I didn’t even want to take her when she was given to me at first. I should have refused.
Maybe even then I recognized what she would do to me. How she would change who I am, and destroy everything I’ve worked for. When they put me behind bars, they’ll figure out everything. The corruption, the money, all the lies.
Even knowing that, I wouldn’t hesitate to take her if I had the chance to do it all over again. My hand clenches into a fist, firming my resolve. Even if I couldn’t change a damn thing, I’d still accept that sick fuck’s offer.
She was given to me.
Now she’s mine.
Chapter 1
Zander
I clasp my hands behind my back, staring out of the floor-to-ceiling window in my office. It’s on the top floor of Penn Square, one of the three tallest skyscrapers in the city. My fingers run along the cold metal of my Tag Heuer watch as I let my gaze fall to the world beneath me. My shoulders are squared and the rush of the city flows easily through my blood.
This is where I thrive, where I make the deals that run this city.
“Are you listening to me?” my father’s voice spills from the speaker on my desk, and the corners of my lips turn up into a smirk.
“I am.” I answer easily with an air of confidence I learned from him.
“You never should have accepted.” His words are sharp and firm. But he’s right.
A heavy sigh leaves me as my eyes narrow at the park directly beneath the building. Although my blood chills at my father’s words, I ignore him, cracking my knuckles and continuing to watch the specks of people moving about.
I’m the one that kept our family name from falling. We were going bankrupt because of his bad investments and trusting the wrong people. My teeth grind as I clench my jaw. Yes, I fucked up, but not nearly as much as he has. It's been almost ten fucking years of me rising to the top and carrying our legacy with me, creating not just a pristine reputation in the eyes of the community and business elites. I've also worked hard to create one of fear for those who run the underside of this city.
There are many men with power, but they all owe someone… and I happen to be that someone. My father’s voice drones on as I move my gaze toward the streets. My father’s still admonishing me for a single mistake.
A bad investment named Daniel Brooks.
That dumb fuck owes me a lot of money, more money than he should.
He knew how much debt he had, and he still gambled away my money. He thinks I don’t know… I know everything. I was the first to know when the sum left his account and wasn’t directly passed to mine.
This happens from time to time. Everyone owes me, and that’s how I like it. It’s only a matter of time before something gets between me and the money they owe me.
I don’t care; I always come out on top, and that’s what matters. Money isn’t power, it’s leverage. Being owed is power. True power. And that’s what I want. It's what I have. But right now Brooks isn’t an asset, and I have no way of knowing just how he’s going to pay me close to the half a million I’m due. It’s not the largest sum, but it’s a deal that was public. A debt that many are aware of, and therefore, must be paid.
“Did you hear me?” My father’s voice is low as I turn from the city to face my hard maple desk, my eyes focused and narrowed on the black corded phone that came with this office. It’s at odds with the modern touches, but the line is traceable and I’ve been able to use that to my advantage more than a time or two.
“I did,” I answer although I’d rather hang up the phone altogether. I don't wait for him to reply.
“Brooks owes me more than what’s excusable. More than he’s worth.” I take my seat, leaning back and propping up my feet on the long, sleek desk.
“You can’t allow him to get away with it.” My father speaks with authority.
Brooks may be a high-up executive and think he’s untouchable, but the alcoholic, gambling degenerate is going to give me my money one way or the other. And then I’m done with him. I have enough pull to bury him if I want. I tap my fingers on the hard wood top, debating. The rap, rap, rap echoes rhythmically and calms me slightly.
I could destroy him slowly. Cripple him financially and embarrass him in every way possible. But not many would know why, and he’s too pathetic to waste that much time and effort on. No, I’ll just take my money and be through with him. He’ll hang himself on his own.
My eyes lift to the office door as a solid knock rebounds through the large space.
“Come in,” I call out as my back settles against the leather desk chair, but my fingers never stop tapping on the desk as I wait for the door to open.
Charles walks in with a mask of indifference. I’m used to it. When I first met him all those years ago at boarding school, I thought there was something more behind his dark eyes. But now I know the truth; the only emotion I’ve ever seen reflected in his eyes is anger. It's that, or nothing. And I prefer nothing to his temper.
With short pitch-black hair and eyes to match, Charles is just as lethal as he looks. He didn’t grow up with the lifestyle I’m accustomed to, but I made sure to make friends with him. It’s been mutually beneficial.
I nod toward the phone before he has a chance to speak. Sharing a glance, he quietly shuts the door behind him, a soft click the only sound in my office.
“I’m going to have to call you back,” I lean forward, speaking into the phone and preparing to hang up, knowing damn well that I won’t return the phone call. There’s nothing to discuss. He’ll see me at the next social event and until then, the only thing he’ll give me is shit over this debt.
Charles is silent as he takes a seat across from me. Placing an elbow on the arm of the chair, he stares back at me with his finger resting on his bottom lip.
Large black and white photos of the nighttime skyline decorate the wall behind him. The furnishings in my office are entirely black and white, with the walls painted a light grey. To an observer, my office may seem as if it’s a minimalist and masculine design. And that’s true, but more importantly, it suits me. Cold and simple. No room for bullshit.
I didn’t even want the fucking blown-up photos, but I needed something to make the room seem… normal. Complete, even.
“We have a problem,” Charles finally says after I've hung up the phone.
I may be deceptive. Born with a silver spoon in my mouth, I come off as playful and charming. They don’t see me coming. And most of my clients never have a problem with me. The legal ones, anyway. It’s a handshake and a smile, an exchange of money and profit. Those are ninety percent of my interactions. But the other ten percent, well that’s where Charles comes in. I can’t get my hands dirty. My reputation is everything.
He doesn’t attend the social galas and business openings. He doesn’t give a fuck about rubbing elbows and being seen with the right people. He meets his clients in back alleys. As far as anyone’s concerned, he’s an associate.
Everyone in my life is just an associate. And that’s never going to change.
“And what’s that?” I ask him as my lips kick up into a charming smile. It’s always there. Even though it doesn’t affect Charles, I can’t help the false expression. I’ve learned to play this role. It pays me well.