AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The type of schedule she has matches the behavior of a person who's desperate, or in trouble.
I shouldn't be thinking about her, but I can't help it. She's the only person I've wronged in my life that I've regretted. At the same time, everything I did—including breaking up with her—was for the best.
Not just because her father hated me because I was a Grayson. That was the least, and the thing I would have continued to fight.
Our end was down to other important factors I never discussed with her, and couldn't. Now she's here in New York, making me crazy again.
I'd hate to think that she was for stripping for money.
The idea bothered me so much that I spoke to her manager after I saw her and got a full listing of her job specs.
I got the confirmation that River isn’t a stripper, but it didn't give me any reassurance to hear that she could be persuaded for the right price. I was more infuriated to be informed that she’d become a hit amongst the regulars who were booking her for their private parties.
Anything can happen at those parties. The men who book them pay for lap dances and attention from the most popular girls at the club. For the right price, they allow to book girls for sex, too.
Girls who are desperate enough take the money. Especially if they’re being offered crazy money that might mean you can quit your job at Club Edge after one night’s work.
I don't want that to happen to River, but what am I supposed to do?
Surely, her family can't be okay with what she's doing, but maybe they don't know.
I did a basic check on them, too–as in her father and Gina, the only relative she’s close to. It appears River is staying with her because I found a recent phone bill for her with Gina’s address on it.
On the surface, I didn’t find anything to do with her father or Gina that seemed out of the ordinary, but I noted that her ex-fiancé went by an alias.
Even though I was never going to like the guy, I found it suspicious that he’d have an alias. It's difficult but not impossible to find intel on people like that.
The question is, do I keeping looking? Should I dig deeper?
Do I reopen the deep wound between River and me that was created when we broke up?
I don’t know.
I reach the management floor. The boardroom is at the end of the corridor.
Until my grandfather retires, these meetings will continue to be held here at the Wall Street branch of Graysons Inc. I haven’t been here in weeks as I’ve been working at the Park Avenue branch with Knight. After he assumed the role as the branch’s CEO, I went over with him because we work together.
After yesterday’s scandal with Bastian, I know this meeting is going to be one of those I wish I could miss. My grandfather is going to be pissed as fuck, and I’m sure heads will roll.
I also expect a confrontation from my father and Bastian, even though I know they have nothing to challenge me with. Any questions asked will be more to do with finding out if I’m planning to make Bastian’s situation worse.
The two will also be riled up because they know any chance of Bastian becoming CFO of Park Avenue is out the window. We originally thought he’d never want to work under Knight, until weeks ago, when he dropped the comment that he still had that option. That’s when I knew I had to strike. There was no way in hell I was going to allow him to get my legacy, and the motherfucker would also get control over the main branch when our father retires, or dies.
As I'm a few minutes early, I walk through the already opened door only to come face to face with my rivals.
Father and Bastian are sitting on the left side of the long mahogany table, closer than two peas in a pod. The two of them glare at me with looks designed to kill.
I’m used to it.
My father told me on many occasions that he’d wished I'd never been born, so I’m sure if he could kill me—one of his bastard children—he wouldn’t hesitate.
Knight and I look like him. Bastian has the same resemblance, so you can tell we’re brothers, but his hair is blond like Sloane’s, his mother.
Their seething eyes follow me as I make my way to the other side of the table and sit. The moment I do, tension fills the room like a cloud of smoke, then grows so thick you could cut it with a knife.
Father leans forward onto the table and intensifies his glare. “The news yesterday,” his words pierce through the silence. “You didn’t have anything to do with it, did you?”
I tilt my head and give him a wide-eyed stare. “In what ways,Father?” I always call him Father with that disdain and mocking edge because he loathes Knight and me referring to him as our father. We only do it at our grandfather's request.
