He regarded me for a long moment with tired eyes. His shirt was rumpled, his suit jacket wrinkled, and I wondered if he’d had a difficult day then decided I didn’t give a damn.
My day was a lot worse.
“You caused me a ton of trouble, you know that?” His voice was rough, like he’d been shouting most of the afternoon.
I laughed and shook my head. It was fucked up, hearing that come out of his mouth, as if I should feel bad for him somehow. “Yeah, well, you’re causing me a lot worse, so I guess it’s even.”
His face twisted into rage. “Even? You don’t get it, do you?”
I stepped toward him, setting my jaw. “Why don’t you tell me then?”
“Everyone’s watching me.” He stalked across the room, hands clasped behind his back like a caged tiger. “Do you know what that’s like? Every rich person, everyone with an ounce of power, they’re all watching, waiting, and wondering how I’ll fuck this up. Every single one of them.”
“I almost feel bad for you,” I snapped, “except here I am, stuck in a prison.”
He turned and stared. “I’d much rather be in your position.”
“Then let’s trade places.”
He smirked and shook his head. I wished I could slap him in the face, but I knew that would only cause more problem than it was worth. Hurting him wouldn’t buy my freedom, and really it would only make him crack down on me harder.
I wondered if there weren’t some way out of this—and then it occurred to me that he didn’t give a damn about me at all. This whole thing was about his stress, his workload, his problems, and I was just a consequence of all those things. He didn’t care what happened to me so long as all his problems went away, and I was only here because he wanted to take it out on someone. I was nothing to him and I never had been.
“You’re lucky, you realize that? All this hard work turned out for nothing. Your husband made my life very, very difficult, and you get to walk away.”
I opened my mouth to tell him to go to hell—then stopped myself.
“Walk away?” I asked, not sure what he meant, and wondering if this was some kind of trick.
“As much as I want to punish you for all this bullshit, you’re still family, and it would look pretty damn bad. So I’m going to pay you the million you’re owed and send you on your way.”
“Pay me… what?” I felt like my world tipped on its side. I had to lean against the dresser to keep from tilting and falling over.
He laughed and shook his head. “I know, it’s stupid, isn’t it? But yes, I’m going to pay you, but there’s a catch.”
“What?” I managed.
“You’re going to stay in the city and work for the family. I’m thinking of naming you our liaison to the state government.”
I cleared my throat, trying to work out the sticky bile taste I felt surging up from my gut.
“You want me to work for the family?”
“That’s right. You’ll have an official capacity, but it’ll be menial work. You’ll smile and flirt with the old men in the state senate, you’ll hand out bribes to the ones that don’t fall for your charms, which I suspect will be most of them, and you’ll do whatever I ask of you. And in exchange, I’ll keep you on the payroll on top of your million.”
I leaned back and sat down on the edge of the bed. I stared at my hands, wondering how the hell I found myself in this position, being offered a job in the family I despise, and knowing full well that it’s not truly an offer—but a threat.
“No,” I said, my voice soft.
“Excuse me?”
“No.” I lifted my head and stared at him. “No, Vincent. I don’t want your job or your money.”
He stared at me, confusion in his eyes, then laughed. He shook his head and ran his hand through his hair.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“I’m not joking.” I stood up. “I don’t want your money or your job. I want you to leave me the fuck alone. That’s all I want.”
His laughter disappeared and he took a step toward me, jaw clenched. “That’s not going to happen,” he said through his teeth.
“You think I want anything to do with this fucked-up family anymore?” I stared at him, heart racing, barely controlling myself. “You people have done nothing but screw me over, use me for whatever you want, and kill my best friend.”
He flinched back, blinking. “Kill your friend?”
“You don’t even remember him, do you?”
“Are you talking about that fucking fat kid you used to hang out with?” He made a face. “I thought you were happy when that loser got whacked. What was his name anyway?”