KILLIAN

 

“You’ve finally done it, Killian! You’ve pushed my last button!”

“Of course I did, Grandfather,” I drawled while scrolling through my phone. His rants typically lasted fifteen minutes. I just had to hold on for…twelve minutes and thirty-two seconds. Piece of cake.

“Do you even care?”

“Not really.”

He slammed his hand against the desk. A Victorian 19th century mahogany pedestal kneehole writing desk. Full of history. Just not our family history.

“You’re an ungrateful child! Everything I’ve worked for is for you and your brother and you don’t even care!”

True—at least for me. I couldn’t help it.

Easily.

There wasn’t enough to do here because my grandfather was a control freak. Which did little to make me nice.

Honestly, wasn’t it really partly his fault I turned out to be such a rotten man? If he wanted me to sit in a concrete box all day then the least he could do was look away when I diddled an adventurous sorority girl or two.

I shared that particular insight with him and, not surprisingly, Grandfather hit the roof.

“My fault! My fault that you get pulled over speeding with two naked coeds? My fault I had to have Romano pull every string to get you out without being processed much less charged?”

Tilting my head from one side to the other, I answered simply, “Yes.”

This really got him going. Ten minutes and twenty-seven seconds…

“You arrogant little shit! I’ll tell you what’s my fault! I should’ve never let you get away with murder. I spared the rod and spoiled the child! If your mother could see you now…”

Time to tune him out.

I simply had no patience for his yammering when he got like this. Besides, what did he expect me to do?

There was no point in asking because I knew, had known since I earned my useless education.

I was expected to come to work every day like a good boy. (Which I did. Usually. Most of the time. When I felt like it and if nothing else was going on.)

I had no access to the part of the company that truly interested me. (Why else did I get a degree in Chemical Engineering if I was never going to use it?)

I wasn’t allowed to make suggestions at the interminably boring board meetings. (I did anyways but they were either shot down or met with contempt. Idiots.) Those very same suggestions would increase profits by 20% easily.

Did Gramps appreciate my vision? No.

I got patted on the head and sent to my office while the other grownups got to do the real work.

He was lucky I found sex to pass the time. What else was there to do when life was this boring?

“Killian? Killian!”

“Yes, Grandfather.”

“What did I say?”

I suppressed a sigh and recited his ranting. The words varied from day to day, but the gist remained the same.

I didn’t appreciate a thing I’d been given.

True.

I was a terrible example to my little brother.

Doubly true. That’s why I made sure he was a little angel. Whenever Gramps let me see him.

I didn’t know what it was like to work for a living.

I’d like to work—freely—but you won’t let me.

I didn’t care about anyone but myself.

Well…I couldn’t exactly argue that point. My actions made me a liar.

“You’re going to regret this, Killian. One day you’ll see the life you’ve wasted and I pray for you that it’s not too late.”

“Of course, Grandfather.”

“Your mother would be turning over in her grave right now to see how you’re behaving—”

I stood up. “Are we done here?” Staring into the same blue eyes I saw reflected in the mirror every day of my life, I saw the disappointment there. Just like I saw every day of my adult life.

“Madre de Dios, Killian. I pray you don’t go so far you can’t ever come back.”

Keep your prayers for someone who wants them, Gramps.

It was too late for me. I had zero interest in changing. Not for Rafael King, not for King Cosmetics, not for anybody.

My name was Killian King and I’d be a shameless sinner until the day I died.