Corrupted Queen - Nicole Fox Page 0,10
was expensive and exhausting, but at least because of it, I was spared much of the everyday tedium that accompanied being a billionaire CEO. My assistant Jenny made polite apologies for the various fundraisers, galas, and grand openings I couldn’t attend, leaving me to focus on the bloody business at hand.
The tentative peace forged between the younger Walsh and I has freed up a lot more time, and certain pressures have necessitated a return to the boardroom. Those pressures are also what have brought me to this press conference, where I am about to announce a cut in funding to a number of Belluci Inc.’s drug and alcohol rehabilitation centers.
“You need to look less miserable when you’re on the podium,” Vito advises from beside me.
“I don’t want to do this,” I mutter.
He claps me on the back and I wince. “Sorry,” he says, noting my discomfort.
The wound in my shoulder has knitted together nicely, and only smarts now when I bump it or try to lift anything heavy. My legs, on the other hand, still ache almost every second of the day. I have gotten used to the pain.
“It’s fine,” I tell him.
Vito’s expression twists into concern. “I know you don’t want to do this, but you have a role to play. I’m sure you’re a little out of practice, but you need to be the billionaire they’re expecting.”
He means that I need to slip back into my CEO persona. Gentle smiles, well-timed laughter, and no public displays of menace or intimidation. If I could operate Belluci Inc. the way I operate the Family, things would run a lot more efficiently. Unfortunately, threats of violence in an office environment tend to lead nowhere but human resources.
I grit my teeth, listening as my publicist Carmen Book lays out the format of the conference. I will make a speech, then answer a few questions. Should be simple enough. Only, the words I need to say burn at the bottom of my throat like bile.
Vito comes closer, stroking his beard with a sympathetic smile. “This is a small sacrifice to avoid a larger catastrophe. You are doing what you have to do.”
He is right, but somehow, the pill is no easier to swallow.
My thoughts drift to Alexis, as they inevitably do when I’m mired in stress. I can see her plump lips and rosy cheeks in my mind’s eye, and the pools of ocean blue that would hold my gaze as she told me to relax. She was good at calming me down. She was also the best at riling me up. Even after I tugged back the businessman veil to expose the wicked criminal underneath, she never pulled her punches. She didn’t care that I was a mob boss, or if she did, she didn’t let that knowledge deter her from calling me an asshole to my face.
I wonder if that was Felicity’s appeal to my father. She was always a dragon of a woman.
The security guard at the side of the door presses a finger to his earpiece and nods at me. It is time to go. Vito pats me on the back one last time in a way that would feel condescending coming from anyone else. From him, it is the encouragement I need.
I stride through the door and up onto the podium. I hear the click and whoosh of dozens of camera flashes, their lights blinding me. Carmen offers an encouraging smile as she exits the stage, but her gaze stings with fury. She doesn’t understand this move and begged me against it. Her job is to keep the public sweet on me. My job is to protect my empire.
I go to the mic and stand, looking out at the sea of reporters who have gathered to witness my horrible proclamation. I try to keep my lips lifted, but my foul mood keeps trying to tug them back down.
And then I do my duty. I announce the cut in funding to the program and the closure of several facilities. I do it gently, regurgitating a script of keywords and meaningless rhetoric while switching the focus to the charitable work Belluci Inc. accomplishes in several other important sectors. I furrow my brow as I express my grave regret at the failure of the program. I smile, almost apologetically, as I contemplate a brighter future. All the while, the eyes of my audience grow brighter and brighter.
I try not to imagine how they will condense my shameful display into tweets and