And she deserved this, Leo supposed. She had been cruel and sick, and she tried to have Skye killed.
And yet…these days Leo found it was hard to even look at her silent suffering. She often watched him. Just stared long and hard, and while her unnaturally pale face was void of emotion, he could feel her plea for help.
But this was not her son anymore.
He was changing—he felt the transformation, and it was unkind, and he was sort of losing his fucking mind.
Leo purposely turned his back to her. “You asked for me,” he spoke.
George wrapped his robe around his large, muscled body, glimpsing at Leo with that mean glint in his eye. “How is my son these days?”
“Busy.”
“Doing what?”
“You handed me the marina to oversee.”
“Have there been shipments?”
“A few small operations.”
It was nothing big.
Frankly, Leo had no interest in the drug manufacturing happening beneath the surface. It was small-time operations his father had given him to oversee, like he was still a fucking child that couldn’t handle the bigger things.
George paused, giving the girl on the bed a sharp look. “Get out.”
She scurried out of the room moments later, clutching her thin clothing to her bare chest. Just used and discarded like she was nothing—meant nothing. Leo didn’t know how anyone could do it. He barely made eye contact with her before ripping his gaze away like he’d been burnt, as if shouldering his father’s shame for him.
Eyeing him with amusement, George offered, “I could have one like her sent to your place, if you like.”
Leo tensed his jaw. “I’m not interested in your scraps.”
“She’d be totally new—”
“No.”
His father hummed in thought now, seeming annoyed. “They’re boring, aren’t they? Not worth what I’m paying for, and the rules are distracting. The Mistress has an ego too big—I ought to remind her where she came from.” Shaking his head, he added, “I might turn to the Cattle. Less regulations down in those Pits.”
Leo said nothing, showed nothing to show his father the utter dismay he felt. George would love to know what buttons he could press to rile Leo up, and the “Cattle” was one of them.
“What do you think?” George urged. “Should I try my hand at them?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“You’re hard to break these days, aren’t you?”
Leo’s stare bore into him. “Is that what you’re trying to do, break me?”
“I’m exploring your boundaries.”
“I have barely any left.”
George went quiet, mulling that over. “Then it won’t trouble you what I have in mind.”
“What exactly do you have in mind?”
“I’m trying my hand at more lucrative product.”