He growled on the end there, and shit, I’d never felt words so deep. We both knew who our families were. More specifically, who our fathers were.
They were in prison for the same crime.
They had both done the same deeds, held the same sins. And I could imagine the sobering reality of our pasts was even worse for Royal. He had to stare in the face the woman our fathers had hurt so deeply every day. December was my best friend.
But she was also his wife.
Sometimes I forgot that, my burden heavy but his probably heavier. He no doubt had to work through a lot of shit to even be with December, a lot of guilt that, though it had nothing to do with him, I was sure he felt. I sure had.
Our fathers were our blood, and despite their sins being their own, we continued to hold the weight of them.
Royal placed his hands together. “I’m not fully involved with my father’s businesses yet. I’m just getting my feet wet since I’m in school, but even in the things I’ve taken on, people were trying to handle me. Get me to be a yes man to my father’s agendas.” He shook his head. “I called to hell with that. I let them know real quick I wasn’t my dad. I wouldn’t uphold that agenda, and hell if my future child would absorb that legacy I had as an example growing up.”
I had to pause him for a second, putting my hand out.
He smiled at me, nodding. “Yeah, I’m going to be a dad.”
“Jesus, man.” Completely floored, jaw dropped. “December’s the mother, right?”
Obviously, she was the mother. Obviously, I was giving him a hard time, and for about a second, I thought he’d knock me to the floor. He raised his fist and everything.
“Yeah, she’s the fucking mother, asswipe.” He gifted me with a rare chuckle. “We just found out. You didn’t notice she wasn’t drinking the other night?”
I’d been all over the place that evening, and that’d been before Bri and I had an argument. I’d been trying to make sure she was okay, comfortable and everything.
I felt like a true asshole now for not noticing other things. Then again, my best friend hadn’t told me either. I started to state that, and like Royal knew, he raised his hands.
“I think I ruined the surprise,” he said. “She wants to tell you herself. Ask you to be godfather and all that.”
Holy shit.
“He will have a grand total of four. Knight, LJ, and Jax included in that number.”
“Or she.” I crossed my leg at the knee, and he shot that lovely scowl.
“He will have four, and he won’t see the legacy of my father. My dad beat the shit out of me most of my life. Blamed me for things that had nothing to do with me. It took a long while for me to see that, and when he does eventually make his way out of prison, old and fucking decrepit, he’ll get to see the product of a good business. A fair business that his goddamn son built after destroying the money-grubbing clusterfuck his was. It will be a glorious day, and I can’t fucking wait.”
I leaned forward, the deepest conversation I’d ever had with this guy. I faced him. “You deserve that.”
“And you do too.” He nodded. “Don’t let these people take advantage of you. Stand up. Stand firm. I love business. I love making money, but I don’t have to do it my father’s way. You can be the same.”
I thought about that, enjoying business too. I did, but definitely not as much as other things.
“What if you don’t love business?” I asked, shrugging. “What if I enjoy it, have a love for it, but have other passions too?”
That was a great way to put it. I always saw myself as a businessman, but there were things I enjoyed more by far.
Really, this was the deepest conversation Royal and I ever had. This guy and I didn’t talk. Not about anything deep.
He tilted his head. “Then you either do what you want, step down, and let your people run shit the way they want.” He shrugged. “Deposit the checks and go fulfill those passions…”
“Or?”
He grinned. “Maybe figure out a way to fuse the two. You’re in charge either way.” He nodded. “And that’s also a goddamn glorious thing.”
I laughed. Yeah, it was. We had the final say. We were it. Our fathers made us that way through pain and suffering, but that didn’t have to continue. It could definitely start with us, change.
I put my hand out, and Prinze studied it for just a moment before taking it.
“Make ‘em fucking cringe, Prinze,” I said, nodding. “Your father?”
He squeezed my hand, smirking. “You, too, Mallick. You will, too.”
I would.
We all would.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ramses
The decision to go see my father wasn’t a hard one. It had been before.
It just wasn’t now.
It almost felt easier after the meeting I’d had with my executive board today. A long time coming and I held nothing but confidence upon being escorted through the white collar prison. Governors and countless politicians had frequented the harsh brick halls.
Absolutely fitting.
Several guards guided me through, one after the other, an attentive assembly line. I was asked if I needed anything constantly. Doted over as if royalty. Nothing but the best for the affluent son of a rich killer. Dad may not have known about the murder of December’s sister until after the fact, but his help with the cover-up basically put him in the same category as my uncle.
At least, in my eyes.
The man who raised me had contributed to no white collar crime, yet here he was in the nicest prison in the state. Money sure did get one the best.
His quarters were no exception.
Private and away from the fray, two armed guards outside let me through. The sole heir of a self-imposed god didn’t speak to his criminal-ass father from behind plate glass. He got the full view, all-star treatment. They took me right in to see my father.
“Mallick. You got a visitor.”
At an old oak desk, actually writing like he had business to attend to. My father in an orange jump suit, his beard cut and trimmed, office ready.
The sight twitched a scowl.
That he could be arrogant enough to live his days this way, like he had the right for any type of comfort or luxury. His head lifted from his desk, and he was surrounded by the same, countless books on his shelves, a chess set in the corner.
His bed even had a comforter.
I smirked at this point, the luxuries of what money and status could buy. Sad thing was, my father’s name alone could get him these things. He hadn’t built this prison, conflict of interest, but he’d made money off one or two in the state. He’d had his hands dipped in everything, businesses all around.
I’d make it my mission to take him down a peg, starting now, and getting up from his desk, he didn’t seem at all surprised to see me.
He even smiled.
He was arrogant enough to when he set his pen down and his guards arranged our meeting space. Dad was given a chair, myself the same. We could sit with each other, talk with the other, but he couldn’t come within ten feet of me. This was something I’d requested.
At the present, I held more power than this man, unbuttoning my jacket and taking a seat. I’d come here straight from the office.