Chapter 2 #2
“He wants the pedigree and respect that comes with our name.” Once again, not necessarily my problem.
In fact, it seemed like it didn’t even have to be my father’s problem, even though he’d made it his.
This was all on Raf, who clearly didn’t deserve to have any part in a company.
Unless the objective was to tank it. He was a lousy businessman with piss-poor acumen.
If he had been depending on his gut for the decisions he had made thus far, he should have looked to another body part. It was evident his gut sucked.
Standing, I finished my drink and left the empty glass on the desk. “Well, thank you for considering me. Truly flattered.” I shook my head. “But you have other single sons, so why me?”
“You’ve always been a good listener.”
I’d always been a pawn. “I draw the line at an arranged marriage.”
“You’ll be engaged first, and we’ll plan the wedding in the meantime.
” I didn’t know why I bothered talking when he was going to ignore what I said anyway.
This was always how it had been. If I had my way, it wouldn’t be like this for much longer.
He better enjoy calling the shots while he still could because that kind of power had a fast-approaching expiration date.
Calmly, I laced my fingers together in front of me.
“What’s in this for me? I have no stake in this company.
Not really, anyway. You’ve made that clear with the way you’ve situated things.
” Everything was a game to him, but marriage was no game, and I wasn’t going to be forced into it by him or anyone else. Loopholes existed for a reason.
He sighed, relaxing back in his chair as though this conversation was tremendously strenuous. “You like to pretend you have no stake but imagine what it’d be like if that were true. Do this and I won’t take away your shares and cut you out of my will,” he answered flippantly.
Blood pounded in my ears. “Leverage,” I ground out, my jaw tensing. If leverage held the same monetary value as the fentanyl business did, he would have had wealth beyond compare.
He drummed his fingers on the desk, his mouth screwing up in an evil grin. “My son, I knew you would try to fight this. Predictability is not a good thing, but it is something I expect from you.”
Cracking my neck, I tried not to do anything rash like lunge across the desk and choke him. I wasn’t violent, but it was easy to see red when I was around him for any considerable amount of time.
“I do wish you wouldn’t force me to resort to it.” His gravelly voice loudened, and he was making it abundantly clear I didn’t have a choice in the matter.
Brooklyn was about to be Mrs. Marco Deluca. “What makes you think Brooklyn will accept the terms?” I asked, reluctantly succumbing.
“Good thing I didn’t, in fact, raise a fool.” The pride that seemed to be filling his cup at the moment was completely unfounded. “These equine centers are just the beginning.”
Yes, they were. They would be the first move in a brand-new game of chess. One that I was starting myself. He wanted to treat me like the pawn, then I’d be the pawn, but I could guarantee he wouldn’t like the subsequent moves I’d make. “More control over the company,” I said with conviction.
“Excuse me?”
“That’s what I’ll accept.”
“This isn’t a negotiation.”
I gripped the back of the chair I had previously been occupying, tightening on it as I looked him dead in the eye. “I’m not asking. I’m demanding it.” An image of her honey-blonde hair and brown eyes darted across my mind. I could have thought of worse women to be stuck with.
“Demanding? No, no, no, no. You don’t have the upper hand for that.
” His glance swiveled around the room before landing back on me.
“Raf came to me with his counteroffer, and I accepted. Paperwork has already been drawn up. It’s a done deal.
If you don’t accept, you’ll have no legacy.
You’ll have the name Deluca, but it won’t get you very far.
You’ll be blackballed. No titan in the industry, or any other industry for that matter, will want to do business with someone with your… work history.”
Knowing I wasn’t going to get anywhere, I scrubbed a hand over my mouth. “You seem to have it all figured out.” He liked to use what he knew about a person to predict their next move, so he was going to be tragically disappointed when mine proved to be nothing he expected.
“Oh, my son, I wish you could understand I’m doing this for you.” Those were the words that spewed out of his mouth like hot venom, but his icy glare threatened to give me hypothermia.
“Seems inaccurate, but most everything about this meeting is more twisted than the knife in my back.” Out of all the things I had done for him, thinking that it would actually be for a worthy reason one day, this was quite possibly the most vicious request he had put on me.
Everything we did was in the name of family.
We had a Deluca motto, for Christ’s sake, and still, I didn’t think his heart thudded in the same way the rest of ours did.
Black like tar, cold like an iceberg, indestructible… we had yet to see it.
He cleared his throat. “Brooklyn will be your wife. She will be helping her family, doing what’s best for them, and you will be securing your place here to one day be at the helm. In the meantime, you have much to learn.”
Although my body felt frozen, I didn’t want to be in his presence any longer, so I turned and walked to the door.
“Well, this has certainly been eventful,” I said, clapping my hand against my other fisted one.
“We should schedule a coffee klatch or something next time. For now, though, I’ve got shit to do.
” Meanwhile, I had nothing more to do than usual, overseeing the seamstresses who called themselves artisans whose sole jobs were to design nonsense for a lifestyle brand we had acquired.
I spent most of my time with old broads and their needles, and my father had been right in saying my current job description wouldn’t do me much good on a résumé.
He’d all but seen to it.
In just the same way he’d seen to it that this company was his essence. He would be nothing without it.
Something that would come to pass when I was done with him.
“Oh, Marco.” Brooklyn’s voice cut through my thoughts like shards of glass before I turned around and met her stare. “I’m looking for my fiancé.”
Loud. High-pitched. Vibrating.
There was an undertone of remarkable defiance in her statement, but I think we both knew it wouldn’t do any good. She was still going through with it, and I was still going to try to get out of it. Although, she didn’t need to be privy to that minor detail.
Her downturned lips formed into a demure smile that was as out of place as plaid was on me during the winter.
Raising a brow, I gave her a slow once-over, albeit unnecessary, considering my mind teemed with images of her, ones that were practically inked there.
I didn’t give it much thought on a regular basis, but now that I was confronted with my new reality, I couldn’t help but admit she was luminous, radiant.
She was slim but muscular, her arms toned beneath her long-sleeve top, probably from the weight classes she took with Capri.
Then again, it wasn’t something she did on a strict schedule, more so whenever she pleased.
Her interests tended to vary with her hidden agenda.
It seemed conniving was of latest interest, so it was no surprise that she was dressed the part.
Everything about Brooklyn exuded high society, like that of a woman who had a membership at a country club.
With that handbag, it was obvious she was all about appearances.
Just as most things were for the Briggs family.
Not that I was in any position to judge.
The Delucas did the same thing, and I often followed suit.
“Hellooo? I’m here to meet my fiancé,” she repeated, as if I had hearing problems.
Studying her closely, I tucked my hands into my pockets. “Have you tried speed dating or any apps? I hear they have moderately good success rates.”
Her mouth quirked up in the most divine sadistic smile that only made her cheekbones more prominent. It would’ve been disturbing if this was the first time I was witnessing the way it matched the other excellent curves and bends of her delicate body.
I’d be pretending to be engaged to her.
I’d be pretending to be going through with the marriage.
But there was no pretending when it came to being drawn to her.
“So, it’s you,” she finally said, acknowledging our fate in the flattest tone of voice I think I might’ve ever heard come from a woman.
Perhaps she could’ve mustered up a tad bit more excitement.
After all, we were about to violate everything vows stood for, building ours on coercion, toxicity, and an ignorant alliance. My favorite type of sin—one I was being forced into committing.
“Best if we take this conversation into my office.” Hooking my pointer finger, I showed her the direction, and we walked in silence.