“You filthy son of a bitch!” He yelled, trying to charge me, but security held him back. He struggled so much the seams of his suit were starting to split.

“Mr. Edmund, this is no way to act in front of the board, now is it?” I asked, folding my hands behind my back.

The board of thirty-eight, seated around the conference room table, muttered to themselves, some even looking away from the tall, blond-haired, brown-eyed man before me. We were college friends. Acquaintances actually, I didn’t have friends. But I was sure after today he’d be a nobody.

“Mr. Edmund?” He continued to yell out in rage. “We went to Harvard together, Dorian, and you screw me over like this? My family started this company four generations ago. You know what it means. You were one of the groomsmen at my wedding. How could you do this?”

In my defense, I didn’t want to be a groomsman at his wedding. His mother wouldn’t stop calling my damn office until I swore to go.

“The question is, how could you allow me to do this? You ruined this company and now you want to blame me? Have at least some dignity, since you don’t have intelligence, Hugh.” I didn’t spare him another glance, nodding for security to take him out.

“I will make you pay for this.”

“Get in line with everyone else,” I replied as the double wooden doors closed. I walked to the front of the conference room. Pulling out the head chair, unbuttoning my suit, I took a seat. They all sat up straighter, fixing their clothes and turning on their tablets or grabbing a pen. I allowed my gaze to drift over them for a moment before speaking.

“As many of you know, my name is Dorian Rhys-Gallagher, CEO of Rhys-Gallagher National Holdings. I’m also known as ‘the demon butcher,’ or ‘that motherfucker,’ or ‘that filthy son of a bitch.’ The list goes on. I’m sure the moment I leave, you’ll add something more colorful to it. Let it be known, I don’t give a damn about your policies, traditions, or company mission statement. The only thing I care about is making money. If you open your mouth, and I can’t profit from it, as the new owner of Edmund Enterprises, I will not only fire you, but embarrass you. Are we understood?”

They nodded, not wasting a word.

“Brilliant, let us begin.” My administrative assistant handed me a tablet before placing a file in front of me. Pulling out a pen from my breast pocket, I went over everything once more.

“Edmund Enterprises will be disbanded by the end of the year. The financial sector will join R.G. National, along with the technological group. However, the rest will be cut up and offered to the highest bidder one piece at time. Any questions?” I looked around the room. Their mouths had dropped open.

“You want to do what?” An old man with a thick mustache and dark eyes glared at me as he stood, his hands shaking. I wasn’t sure if that was due to rage or his age.

There was always one.

“I will not repeat myself,” I said, looking at my tablet.

“You want to take a company that has been around since before you were a spark in your father’s eyes and break it apart for money? Have you lost your goddamn mind, boy?”

Spark in my father’s eyes? People still said this?

“Did I not lead off by stating my only goal was to make money? Where did I lose you? Why else would I buy up shares for a hostile takeover? It’s called hostile for a reason. I’m a corporate raider, not a doctor. This company has been on life support for months, and it’s time to cut the cord. You will make out much better on your end as well—”

“It is not only about the money, boy. Almost two hundred thousand people work for Edmund Enterprises. You can’t—”

“I already have,” I snapped. These idiots knew how to get on my last damn nerve. Who were they to interrupt me? “And not only that, but it is my right to. The employees of this company will suffer, yes, but that isn’t my problem, nor my fault. It is yours, Mr. Jacobs. You weren’t complaining when you were in Miami, screwing your former CEO’s fiancée on a private beach, were you?”

I clicked on the tablet, sending the image of how he spent his vacation last spring. His eyes widened as they perused it.

“I’m sure you’re quite pleased that Mr. Edmund is no longer in the room, though I’m sure he will find out about this as well. Nevertheless, Mr. Jacobs, I really don’t care how you spend your wealth, to each their own, but do not use your employees as an excuse for your rage. Each and every one of you is a selfish bastard who decided to remodel your house, or buy a jet or yacht, or whatever the fuck else to stroke your goddamn egos. But your cash cow’s dead now, and I’m here to cut up the pieces before it rots any further. That is what I do. You will get your final paychecks and then however you chose to sustain yourselves is your business. Do remember though, by law, you are not allowed to disclose any information about Edmund Enterprises. I doubt you want to be sued into oblivion. Then you really would have nothing and be no one.” Buttoning my jacket, I stood, no longer wishing to waste my time on them.

I got to the door and stopped, turning back to Mr. Jacobs, who was unable to look away from the picture.

“I did say I was going to embarrass and fire you, didn’t I?”

He glanced up. “What?”

“You. Are. Fired. Meaning, whatever money there is to be made, I will make sure you don’t even get a sprinkle of that since you’re no longer a board member.”

“You can’t do that, I have stock.”

“And it’s useless,” I replied before leaving him.

Walking to the elevators, I felt their eyes on me. The employees were always the ones who got hurt most. But that wasn’t my doing. They were hoping the new guy would somehow come aboard and save the Titanic. That was a fairytale. The Titanic would sink no matter what. Their best chance was to jump ship.

“The car is waiting,” Goldie informed me as we entered the elevator.

Marigold “Goldie” Tate was my administrative assistant. Her red glasses were perched on her nose, with her bright blonde hair pulled into a tight bun. She was everything I needed: smart, focused, and, greatest of all, unemotional. She did her job to near perfection and made sure everyone else did the same.

When we stepped outside, I stopped to feel the warm summer breeze. If Donovan were still alive, he would be calling me right now to go for a run in the park. He always said that in New York, sunny and warm days were when miracles happened. It was August, and soon everything would be covered in ice again. I preferred it that way. Nothing to expect but snow.

“Sir?” Goldie called when I hadn’t taken a seat in the car.

I glanced at the skyline once more before getting in, and the driver closed the door. I rested my head against the leather seat.

“This morning’s reports.” She handed them to me.

I took them but didn’t bother looking them over. I had a migraine. Like she knew, she handed me two pills.

“Thank you.” I swallowed them without water, closing my eyes as she turned on “Spring” from The Four Seasons by Antonio Vivaldi.

I had only just started to relax, my headache slowly disappearing, when we suddenly came to a stop. I looked out and saw that what was once Donovan’s favorite bar was closed down and only the name ‘Shameless’ was still written on the window. I wanted to smile, thinking he was probably the sole reason the bar had stayed open by always buying rounds for everyone. I didn’t though. I didn’t know how to anymore.

“Goldie.”

“Yes, Sir?”

“Clear my schedule on Monday.” I watched the bar disappear behind us.

“Yes, Sir. Are you taking the day off?”

“I’m going to see my family,” I replied. She didn’t ask anything more than that when we pulled up to the gray, glass building with my last name on top of it.

Stepping out, I didn’t say a word or spare an employee a single minute as I crossed the lobby to the elevators, Goldie right behind me. When the doors to the right of me opened, two young men stumbled out, pulling at their ties and gripping their briefcases in annoyance.

“Screw Rhys-Gallagher. How can he have his secretary be the one to interview us? I graduated fourth in my class at Yale,” the first one huffed, and his voice sounded like a squealing pig.

“You? I had referral letters from not only two but three of the best financial analysts in the country. Now some Mexican in a bow tie who answers calls for a living is going to tell me I’m not good enough? Please,” the second one hissed, glaring around at the lobby.

“Forget this place. I heard Edmund Enterprises is hiring.”

“Gentlemen,” I called, and they turned, mouths gaping when they recognized me. Any other day, in any other setting, I’m sure this would have been comical. “I wish you good luck at Edmund Enterprises. Though, as of this morning, it became part of R.G. National.”

Goldie, who had been holding the doors open for me, allowed them to close when I stepped in.

“Find out who they are and make sure they can’t find a corporate job on this coast.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Referral letters my ass.

On the top floor, the doors opened to reveal the “Mexican in a bow tie,” my secretary, Rafael Morales, dressed in blue pants, a white shirt, and a green-and-white bow tie that matched his suspenders.

“We’ve got a problem,” he said, following me as I walked.

“You mean why those two pricks were even granted an interview?” I said, pushing open the glass doors to my corner office. Everything was in three colors: silver, white, and navy blue. The only thing that didn’t match was the row of autographed baseballs lined up against the window, along with my classical record collection that hung on the wall.

“Who? No, I mean a real problem.”

“I don’t like real problems, Rafael, they’re expensive,” I sighed, taking a seat behind my desk. Goldie brought over water for me.

“Good thing you’re rich.”

I glanced at him. “What is it?”

His brown eyes shifted to Goldie, who stood beside my desk. “You might want to give us a minute.”

She looked at me, and I nodded. Gathering up her work, she walked out, her heels clicking on the ground before closing the door behind her.

I turned to Rafael. “What is it?”

“Mr. Sinclair has moved the interviews up by a few weeks.”

“How far up are we talking?” I asked slowly.

“Five weeks from now.”

Damn it! We still didn’t have the data to present nor would we for another seven weeks at least. “You should have called me hours ago. Get Goldie back in here. We need to go over the plan—”

“I’ve already called the analysis office, and Goldie has been emailed. We can make the new deadline. I told them it wouldn’t be a problem—”

This was the important problem he decided to spring on me? “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t fire you.”

“We’re friends?”

“Since when?”

“Now you’re just being hurtful.” He put a file in front of my face. “I know what this means to you. If you get the Sinclair Group, you’ve hit a whole new level, and Rhys-Gallagher National will be what your father dreamed it would be. Roman Sinclair pushed this up to rattle you. Don’t let him.”

Just like that, my headache returned.

“So, you agreed even though I don’t have a game plan?”

“Yes, you do. I’ve seen it, and it will work. What you need is Roman’s trust. He’s an old-fashioned bigot, who believes the Sinclair Group is all about ‘family.’ Which is why the real problem is that you don’t have a very ‘family man’ vibe going on. He’ll be having a few dinners and parties until then. The first one is next Monday. You’ll need a date. So, I’ve been looking around and maybe found a way that you could at the very least fake it—”

“Pray on everything you have that you were wise enough not to get me a hooker?” I was going to kill him. I just wasn’t sure how yet. I wondered if I could put him in a box and ship him back to his parents’ house. His father would most definitely kill him.

“No,” he replied. I didn’t relax because he didn’t answer in one-word sentences.

“No?”

“No, I didn’t get you a hooker, I’m looking into an Escort. There’s a service that caters to your every need, finding exactly the right person for the situation. Not only are they discreet, but it’s true—”

I could see it in his eyes but I still couldn’t believe it. “Get the hell out of my office.”

“Well don’t say I didn’t try,” he muttered, placing paperwork in front of me. “Please sign on the dotted line, Sir.”

I snatched the paperwork from him. When people first met him, they always wondered how he and I could work together. The simple answer was I trusted him.

Rafael Morales and I grew up in school together. His father, Superintendent of Police Angelo Morales, had worked his way up the ranks in the police force to get where he was now. He’d managed to achieve that American Dream. He was able to send his kids to the best schools in the country, where they could mingle and associate with kids like me, who’d only grown up with money. He’d had Rafael’s whole life planned out for him. Then Rafael came out to his parents his senior year of high school, much to the dismay of his very religious Spanish family.

Superintendent Morales could sit across from drug sellers, murderers, and the like, but his son being gay? He disowned him faster than a speeding bullet, leaving Rafael to come live with my brother and I before going abroad. He came back, asked me for a job, and I gave him one. Ninety-nine percent of the time, he was great at it, but above that, Rafael, having grown up with cops and reporters, naturally new everything that was happening in the city and, most importantly, he was loyal to me.

Goldie knocked on the glass before sticking her head inside. “Mr. Rhys-Gallagher, your next appointment is here.”

“Send him in, we’re done, unless you have another secret plan you’d like to throw at me?” I glared up at Rafael.

He smiled, adjusting his bow tie. “Let me know if you—”

“Get out.”

He snickered, stepping aside as the investigator I hired almost a year ago entered. He was well-built, just like you’d expect anyone who was with the military for any capacity to be. He was formerly military intelligence. He still wore his dark hair in a buzz cut and had earned his job by being able to dig up dirt on me. He stood in front of me, his hands behind his back.

“Have you found anything, Finnick?”

“I have, Mr. Rhys-Gallagher. It’s taken me a while, since your brother was a drifter. He never stayed in one place for long—”

“Get to it.” I sat up, my heart beating faster. I knew it would take a while to find them. We only had a first name to go on. No location. Not even an exact date. But he’d found them.

“The woman’s name is Luella ‘Lulu’ Thorne, age twenty-six. She was passed from foster home to foster home until she graduated from North Valley High School, third in her class. She met your brother Donovan while waitressing at a bar in the city. Her son’s name is Alaric Ryan Thorne, he’s five years old, and was born on October ninth. They still live in Brooklyn.”

He placed a photo of a small boy with brown hair and bright blue eyes in front of me. He tightly hugged the woman beside him with a grin so wide, it showed off a missing tooth. He looked just like my brother and I had when we were that age. It was almost identical and, as remarkable as it was to see him, I couldn’t look away from the woman he was hugging.

It’s her!

My mind screamed in disbelief. It was the woman I slept with almost a year ago. The morning after she had just left. We slept together once more, and when I woke up, she was gone. No name, no number, nothing. In fact, it had been too perfect. Exactly what I needed. So, part of me, for a second, thought it really had to have been a dream, but Russell had informed me she called a taxi and left… Like a movie, it replayed in my mind. I'd gone through the guest list and staff, but I still hadn’t been able to find out who the hell she was. I knew it after that morning, the reason she knew to stop me from drinking and the reason she let me screw her—it was because I looked like my brother… She was using me as I was using her. I knew it, but I didn’t want to face it then.

“There’s more.”

“What?” I looked up.

“Your brother left her in a lot of debt. Bar tabs and loan sharks, etc. I guess the stress got to her, because she had Alaric prematurely, which led to him being deaf. He was in and out of hospitals until he was two.”

Goddamn it, Donovan! Sometimes I swear he really had a talent for fucking up everything he touched.

“She has paid most of the debt and hospital bills off, though.” There was a small pause as he looked to me.

“Please don’t tell me she was forced to become a stripper.” Because if that was the case, I was tempted to take a sledgehammer to my brother’s things. We had a bad mother, and now he was making the mother of his child look bad too.

“No. She became an escort. The company is a little shady. Whoever is running it keeps them on a short leash, screwing them out of more than eighty percent of their money.”

That wasn’t a little shady. That was full-blown corruption. Leaning back into my chair, my hands went to the back of my head. I would have preferred if she were a stripper. “Is she still doing it?”

He nodded. “From what I can tell, she’s trying to get out, she hasn’t made any large deposits in months and works part-time at a restaurant.”

“How much to get her out?”

“It depends on how much she’s worth to whoever is running the escort service. But I’m sure it will cost a pretty penny, and you buying her out might raise some flags. From what I have heard about the service itself, they apparently specialize in matching couples perfectly, so getting her might be a problem. She wouldn’t be going by her real name, and if you exposed that you knew her real name, well, that could cause more problems.”

I looked through the glass doors at Rafael as he typed on his computer out front. I called him.

“What can I—”

“Get in here.” I hung up. He frowned and came in, closing the door behind him. “What is the name of the escort place you were talking about?” I asked.

“The House of L.” He pulled out a black card with a single golden ‘L’ on it, placing it on my desk.

“Is this the place?” I asked Finnick. He nodded. “If I wanted someone in particular, could I ask for her?”

Rafael shrugged. “I don’t see why not, but I don’t think they use real names in a place like this—”

I gave him the photo. “Describe this woman to them. Say I want her for a week.”

His eyes widened as he realized who she was, he knew I was searching for them. He quietly went back to his desk, picked up his phone, and dialed.

“Do you think they’ll believe I fell in love with her after a week and want her permanently?” I asked Finnick. It was the only cover I could think of to get her out quietly.

“Enough money will make people believe anything.”

My phone rang, and I picked up.

“Got her.”

That was bloody fast. “And?”

“They said they only had one woman who fit that description. It has to be her.”

“Good—”

“Dorian, she costs a quarter of a million dollars.”

Two hundred fifty thousand for an escort? Are they insane? If Finnick was right, she wasn’t making that much, the company was. Whatever the price though, it didn’t matter.

“Dorian?”

“Do it. I don’t care.” Not when it came to something like this.

“Okay, but just remember, if they are charging that much for the week, imagine how much they will try to squeeze out of you to get her out.”

“I. Do. Not. Care,” I repeated.

I was going to get her out no matter how much it cost me. I had to undo all the wrongs my brother had done. It even went beyond that. I had to do this for my nephew. I had to do this for her, Luella Thorne, too, because I owed her personally.

LUELLA

“Have a good day, Lulu,” my boss and the rest of the staff said to me as they gathered their things at the front of the restaurant.

“You too.” I waved, grabbing the last box of glasses and taking them to the kitchen. I placed them in the back and took a deep breath, leaning against the deep sink.

My eyes wandered to each and every one of the brand new, stainless steel pots, the freshly polished flatbed countertop, the twin double-door fridges, and a chef’s best friends, the knives. It was all just beautiful, and one day I, Luella Thorne, would own my own restaurant. For now, I was just another soup cook at Serendipity. But a woman could dream, right?

Opening weekend was only a week away, and I hoped to start building my reputation as a chef. I hadn’t gone to school for this so this was a real break for me.

This is just the beginning.

Heading back out to the main floor, I heard the doors open again.

“Did one of you forget something—” I froze for the devil as she walked in, dressed in a dark red suit and white shirt, along with sunglasses and black Prada pumps.

“It’s been a long time.” She smiled, pulling the sunglasses from her face.

“Not long enough, get out,” I snapped at her.

She sat at one on my tables. “Now that is not how you treat a customer. You of all people should know that, my dear. Sit, let’s catch up.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Suit yourself. How much for a glass of wine?”

“We aren’t open yet.” And even if we were, I wouldn’t serve her.

“Not even for an old friend?”

“You are old, but we are sure as hell not friends.”

She smirked, and the wrinkles under her eyes stood out more. The devil, or Lady L, as I used to call her, was well into her early sixties, though she didn’t look a day over forty. She used to tell the girls the secret to her youthful appearance was great sex and an even better plastic surgeon, but the golden ticket was if we could find the plastic surgeon to have great sex with. She had long grayish-brown hair, pink lips, and hazel eyes. She could pass for my mother or sister. Being an orphan, I’d once asked her if she was my mother because of the resemblance. Luckily, God wasn’t that twisted.

“I have a client for you,” she said, and it made my skin crawl.

“Maybe you forgot, but I told you I was going to pay off the rest of my debt the right way.”

She folded her hands on the table. “I don’t know why you were in such a hurry to get out when you were doing so well. If you’d waited a few more months, you would’ve been debt free, have your own restaurant, and I’d leave you alone.”

“I already paid you everything. Or at least I should have, considering the money you’ve made off me. You used us. Fine. Whatever. I won’t fight you on it. But I’ll earn money like everyone else. The right way.”

“Like everyone else? The right way?” She laughed. “You truly refuse to see the truth, don’t you? Everyone else is miserable, and there is no right or wrong way to make money.”

“The law would disagree with you.”

“Unless you screw congressmen, and then all of a sudden the law changes. Funny how fickle this world is?” She replied.

“Even if everyone else is miserable, at least they can walk out into this world not feeling dirty. At least they are not whores.” The moment I said it, her posture changed, and I regretted saying it already.

“Whores?” She slowly stood up and walked to me. I didn’t back down. I met her face to face. “Now Luella, don’t talk about yourself like that. Men are willing to give thousands for a night with you. That should make you feel beautiful and powerful. Besides, let us not kid ourselves, the real reason you left was because of the money, not the shame.”

“I left because I wanted to.” Argh, I hated her. “But you are partially right, it was only when I realized you were nothing but a fucking thief and not the mother hen you pretend to be. You told us everything was 50/50 and you were there to make sure we made money safely. You made us believe you understood our struggle, but you don’t really care. You knew why I needed that money and you still cheated me. You tricked me into even more debt. You put the ‘expensive’ on my name just so we never get out of this life, so you can always make money off us. Just because you wear brand names and speak softly doesn’t make you anything less than a pimp. I will pay off everything my way. I will not spend another second thinking about you and your whorehouse.”

Her blue eyes narrowed. “You don’t miss it?”

“No.”

“You’re lying.”

“I don’t care what you think. Get out!”

“You can lie to the world, but you can’t lie to me. I know you. I remember how you were four years ago, naïve, broken, and desperate to save anyone, even though you were drowning yourself. I watched in awe at how you remade yourself. You were the only one of my girls who had permanent clients. One night with you, and they never wanted to leave. I recall one of your clients was so upset you were booked, he offered to pay triple. You may not be my daughter, but you are just like me, you loved it. There is nothing wrong with being good at or being paid for sex.”

“Go fuck yourself, preferably nowhere near me.”

I hated her because I felt like she spoke to the darker side of me, the broken part of me that enjoyed being wanted so desperately. She had always been the snake in the garden, and no matter what, I always ate the fruit.

Not this time.

“No,” I said. “No to the old Luella, and no to the client. Don’t you know what ‘no’ means anymore?”

“So, we are going to do this the hard way?” Her whole demeanor changed, and there she was, the real monster. The true devil. “How is your son, Alaric? Still talking with his hands?”

I clenched my fist. “Bring my son into this, and I will beat the ever-loving shit out of you.”

“I wonder what will happen to him if the world finds out who his mother is? What she’s done? Do you really think they will let you keep him—”

“Get out!”

“Do you really want him to go into the system? You of all people should know what it’s like, right? Do you think a disabled kid is going to make it long? I will make sure your face is everywhere. I will make sure your dreams crash and burn. Then you’ll be able to get out, and once you become known, those big clients aren’t going to want you anymore. You’ll really need to become a whore then.”

I wanted to scream, to cry, to kill her, to just make her go away. Instead, I stood there, silent and still.

“Aw, don’t be sad, Luella.” Her smile was cruel. She lifted a chocolate out of her purse and slid it between her lips, lifting her head up as if she were proud. “Think of the bright side. After all these months of vacation, you must be so tense. The real world can’t be treating you the same. I’ve been nice, gave you space, and besides, redheads and brunettes have been in demand, so I don’t need you. However, this client all but specially ordered you. So you will go, or I will make sure your boss and anyone else you think of ever running to throws you to the curb like trash. Do you understand me? You can have this fantasy life if you want, but I need you to take this client.”

God, when would this be over?

“When?” I hissed through my teeth.

“Tomorrow night, and for the rest of the week.”

“I don’t do weekly. My son—”

“He’s not going to want you every waking hour. Do what you do and charm him into letting you off for a few hours. Tell him you want to go shopping. Whatever it takes to make it work. He didn’t even blink an eye at the price.” She smiled and put on her shades, leaving a single card on the table.

When she rose, the doors opened, and Alaric ran in, holding a model airplane.

“Mommy, look,” he signed.

“Hello. So cute.” Lady L moved toward him, but I rushed between them, wrapping my arms around Alaric. She snickered and showed herself out.

Her parting words were, “Don’t disappoint him, Luella.”

“Who was that?” Alaric signed.

“I don’t know, she was looking for the boss. Did you have fun today?” I replied, forcing myself to smile.

He smiled back and lifted up his toy to show me. “Aunty Eva helped me.”

“I know, aren’t I a-maz-ing?” Eva said and signed as she joined us. Her dark black hair was cropped at her shoulders. She wore bell-bottom styled jeans and a crop top that exposed the freckles on her stomach that matched the ones on her face.

Alaric nodded, flying his plane around the tables.

Eva asked, “Why was the devil here?”

“Why else but to tempt me to sin again?” I forced a smile, giving Alaric two thumbs-up for his flying skills.

“Lulu—”

“I know.”

She sighed, not sure what else to say. Eva Sotiropoulos was my one and only friend. She also formerly worked for Lady L, however, she’d managed to work off her debts by taking as many clients as possible and even stripping to get through school. Unlike me, she held her head proudly no matter what. She now worked as a paralegal in the city. She’d even started a trust for Alaric.

“How long?” She finally asked.

“A week.”

“Luella! For Alaric’s sake, this can be the last time you despair for that long. He’s getting older, he notices.”

“I know.” I turned to watch Alaric, amazed at how happy he was. “But she has dirt on all of us. I’d rather do this than let her ruin me publicly. Can you imagine what would happen to him? They could take him away. It could ruin the rest of his life. I won’t let that happen. I want him to grow up normal and happy.”

“I’ll watch him from tomorrow, make some free time so he can still see you during the week.” She sighed.

“Thank you, I’ll call you.” I hugged her tightly before running to Alaric and picking him up, spinning him around.

He laughed, and it was the most beautiful sound in the world. This was all for him, so one day he'd never have to suffer.