,” he says, his voice calm and smooth. ”What a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe this visit?”
He can shove his nice guy persona right up his ass. “Did you fire Emma because of me?”
He stands up and turns to the window after nodding to excuse the people in his office. I don’t give a damn if I embarrass him - I haven”t even started working for him yet, and he”s already sabotaging me. “No, I fired Emma for her inappropriate behavior.”
Of course, he”s going to try to fool me with tricky wording and semantics. So I narrow down my question to something that will be harder for him to dodge. “What inappropriate behavior?”
He clasps his hands behind his back, not bothering to turn to face me. “It was inappropriate for her to show up at your house and discuss me or our issues.”
He was really villainizing her and firing her for something he”d dragged her into. I can”t imagine how Emma doesn”t have whiplash from his sudden turnabout.
“She violated my trust, and that’s grounds for immediate severing of our business relationship. I need people working with me that I can trust.” The cruelty in his voice isn’t lost on me. Why am I here, then, if he needs people he can trust?
“You’ve never trusted me a day in your life, Anton. Don’t bullshit me now.” He turns to face me. There”s a sickening gleam in his eyes, and I know for certain he”s setting me up to fail. My fists ball up at my sides, and his gaze drops to them before sweeping back up to meet mine.
“Are you sure you want to do that, boy?” he asks in that too-pleasant tone of voice.
I take a deep breath, well aware that if I want to beat him at his own game, I need to do so with a clear level head.
And all at once, the answer pops into my thoughts. If I call him out on his behavior indirectly, he”ll know that I”m on to him and he’ll switch tactics. Like any good chess player, all I have to do is put pressure on his king and he’ll evolve his game.
“Anton, look. I accepted your deal and decided to come work with you.” I hesitate, expecting him to fire back some snarky comment. Instead, his eyes narrow and he tilts his head slightly as if trying to figure me out. Good. I want him off balance.
Of course, there”s a suspicious sparkle in his eye, and I know he senses something changing and shifting between us. I have no doubt, he wonders what I”m up to, but I have to be careful, because if he has any idea that there”s something between Emma and me, he will use that to his full advantage.
Of course, there is nothing between Emma and me - a couple of kisses mean nothing - but I don”t want him to think there is.
“But here”s the thing. You”re handicapping me by starting out my introduction to your team this way.”
I take a deep breath and his eyebrows knit together as if he”s trying to understand what I”m saying. Part of being a good lawyer is selling your point and driving the facts home, and that’s the part of being a lawyer that I was always good at. “By firing someone else to bring me in, you”re making sure that no one in this office feels safe. Especially firing someone like Emma.”
I see anger flash in his eyes.
“You”re setting me up to be a monster to my coworkers, which means none of them are ever going to trust me. And if they don”t trust me, they won’t work with me.” After all, he has spent his entire life preaching that trust is all anyone needs to turn a tide. If a jury trusts you, they”re more likely to side with you. If a judge trusts you, they’re more likely to accept your recommendations. If coworkers trust you, they’ll work harder and smarter.
All I”m doing is turning his logic around on him. On a good note, it proves that I”ve learned from him and that I’ve listened to him when he’s tried to teach me. “You taught me that, Anton.”
And through his cold anger, a slight smile curves up the corners of his lips. I sense that he”s proud of me for cornering him.
“Of course, you”re right. And we can”t have anyone around the office thinking that their jobs are in danger or that you being here will upset the status quo.” He nods his head, his gaze never leaving mine. I sense our game of cat and mouse, but still feel like I’m the mouse, even though I’m reasonably certain I’ve won this round.
“Exactly. If I”m going to do my best here, I need my colleagues to trust me.” I watch him turn and plant both hands on the back of his heavy wooden chair. The man loves his Victorian-era style and old money charm.
I”m not sure why I have the nagging sense that he feels he”s won. His confidence leaves me wondering if I’ve made some grave error only he can see. The tricky bastard could make a nun doubt God.
“Fine.” He waves a hand at me. “She can stay, I’ll rehire her.”
I breathe a sigh of relief, careful not to let him see my internal reaction. It’s far too soon to celebrate. The man always has some catch, and he’s yet to trot it out, so I wait. He stays silent, studying me for a few moments, so I make my way to the door.
“But,” he says as my hand connects to the handle and I freeze.
I was so close to escaping, so close to freedom. Turning to face him, I see the look in his eyes and know I’m in trouble.
“What are you going to offer me in exchange for helping you out?” The velvet-wrapped steel of his voice warns me that I was correct all along. There are always strings attached when Anton does anyone a favor.
“I’ll throw myself into work.”
He shakes his head at my proposal, rubbing his chin with one hand while he studies the ceiling as if the answers are written there. “No, that won’t do. That’s part of the original deal we made.”
He’s delusional if he thinks his demands were us making a deal.
“What do you want?” I ask, mentally preparing myself for whatever crazy request he makes.
His gaze focuses on me. “For you to owe me a favor. A favor I can cash in at any time, no questions asked.”
The insanity of having to give him anything to keep him from kneecapping my position - that I didn’t even want - within his company is shockingly twisted but expected.
Making a deal with Anton is like selling your soul to the devil.
The alternative is starting off here hated and feared, thus proving all his rants about me to anyone who’d listen.
“Fine.” I leave the room, well aware I’m going to regret this deal, possibly more than the last one.