arms over his chest, resting his forearms on his protruding belly and propping the screen door open with his foot. “No. I don’t think so. I don’t want my property being destroyed. Brings down the value.”
I couldn’t help but lift my eyebrow in surprise as I looked around the porch. He had a weathered plastic lawn chair a few feet from the door, an array of other trash leaning against the wall, and enough beer cans to make a nice profit if he were to recycle them.
“Right,” I said and really enunciated the word before looking back at his face.
I saw the anger cross his face, watched as he clenched his jaw. He took a step back, and I knew he was going to close the door on me. Fuck being nice. I reached out to stop him, placing my hand on the wood, but the action came up against resistance and clearly caught him by surprise. Because of my sudden action, the door pushed inward with a little more force than necessary, which caused me to stumble forward, the side of my face smacking into the corner of the screen door.
Pain slammed into my cheek, and I gasped at the sudden sting.
“You stupid bitch.” The words were grumbled from him, and I took a step back, lifting my hand to my cheek and rubbing the tender area.
There’d no doubt be a bruise, but it was my own fault.
“Get the hell off my property before I call the cops for harassment and trespassing.” This guy was a real piece of work. “Don’t come here again trying to get me to do shit for your family. I’m their landlord, not their damn friend to give favors.”
He slammed the door in my face, and I worried I’d just made things a lot worse for my family. Not only did I probably make it so now he had a grudge toward them, but for some stupid reason, I thought trying to stop him from closing the door had been a good idea. I’d just been so pissed it had been instinct to do what I’d done.
But all that had granted me was humiliation and what would no doubt probably be a nasty bruise come morning.
I heard him engage the lock on the other side of the door, and I turned and left, walking down the steps and back for the taxi, still rubbing my cheek. Despite my ego and face being bruised, I was more worried about the fallout of me trying to help.
12
Lucius
I ran a hand over my eyes, wanting nothing more than to head home and end the workday.
I rotated in my chair so I was staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows of my office, looking at the cityscape.
After meeting with Michael yesterday, shit had gotten real and pretty damn clear.
Financially, if I didn’t follow my father’s demand and have an heir within a year, I’d still be well off, having real estate properties in my name, stocks, and a thick savings account that had been growing over the years. So in that respect, I’d be fine, could even start my own business if I really wanted to.
But it wasn’t just about money. It was about the business I helped grow and all the employees who were like family. I was leaning more toward trying to figure out how to handle this, with everyone who worked under the Blacksmith umbrella not getting caught in the crossfire.
I didn’t want to see anybody lose their job, but I knew if it was sold off, that was a very real possibility. Layoffs with mergers and business liquidations was quite common, and I didn’t want to see anyone hurt over my father’s from-the-grave demands and my lack of forcing the heir situation.
I needed to set something up to make sure everyone was protected in that regard. But depression settled heavily within me at the very thought of losing the company. I wanted to have children but with the right person. I didn’t want my hand forced at it. And I wanted to have a company that my child or children could inherit, could help run when they were older.
A very real family business we all contributed to and watched grow and be successful.
But that wasn’t going to happen with this company, it seemed. Because it was too abhorrent for me to force a child into this world simply for the fact that I didn’t want to lose the company. I wasn’t a coldhearted bastard like my