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Gus scoops up sauce with his bread and pops a chunk in his mouth. “Doing what exactly?”
“I could start at a tattoo parlor and work my way up from there.”
Gus laughs. “A tattoo parlor? How much do they pay these days? A few grams of weed?”
Elliot snickers.
My mom looks away, pretending not to hear or see. That’s her favorite coping mechanism when Gus lays into me at the dinner table.
Anger heats my stomach, but I keep my voice even. “They pay well, actually, especially for good drawings.”
“You’re family.” Gus refills his glass with wine. “You’ll work in the business.”
My mother places a hand on Gus’s arm. “It’s hard for her to do manual labor. You know how she suffers with her leg.”
Sliding my gaze to my mom, I purse my lips. She of all people knows I hate pity.
“If you do a good job, you’ll be promoted to the admin department in six months,” Gus says.
I drag air through my nose in an effort to control my temper. “Where I’ll be stuck for the rest of my life, seeing that I’m not a programmer and I’ll have nowhere else to go in the company.”
Gus’s smile is patronizing. “You worry too much about things that are a long way in the future.”
“Exactly.” However much I fear Gus, I can’t not speak up about this. He pays me peanuts, and I need money. Lots of money. “It’s my future we’re talking about.”
Gus pins me with a frown. “As long as you live under my roof and carry my name, you’ll do as I say.”
My mother shifts to the edge of her seat. “Dessert, anyone?”
I clench my teeth so hard my gums hurt, but I don’t dare push the issue further.
“While we’re on the topic,” Elliot says. “People talk. They’re wondering when you’re going to make the big announcement.”
“What announcement?” Gus asks.
Elliot clears his throat. “Of making me a partner.”
Gus picks through beef mince and bacon on his plate and forks a few strips of cabbage. “The partnership isn’t a given, son. It will go to the man who gets the promotion.”
Elliot sits up straighter. “I’m your son.”
“I know,” Gus says in a dry tone. “I have the paternity test to prove it.”
Stabbing a finger on his chest, Elliot says, “That place is rightfully mine.”
Gus’s knife makes a loud clang as he drops it on his plate. “That place will go to the man who deserves it. Nothing was handed to me for free, and I sure as hell won’t give away a company I built from scratch to a man who can’t run it.” His voice rises in volume. “Easy come is easy go. Nothing will make me happier than having my son as a partner, but you’ve given me no reason to offer you that promotion. If you want it that badly, work like a man and fucking earn it.” He emphasizes the statement by slamming his fist on the table.
The glasses rattle. My mom jumps.
“The rumors are true then,” Elliot says, looking at his father with an injured expression. “You already have someone in mind.”
Gus spears his fork into his food. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
Elliot’s nostrils flare. “Who?”
I almost feel sorry for Elliot. He’s never lived up to Gus’s expectations.
Gus takes a gulp of wine. After wiping his mouth with his napkin, he fixes Elliot with a level stare. “If you must know, the man I’m considering is Leon Hart.”
The news catches me by surprise. My stomach somersaults. Promoting Leon will make him Gus’s second-in-command. It will give Leon immense power, enough to make him untouchable. He’ll be much more dangerous than he already is. Yet the reason for the sick feeling that sinks in my gut isn’t only my fear of the consequences if Leon succeeds. It’s also understanding with sudden clarity why he asked me out. He wants to use the boss’s stepdaughter to further his own career.
CHAPTER 9
Leon
Opting for the bike instead of the car, I drive to Newtown. The downtown traffic isn’t heavy on a Sunday, but I like the freedom of the Harley. That’s what the brand claims to sell after all. If you’re a criminal like me, freedom is priceless.
After parking in the heavily secured underground lot of the Hart Diamonds building, I take the elevator to the top floor. It doesn’t surprise me that my brother works on the weekend. Ruling a diamond empire takes time.
Damian meets me at the elevator when I exit. Compared to his formal suit, crisp blue shirt, and tie, my casual attire of ripped jeans, a leather jacket over a faded T-shirt, and a worn pair of boots seems out of place.
“Leon,” he says, his jaw hard as he shakes my hand.
I grin. He’s still pissed off that I hijacked his elevator. That’s what I’m here for, not to chitchat and reconnect with my estranged brother, but to collect.
