Chapter 19
“She’s not answering her phone!” Nathan snapped, his voice sharp and filled with frustration as he stormed into his father’s office that night after everyone had gone home. His frustrated footsteps echoed as he paced across the office floor, a reflection of his impatience.
Paul barely glanced up from his desk, leaning back in his chair with an air of casual authority. He folded his hands together in front of him, watching Nathan with a look of quiet amusement. The tension in the room was palpable, but Paul’s expression remained calm—unmoved. He had seen this before: his son’s impulsive irritation, the sense of being unmoored when things didn’t go according to Nathan’s expectations. It was a familiar dance.
Nathan’s frustration only seemed to grow with each passing second. “Helen was supposed to be distracting and seducing our client,” he snarled, his tone edged with disbelief, as though the plan should have been foolproof. “But she should have checked in by now!” He paced in small, impatient circles, running a hand through his hair. “I thought we had this in the bag.”
Paul’s lips twitched ever so slightly, the hint of a smile forming, though he kept it subdued. Such impatience , Paul thought. It was one of Nathan’s weaknesses. Nathan might have the physical stature of a man who thought he could control a room, but his emotional volatility made him an easy target for manipulation. Paul had spent years cultivating the ability to read people, to understand their motivations, to know when to push and when to pull back. His son, on the other hand, still had much to learn.
"I thought that Helen was seducing and distracting our client," Paul said slowly, his voice laced with an edge of mockery, as though he were humoring Nathan’s impatience.
Nathan glared at him, his jaw tightening. “You and I both know that a man can only be interested in a woman for so long.” He snorted, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “No one, not even Helen, can distract a man like Prince Al-Sintra forever.”
Paul watched him with a quiet satisfaction, letting the weight of his son’s frustration settle in the space between them. Nathan didn’t get it. He was too wrapped up in the idea that the plan had failed because of some uncontrollable factor—because a woman’s charms had a limited shelf life. What he didn’t understand was that the real control wasn’t in the distractions. It was in the manipulation, the timing, and the leverage.
"Plus, there was the call from the man you had watching the site earlier,” Paul said, his tone still cool. “He mentioned something about a group of people snooping around.”
Nathan froze, his face darkening as the reality of the situation began to sink in. He hadn’t anticipated this, hadn’t fully accounted for the risks. His eyes flicked back toward Paul, a flicker of concern crossing his face. “What the hell does that mean?”
Paul leaned forward slightly, just enough to make his presence known, but not enough to appear eager or desperate. “It means that someone else is getting too close to the truth. And now, we’ve got to figure out how to cover our tracks.”
Nathan clenched his fists, his frustration now tinged with a flicker of panic. Paul allowed himself a moment to savor his son’s unease. Nathan had always been too open with his emotions, too obvious in his reactions. It was an unfortunate flaw, especially when you were in the business of deception. He needed to learn how to mask those impulses, to control his reactions better.
Paul’s gaze softened slightly, but the thoughts swirling in his mind were anything but tender. He had built his empire on deception—fake smiles, hidden agendas, and the art of making people believe they were getting a good deal when, in reality, they were being swindled. It was how he’d made his living selling cars that were practically scrap metal, selling the dream to the desperate and gullible. He had perfected the hopeful expression—the one that made a mark believe they were getting the best deal of their life, even as they drove off with a ticking time bomb of a vehicle that would soon break down.
He’d also learned something even more valuable: trust no one. Not even family.
Nathan wasn’t as skilled in this game as he thought. He was playing at it, but Paul could already see the cracks forming. Paul had learned that thieves didn’t have loyalty to one another. Thick as thieves , they liked to say. But thieves would just as soon stab each other in the back if it served their own purposes.
Right now, Nathan was valuable. He had connections, the muscle, the right amount of charm to move in the circles that Paul needed. But if that stopped, if Nathan’s usefulness began to wane, Paul wouldn’t hesitate to cut him out of the picture. He had done worse things for far less, and he wasn’t about to let his son’s impatience or poor judgment jeopardize the plans he had so carefully put into motion.
Paul’s thoughts darkened, memories of past decisions flitting through his mind. If it came down to it, Paul could end Nathan’s involvement—permanently. He had killed before, had eliminated obstacles in his way without a second thought. If Nathan became expendable, Paul would treat him as such. His son would just be another memory, another casualty of the game.
Paul’s gaze returned to Nathan, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered what to do next. He had to rein Nathan in, to remind him who was really in control here. The boy had a lot to learn.