Page 92 of The Wildflower


Font Size:  

I clutch my head as a wave of dizziness rolls through me, dropping me back onto my ass. God, this is getting old. "What are you talking about? I haven’t done anything wrong. I showed up at your party and played nice.”

His eyes flash with icy rage, and out of nowhere, he pulls a gun, the glint of it shining in the dim light. He waves it around with his finger near the trigger.

"You’re the fucking problem. You ruined it all. You and that cunt. She convinced that arrogant fuck to withdraw his donations. As of two hours ago, Sebastian Arturo has removed all of his assets from the Marshall Group. I doubt your small brain can comprehend how much fucking money that is.”

I want to laugh in his face and tell him I told you so, but practice is the only thing that keeps my face empty of emotion. "What am I supposed to do about it?"

My response isn’t what he wants to hear, and in a flash, he lashes out, slamming the gun into the side of my head. The world spins, and my ears ring. Pain lances across my cheek and the bridge of my nose, but I grit my teeth against it, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing my reaction.

“What do you think I want you to do? Use your fucking head. Get my fucking money back, Andrew. Go to that fucking house. Find that stupid bitch and tell her you’re head over heels in love with her. Do whatever you need to do to make her believe it and have her make her brother return his portfolio. Fix it! That’s what I want you to do.”

Blood pools inside my mouth, and I spit it onto the hardwood before speaking. A look of utter disgust is cast my way. "How is Bel going to convince Sebastian?"

He spins away from me and reaches for the bottle of bourbon sitting on the edge of his desk. Bringing the neck of it to his lips, he takes a chug and places the bottle back down. I use the time to stand and swipe at the blood on my head.

When he returns his attention to me, he invades my space, gripping my sweatshirt, pulling me into his face. He snarls his lips, and his whiskey breath fans against my cheek. It takes everything inside me not to react or fight back. This man is a ticking bomb and it’s only going to be a matter of time before he implodes on himself. Taking us all down with him.

I need Bel and my mom as far away from him when that time comes.

There’s no saying the lengths he’ll go to get her to agree to something. No one tells my father no, and if they do, they regret it.

“I don’t care what you have to do. I don’t care who you have to fuck, even if you have to fuck Sebastian himself. Convince them that everything is okay. Make them believe that we respect them, and that we want them to be a part of the Marshall family. Do whatever. It. Takes. The money is everything. The money is the ONLY thing.”

He brings the barrel of the gun to my head, the cold steel pointed firmly into my flesh. I don’t even blink at his behavior. He’s in a fucking mood, and I don't trust his need for me to be greater than the satisfaction of pulling that trigger right now.

“You’ve never had to live on the street, Son. You’ve been privileged all your life. You have no idea there are children out there who can’t feed themselves or have to sell their bodies to be able to do so. You have never understood how fucking lucky you are to be born with everything you could ever need. So when I say, money is everything, then I mean, the money is the only thing keeping you six feet above the ground.”

I swallow hard at what he’s saying. He’s never...I blink, knowing how he will take it if I ask questions, show him any kind of pity, so I don’t.

"Part of the Marshall family?" I ask, softly. “What does that mean?”

He nods, his mouth twisting into a cruel smile as he moves the barrel, tracing down the side of my face with the gun before stopping to press it under my chin. My heart beats out of my chest, and I'm so fucking tired of him making me feel this way. Tired of the anxiety and fear. Of never knowing what he might do next.

"It means you will convince that girl you're in love with her. That you want to marry her. That what happened at the party that night was a misunderstanding. Then once we have her tied to the family with no way of escaping, I’ll have my revenge and show that little Arturo bastard what happens when people play with my money. When we’ve had our full use of the girl, you can toss her in the trash and move on to someone new."

He’s lost his fucking mind.

"This is not the 1900s. You can’t make someone marry you simply because you say so. What’s your plan if she says no? Are you going to kidnap her and force her to sign her name on the dotted line?” I play into his delusional plot. “We can’t go into this without a solid plan. Otherwise, it might backfire on us. Sebastian is a loose cannon, and I have no doubt that he will use every bullet he has to try to take us out.”

He nods and taps my cheek with the gun, then steps away, returning to his bottle of bourbon. After taking another chug, he places the bottle back down and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Yes, I agree. I'll have to think of something else. Maybe I'll get rid of your mother and marry the girl myself. She's a sweet little piece of ass, and I’d love to know what it is about her cunt that has my son tied up in knots.”

If I wasn’t so sure he’d pull the trigger, I’d swing on his ass, but that’s what he wants. To see me react, to get under my skin and piss me off. When I do none of those things and simply continue staring blankly at him, he continues.

“It doesn’t really matter. I'll find a way to get control of her. Who knows? When I'm backed into a corner, I can be very creative. So tell me, Son, do you want me to take matters into my own hands, or are you going to do what I tell you to? You can still have a piece of the pie. There is still a spot for you here beside me.”

I’m backed into a corner. There’s nothing I can do but agree. If I don’t, there’s no saying what he’ll do. At least with my agreement, I can buy myself some time.

“Consider it done,” I announce, my voice low.

He smiles, and it makes my stomach churn. "Good, and don’t fuck this up, Drew! You’ve caused enough issues. You’re lucky your mother is still alive after all the shit you’ve done. Now, let’s fix this. I'll set up a little date for you two. Show me how creative you can be, and maybe you'll get through this in one piece. Although I can't guarantee the same thing for your friends."

28

BEL

Acouple of days pass, and I find myself still thinking about the things Drew shared with me. My heart aches for him, bleeds for him even, but there’s nothing I can do to help him. It’s a potent kind of helplessness.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com