Change Rein - Anne Jolin Page 0,7
want any”—he hesitates, clearing his throat—“casualties?”
As I grab the edge of my marble counter, my knuckles turn white. “Not a hair harmed, Francis.” My voice is heavy with barely harnessed fury at the mere suggestion. “You’d do well to pass that down the line, as I’ll no doubt seek retribution for any losses I incur.”
“Yes, sir.”
After ending the call, I snag the tie on the counter and hang it over the back of my neck. I’m so distracted these days that I can barely get anything done. The least of which seems to be dressing myself.
Grabbing my Armani suit coat off the edge of my bed, I eye the newspaper article beside it. For two weeks, I’ve carried the catastrophe with me everywhere. Looking at it now overwhelms me with equal parts anger and lust. The absurdity of its claims is absolute bullshit, but the underlying depth of beauty still manages to overshadow it. Nonetheless, I’ll have his head on a platter in due time, even if I have to pay someone to cut it off and serve it to me.
“Breakfast, sir?” my housekeeper offers when the heels of my cowboy boots ring out on the kitchen tile.
“No, thank you, Sarah.”
The older woman scowls at me, never happy when I skip breakfast.
“I’ll be out of town for the remainder of the week. Go spend some time with your family.”
“I couldn’t hardly. There’s so much to do—”
“Your son is here.” Looking up from working the knot on my tie, I can see the confusion on her face. “His visa has been pushed through. In fact”—I lift my sleeve to check the time on my watch—“his flight’s arriving in less than an hour.” Stepping forward, I lean down, kissing her once on the cheek. “There’s a car waiting outside to take you to the airport. I’ll see you in a few weeks’ time.”
Sarah has been my housekeeper, cook, and friend for the last nine years. Her son has been unsuccessfully trying to immigrate from Greece on a student visa. So I had a friend of a friend push the paperwork through as a favor.
“Come back here, you rascal!” she shrieks, all five-foot-one of her scurrying up behind me. “Eat,” she demands, shoving a bagel into the outside pocket of my briefcase. “And thank you.” Her bottom lip wobbles as tears pool in her eyes.
I kiss her once more on the top of her head. “It’s my pleasure. If you need more time to get him settled, let me know,” I say before stepping around her and opening the door to my attached garage.
Some might think it’s particularly odd that I have a four-car garage but only two vehicles. However, my architect would hear of nothing smaller during the design of the house. I believe he said it was imperative that someone of my wealth and subsequent status have more than two doors. I came close to kicking his mouthy, money-grubbing ass off my property, but he managed to save himself. Selling me on the idea when he asked where my wife would park if I only had two. Do I have a wife? No. Nonetheless, the point was a solid one.
After rounding the front of my red convertible Corvette, I slide onto the tan leather seat and toss my briefcase onto the passenger’s seat. After pressing the garage door opener on my visor, I roll the engine over while the morning light floods the room. It’s been a particularly hot summer in Alberta, wildfires clearing out massive areas at a time without much warning. I can feel the strength behind the sun as I pull out into the driveway.
The car I sent for Sarah is gone, so I take a minute to admire the home I had built nearly ten years ago. In fact, it’ll be ten years come October, the same month as my thirty-third birthday. If anything, I’ve grown to love it more every day.
The roughly eight-thousand-square-foot log home sits on nearly three hundred acres of farmland. The entire house is encased in floor-to-ceiling windows that run in line with the triangle-shaped roof. The red front door was my mother’s idea, as was the fountain in the middle of the circular driveway. While I’ll admit I balked at the idea at first, the result is gorgeous. The stone fountain is a roughly eight-foot-high horse rearing onto its back legs, and water cascades around it into the pool below during the summer. Either that or the deck running the expanse of