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He can’t relate to any of this, and I didn’t expect him to.
I nod.
Simply talking about her makes me want to punch him in the face.
“I don’t see the connection…” he finally murmurs.
“Theodore Sloane has a criminal record. But that’s not it. I’m sure you already know that. Theodore Sloane was in her room asking for sexual favors, or rather blackmailing her and assaulting her while demanding them. He hasn’t gotten that idea from me for sure.”
His lips purse in disagreement.
I tread carefully, knowing that we’re getting into dangerous territory. As much as I want to throw it in his face that I know he knows about Raven and me because he’s run surveillance on her place and mine, I want to keep some things unknown to him.
Still, this issue is so pressing that I find it difficult.
“I think you’re here because you're partly responsible for what happened to your girl.”
He uses the word in mockery.
Women are never ours.
He couldn’t even commit to my mother. Let alone the woman who just left.
In his mind, women exist outside our lives, and he’s tried to instill this idea in me whenever he’s had the opportunity.
“The man you brought into your business just happened to her. I don’t know if he'll get away with this, as it happened in the past, but he has no business being in our firm. I won’t allow it.”
“There’s nothing you can do about it,” he says dryly.
This is not the first time my father and I butt heads over something.
It usually ends in a draw, with no one winning.
We are too much alike in that regard, neither of us knowing how to lose or let go.
In this case, he’d do it out of principle––because he never backs down––while I’d do it to protect what’s rightfully mine.
I can’t have that piece of shit in my life and Raven’s. And I can’t expose anyone else in my circle, man or woman, to a known criminal just because my father’s greedy, has no moral compass, and abides by ancient principles.
“He won’t be in that building as long as I’m there.”
A smirk pulls at his lips while he looks down and picks up his drink.
He takes another swig before he starts talking again.
“Listen. You’re mad he got wind of something everyone in my entourage has picked up on. You and your friends haven’t made a secret out of it, have you? Even my secretary knows that something’s going on. I’ve been young like you… I had women everywhere I went. Some things I did were obvious. I didn’t hide… And some people in my entourage were less than perfect. Things didn’t always go how I wanted them to go, but I never lashed at other people when shit happened. She was careless, and so were your friends. No one has said anything… Yeah. People are trained to pretend they don’t notice these things, but everybody knows what’s happening. You’re not fooling anyone, and just because she’ll work for us at some point, for real,” he points out, “doesn’t mean people don’t know about you, your buddies, and her.”
I clasp my hips.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about this evening, at the party. She was friendly with all of you… Not friendly friendly––”
“I know what you mean,” I interrupt.
He dismisses me with a gesture.
“I had no doubt. That’s why you’re so furious and trying to make me responsible for what has happened. People don’t usually talk because of us. They don’t want to lose their jobs or deals or make enemies out of us, but people do know what’s going on,” he says in a dull tone like he’s had enough of this conversation.
