Betrayal (Infidelity Book 1) - Aleatha Romig Page 0,80

They’d never know that I’d sold myself. All they’d know is that I went to Columbia and they were never burdened with the bill. In my mind, my defiance of their plan gave my decision credence.

Twenty thousand dollars per month for one year with no expense for rent. Even if I needed to purchase essentials, I could save money. I already had a decent wardrobe. After only one year, I could ensure my tuition at Columbia, not just for the rest of this year, but also for the entire three years of the program.

When I stepped into the lobby Patrick and Cy were both there. Their questioning gazes asked what they couldn’t verbally.

Patrick wrapped me in a hug. “Hey, little cousin, how are you?”

I shrugged. “I think I’m all right.”

Cy smiled at us. “I know a great little piano bar. Who’d like a drink?”

“Me,” Patrick and I said in unison.

UNDER THE LIGHTS of my private gym, the small beads of perspiration glistened on my skin. Faster and faster I pushed as sweat coated my body, saturating my shirt and shorts. Harder, quicker, one more mile… the internal commands kept me moving, kept my feet in rhythm as I continued my workout. Sometimes I wondered who I punished the most—me or the treadmill. I knew the treadmill wasn’t a person, yet sometimes I thought of it that way.

I’d assign it a name and beat it into submission: each slap of my foot was a mark, each pounding mile was the pushing of my designated person’s limits. Allowing my mind to imagine while experiencing the physical exertion was socially more acceptable than the actual acts I envisioned. The law frowned upon bondage and corporal punishment. As CFO, senior vice president, and heir apparent of Demetri Enterprises, acting out my desires in real life would meet more than the law’s disapproval. My father, Oren Demetri, CEO and president of Demetri Enterprises, would head the line to cast the first stone.

It didn’t matter that I’d spent the last six years learning the ins and outs of every company in the Demetri Enterprises portfolio. I knew the CEOs, as well as their assistants, by name. I knew which ones made profits and which ones reported losses, quarterly as well as annually. I knew the extent of our investment and the margin on our returns.

My father would tell anyone who’d listen how he’d built Demetri Enterprises from nothing. He’d talk about his great ability, even at a young age, and how others had used it for their benefit. Then he’d bore the listener with his one-man rendition recounting his subjugated life of underappreciation, until the day he decided enough was enough and he deserved the benefits of his abilities—the day Demetri Enterprises was conceived.

In all of Oren’s grand speech, he’d forget to mention how it all nearly came crashing down. He wouldn’t admit that he was unprepared for the crash that brought Wall Street to its knees. Experts have argued that it hadn’t been as bad as Black Monday in 1987; the difference was that the crash that almost ended Demetri Enterprises lasted longer.

Talking heads discussed the loss of paper wealth versus real wealth. That comparison was indistinguishable when margins were called and there was nothing to give. With financial institutions closing their doors and the unemployment rate soaring, panic became the norm.

Not long out of graduate school, it was my knowledge and understanding of the financial climate that kept Demetri from scrumming to the same fate as many other companies. My father may have birthed Demetri, he may have manhandled his way through board meetings and backroom agreements, but I had the education, knew the history, and worked my ass off to keep it solvent.

While Oren swam his way out of a bottle, I worked the new environment. It was a different terrain. Not unnavigable.

That’s not to say I didn’t take risks—I did. With me, Demetri Enterprises diversified. Every decision was calculated. It was a time when few businesses were investing. Therefore, even small investments were made with painstaking analysis. I didn’t approach an opportunity because someone in a dark room of a private club told me I should. I scrutinized the data, the market, the climate, everything. Not only did Demetri survive, it was now stronger than ever.

That dedication to Demetri Enterprises cost me more than I ever imagined. I sold a part of my soul and lost her in the process. Would it have made it better if Oren had acknowledged my sacrifice?