by Eden O'Neill
Since this was delicate, I decided to choose my words carefully. There were a lot of emotions in this conversation, and only some of them had to do with us, me and our relationship. This woman had a history, traumas that had nothing to do with me. But still, there was one thing she needed to know about me.
I placed my hands together. “I’m never going to be the reason you walk away,” I said, surprising her. I shook my head. “I will never give you that, nor be your permission to step back. Make no mistake about that, Brielle.”
And I wouldn’t, I’d stand by her on this. The ball would always be in her court. At least, when it came to this.
She closed her eyes. “What if that’s not what I want?”
My throat tightened. “I’d say you need to tell me, but when it comes to this?” My shoulders lift. “You don’t get a choice. I’m here in this, and I won’t be your reason.”
I refused.
I wouldn’t give her the easy way out, and this wouldn’t be easy. It would be hard and something we’d both have to work at every day. She had her issues and I had mine, and we were in different places in our lives.
Call me a masochist, but that was what made this shit exciting, made it real and worth fighting for. We knew this worked because we fought for that shit. We didn’t give up, problems be damned.
I guided her chin to look at me, but she only ended up pressing her head to my chest. Her arms ensnared my waist, and I held her, warmed her. I kissed her head. “I wish you’d just give up on this.”
“What?”
My chin touched the top of her head. “Trying to run me off. Scare me away.”
I didn’t bend easy, and I made no exception when it came to her. If she wanted to end this, she’d have to do it herself.
Even if that possibility rattled me to hell.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ramses
A dumbbell clanked to the floor beside me, and at the sight of a familiar face, I shook my head. I curled my weight. “You know, you don’t have to pretend you just happened to be here when I am.” I smirked. “For December?”
Royal Prinze had a home gym. I knew because he rented from me. I’d obviously been over there, seen it, but in the past few days, I’d been doing nothing but seeing his mug here at the campus rec center with me.
The guy sent a familiar scowl in my direction, taking the weight bench beside mine. He extended two weights out of considerable size, possibly just to one up me. Today was weight day, but I’d tired myself the hell out in my runs lately.
I’d really been able to push them since they hadn’t been with Brielle.
Heavy shit the other night, and she’d been avoiding talking about it since. Of course, I still saw her, texted her. But I didn’t see her as much, and I think we both knew it had nothing to do with finals coming up for her and me and both our busy work schedules. She was doing her running, but just in a different way, and I hadn’t pushed again.
I mean, look what had happened in the past.
It was best I gave her space, so I did that. As much as it sucked. In the present, it left me with lonely runs and only seeing her actual face a couple nights this week. One of those had been virtually, but that’d been okay. I was a patient man, but with my freed-up time, I had been working out a lot.
Hence, this whole thing with Royal Prinze now.
“Don’t kid yourself, Mallick,” he grunted between repetitions. After a labored set, he dropped the dumbbells, smirking. “I happen to like this gym.”
“Sure.” Absolutely zero percent these little run-ins had nothing to do with the fact I’d broken down and finally asked my female friend for advice about my girlfriend.
I hadn’t given December many details about my conversation with Bri the other night. That was private, but I had said we’d had a talk, an emotional one that had left me unequipped to handle. I’d wanted a female perspective, I suppose.
Prinze’s visits started happening shortly after that. He never said anything to me, of course, a chin tip here and there, but no way in hell this guy’s expensive-ass gym wasn’t being used in exchange to rub elbows with his fellow Pembroke collegiate. If anything, he’d be working out with Knight Reed at his frat. I’d heard Reed and his fraternity brothers had a pretty nice setup.
Prinze shook his head before picking up his dumbbells and starting another set, and I allowed him to play his little game of checking up on me. One he played up when he followed me to the chin up bars before back to the weight press benches. The dude even offered to spot me. At this point, I believed I had a stalker, and after he did his set (which he legit asked me to help him with—what the fuck), I asked him yet again what his deal was. If he was sick and dying, his wife should probably know about that. Because that was the only reason I could come up with that he’d ever actually chose to share time with me without his wife around.
He tossed me a towel as we chugged water, the guy sitting next to me in his cut off tee. “I suppose I just wanted to have a discussion with you.”
“What about?” And subtlety was not this guy’s strong suit. It took him several gym sessions and some stalking just to come out with it. I smirked. “And don’t ask me how to help you with December if you fucked something up. I’m the wrong guy to go to.”
I was the fucking fuck-up of fucked-up situations, and hell, if I knew how to fix them. If I did, there’d be no tension between my girlfriend and me right now and I’d know how to fix things.
Royal tossed his towel over his shoulder. “I don’t need your help with Em, but I would like you to tone down some of your peoples’ more than aggressive business tactics as of late.” He frowned. “I’ve been told many of our clients at Prinze Financial are having to take out second and third mortgages just to deal with the recent Mallick Enterprises rent hikes on their businesses.” He shook his head. “I get it. This is business. You’re obviously trying to buy these people out for the land, but it’s poor form and not the precedent you wanna set this early in the game. Not when you just started and barely warmed your daddy’s seat.”
“Wait. Wait. Back up.” I was still messing with my seat belt and he’d already shot off in the car. I braced a knee. “You’re saying Mallick is raising rents?”
“I know they are, and they’re making Prinze’s small business owners bankrupt. It’s technically none of my business and it does make my company money, but it’s just not classy, man. Knight and his people aren’t even doing that kind of shit.”
I still had no idea what he was talking about, and when he saw that, his eyebrows narrowed. “You didn’t know?”
“No.” In fact, had I known, I would have had some talks with some people. That wasn’t cool, not at all.
I got out my phone, calling my secretary. Obviously, a meeting had to be had. My name was on this shit, but I had many people handling different facets of the business. Not everything went through me. It couldn’t. Impossible.
Leann picked up, and I made sure to have her get me a meeting with Duncan Salsbury. Odds were, he did know about this. Maybe even directed the plans, but with a word, he’d stop them if I requested. He’d have to since he answered to me.
Prinze was right. That wasn’t how I wanted to do business. Especially after meeting with LJ. He definitely opened my eyes to some stuff, how business should see people. Everyone was better because of it, and sometimes, it wasn’t just about the money.
Royal stayed next to me while I made the call for the meeting, and after finalizing it, I hung up. “Thanks for alerting me. Good looking out. You’re right. That’s not how I want to do things and wouldn’t, had I known.”
“No problem.” He tugged his towel off his shoulder, balling it. “And can I offer you some advice? For the future? I’m starting to take on some stuff too with my family business. Knight, too, with his, and I think we’re all kind of going through some of the same stuff. I’m noticing a trend.”
I shifted in his direction. “What kind?”
He frowned. �
�People thinking we’re going to run our fathers’, grandfathers’, and their fathers’ businesses. People used to doing things a certain way and believing we’re going to continue their work. Like we ever would. Like we ever could.”
He growled on the end there, and shit, I’d never felt words so deep. We both knew who our families were. More specifically, who our fathers were.
They were in prison for the same crime.
They had both done the same deeds, held the same sins. And I could imagine the sobering reality of our pasts was even worse for Royal. He had to stare in the face the woman our fathers had hurt so deeply every day. December was my best friend.
But she was also his wife.
Sometimes I forgot that, my burden heavy but his probably heavier. He no doubt had to work through a lot of shit to even be with December, a lot of guilt that, though it had nothing to do with him, I was sure he felt. I sure had.
Our fathers were our blood, and despite their sins being their own, we continued to hold the weight of them.
Royal placed his hands together. “I’m not fully involved with my father’s businesses yet. I’m just getting my feet wet since I’m in school, but even in the things I’ve taken on, people were trying to handle me. Get me to be a yes man to my father’s agendas.” He shook his head. “I called to hell with that. I let them know real quick I wasn’t my dad. I wouldn’t uphold that agenda, and hell if my future child would absorb that legacy I had as an example growing up.”
I had to pause him for a second, putting my hand out.
He smiled at me, nodding. “Yeah, I’m going to be a dad.”
“Jesus, man.” Completely floored, jaw dropped. “December’s the mother, right?”
Obviously, she was the mother. Obviously, I was giving him a hard time, and for about a second, I thought he’d knock me to the floor. He raised his fist and everything.
“Yeah, she’s the fucking mother, asswipe.” He gifted me with a rare chuckle. “We just found out. You didn’t notice she wasn’t drinking the other night?”
I’d been all over the place that evening, and that’d been before Bri and I had an argument. I’d been trying to make sure she was okay, comfortable and everything.
I felt like a true asshole now for not noticing other things. Then again, my best friend hadn’t told me either. I started to state that, and like Royal knew, he raised his hands.
“I think I ruined the surprise,” he said. “She wants to tell you herself. Ask you to be godfather and all that.”
Holy shit.
“He will have a grand total of four. Knight, LJ, and Jax included in that number.”
“Or she.” I crossed my leg at the knee, and he shot that lovely scowl.
“He will have four, and he won’t see the legacy of my father. My dad beat the shit out of me most of my life. Blamed me for things that had nothing to do with me. It took a long while for me to see that, and when he does eventually make his way out of prison, old and fucking decrepit, he’ll get to see the product of a good business. A fair business that his goddamn son built after destroying the money-grubbing clusterfuck his was. It will be a glorious day, and I can’t fucking wait.”
I leaned forward, the deepest conversation I’d ever had with this guy. I faced him. “You deserve that.”
“And you do too.” He nodded. “Don’t let these people take advantage of you. Stand up. Stand firm. I love business. I love making money, but I don’t have to do it my father’s way. You can be the same.”
I thought about that, enjoying business too. I did, but definitely not as much as other things.
“What if you don’t love business?” I asked, shrugging. “What if I enjoy it, have a love for it, but have other passions too?”
That was a great way to put it. I always saw myself as a businessman, but there were things I enjoyed more by far.
Really, this was the deepest conversation Royal and I ever had. This guy and I didn’t talk. Not about anything deep.
He tilted his head. “Then you either do what you want, step down, and let your people run shit the way they want.” He shrugged. “Deposit the checks and go fulfill those passions…”
“Or?”
He grinned. “Maybe figure out a way to fuse the two. You’re in charge either way.” He nodded. “And that’s also a goddamn glorious thing.”
I laughed. Yeah, it was. We had the final say. We were it. Our fathers made us that way through pain and suffering, but that didn’t have to continue. It could definitely start with us, change.
I put my hand out, and Prinze studied it for just a moment before taking it.
“Make ‘em fucking cringe, Prinze,” I said, nodding. “Your father?”
He squeezed my hand, smirking. “You, too, Mallick. You will, too.”
I would.
We all would.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ramses
The decision to go see my father wasn’t a hard one. It had been before.
It just wasn’t now.
It almost felt easier after the meeting I’d had with my executive board today. A long time coming and I held nothing but confidence upon being escorted through the white collar prison. Governors and countless politicians had frequented the harsh brick halls.
Absolutely fitting.
Several guards guided me through, one after the other, an attentive assembly line. I was asked if I needed anything constantly. Doted over as if royalty. Nothing but the best for the affluent son of a rich killer. Dad may not have known about the murder of December’s sister until after the fact, but his help with the cover-up basically put him in the same category as my uncle.
At least, in my eyes.
The man who raised me had contributed to no white collar crime, yet here he was in the nicest prison in the state. Money sure did get one the best.
His quarters were no exception.
Private and away from the fray, two armed guards outside let me through. The sole heir of a self-imposed god didn’t speak to his criminal-ass father from behind plate glass. He got the full view, all-star treatment. They took me right in to see my father.
“Mallick. You got a visitor.”
At an old oak desk, actually writing like he had business to attend to. My father in an orange jump suit, his beard cut and trimmed, office ready.
The sight twitched a scowl.
That he could be arrogant enough to live his days this way, like he had the right for any type of comfort or luxury. His head lifted from his desk, and he was surrounded by the same, countless books on his shelves, a chess set in the corner.
His bed even had a comforter.
I smirked at this point, the luxuries of what money and status could buy. Sad thing was, my father’s name alone could get him these things. He hadn’t built this prison, conflict of interest, but he’d made money off one or two in the state. He’d had his hands dipped in everything, businesses all around.
I’d make it my mission to take him down a peg, starting now, and getting up from his desk, he didn’t seem at all surprised to see me.
He even smiled.
He was arrogant enough to when he set his pen down and his guards arranged our meeting space. Dad was given a chair, myself the same. We could sit with each other, talk with the other, but he couldn’t come within ten feet of me. This was something I’d requested.
At the present, I held more power than this man, unbuttoning my jacket and taking a seat. I’d come here straight from the office.
“Son,” he said, blinking as if awed. He raised his head from his chair. “You’ve finally come.”
Though, not for him, and not for any type of closure or healing. I really didn’t need it from him.
I wet my lips. “I recently had a meeting with the board. I’m going in a new direction with Mallick.”
Straight to the point, I had the guards hand him what I’d brought, then watched with great satisfaction as he read everything over from his chair. I owed my father absol
utely nothing, but I did owe this to myself. I made decisions, took actions.
And I wanted him to know.
Like my arrival, no surprise twitched his eyes. Surprising, but I waited until he got to the end. This did jump his brows at this point, and with the amount of his company’s assets I’d sold off, it probably should. Mallick was still operational in the real estate and development game. I wasn’t fucking crazy. That was our money maker, our business, but I was diversifying and making an empire I could actually stomach running. Nothing based on greed or opportunity. A plan that put both people and myself in mind. This was the kind of company I could run, and he’d given me that power the moment he’d landed in here. I was the number one.
And he the two.
“Who’s Lance Johnson?” he asked, and I nodded.
“A business partner.” I’d given LJ exactly what he wanted, sold him Mallick properties and even went in with him on a few, making him a partner. This kind of collaboration I completely stood for, one that put the people in mind, and with him heading it, I could be completely hands off and place my attention toward things that called even more to me.
“You’re working with him,” Dad continued on. Taking out his spectacles from his jumpsuit, he placed them on his nose. His lips parted. “And made money off the deal.”
Because money could be made while still keeping your soul, and I watched as he scanned the documents to see where those funds went. I had plans for those too.
“Art galleries.” He swung his gaze over to me. “Several?”
I nodded, investments I made in a string of them. I planned to hit all the major cities, but started with Chicago, Miami, and New York. I was working on a team to assist and build this new empire, a branch of Mallick focusing on the artistic sphere. “I’m taking Mallick into a new era. I’m collaborating with a network of national and international artists as well. Our pieces will be shown. Sold at these galleries.”
“Our?”
My head bobbed once in acknowledgment, my legs crossing. “I’m an artist. An artist and a businessman. I want to live in a world in which I’m involved with the two, so I created one.”