Rise (Rise & Fall Duet #1) - Grahame Claire Page 0,25

front of him. “Your guilt or innocence matters not to me. But I’ll be damned if you soil this family’s name. If you did what you’re accused of, you should’ve at least had the decency not to get caught.”

Bastard.

I balled my fist to keep from throwing all the contents of my desk at him. He’d take too much pleasure in an emotional display.

“You have an appointment first thing in the morning with Kane Zegas and Patrick Whitley. Do not miss another.”

The teenage boy in me who never acted out wanted to ask, Or what? Instead, I kept my mouth shut. My silence was more effective than an outburst.

“I expect you won’t neglect your responsibilities to the company in spite of the distraction.” He moved toward the door. “I’ll fix this, but you will cooperate.”

The heaviness of his presence lingered after he’d disappeared. I stared at the empty space. If I were locked away, at least I wouldn’t be as accessible to him.

The thought of my father having to get permission to speak to me was appealing. In the movies, prisoners were portrayed as having the right to refuse to see visitors.

One sliver of stress eased at the idea of rejecting his visits.

Who was I kidding? If I were incarcerated, he’d never visit me.

He’d disown me.

That wasn’t such a horrible notion either.

Except I’d built the company that meant so much to him. Made it better. Made it mine, even if he was the figurehead. It had given me solace when nothing else could.

Real estate had given me purpose, a focus, a reason to put one foot in front of the other. A lucky side effect was that I loved it. If I could choose a profession, that would be it. Not many people could say that.

But I hated my father.

For the way he treated Beau and Teague.

For taking my mother for granted.

For being a fraud to the outside world.

For behaving as if my existence was to serve him.

Very few truly knew how he was. To them, we were a powerhouse family. Close-knit. Near perfect. Unstoppable.

He was a loving, doting father. A man who’d lost his wife and raised three successful children.

He’d triumphed over tragedy.

While that much was true—he hadn’t let Mother’s death keep him down—the rest was a sham. He only cared about my siblings and me as far as it affected him.

I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d already met with the lawyers himself. He’d obviously had the story buried, and there was no telling who or what amount he’d paid to stop the investigation. He’d probably find someone in a desperate situation to take the fall for me.

Money solved all his problems.

Money and power were the reasons he breathed.

Greed consumed him.

And I didn’t care about any of those things.

Money and power were a means to an end. I had enough and wasn’t motivated by either.

“Is he gone?”

I lifted my gaze to find my sister in the doorway. “For now.”

“Do you think Satan leaves that chill behind when he makes an exit?” She kicked off her shoes.

The slight clutter reminded me of Lexie. Were her shoes by the front door?

“I can’t imagine it would have anything on Father’s.” I retrieved two glasses from the bar. “You’re home early.”

“I’ve been thinking about your property.” She stretched out on the sofa near the fireplace.

“Still believe it’s a bad idea?” I lifted her feet and sat, replacing them on my lap.

I hadn’t had anyone at home since the last time she’d visited. While I was happy for Teague, I’d liked having them both here. It was nice not to be alone. Nice to be with the people who mattered most to me.

“Yeah, but you got me out of the hell-no camp to just a no.” She adjusted a pillow behind her back. “Which is pretty impressive since you weren’t really trying.”

“Maybe big brother knows what he’s talking about?” Some of the pressure in my chest released.

She downed her drink. “That’s a hell no.”

“Why are we such strangers?”

Beau furrowed her brow. I was surprised by my spontaneous question also.

She thought for a minute. “It’s hard when we live so far away.”

“We speak most every day,” I argued.

“About business. I don’t know if you’ve been on a date, out to a baseball game, or slept with most of the city. I could get more info out of that painting than you.” She pointed to the oil painting of red slashes on a white canvas.

So I wasn’t verbose. Beau and Teague knew more about me than anyone.