We're a bunch of snakes and there's no telling when one of us will snap and turn on the other.
One thing you can absolutely trust—is that you can trust none of us.
Especially the no-good man walking directly toward me.
"Miller," he rasps, his voice cracking a bit. He hacks and pounds at his chest before extending his hand.
I don't take it, and it's a blatant sign of disrespect I do not care about violating. What's he going to do, shoot me?
"Mr. Gardella," I respond, because there's no way I can completely ignore him.
He coughs again. "I've always told you, you can call me Ricardo, kid."
"What can I do for you, Mr. Gardella?" I stand there, firmly rooted in place, my mind processing whether Alec and I could take both of Ricardo Gardella's bodyguards. It's possible, but probably unlikely, considering they're both nearing seven feet tall and easily twice our weight. Crazier things have happened, though.
Ricardo is a bold man, but I'm not sure he'd sick them on me simply for not calling him by his first name to his face, not here at The Manor, at least.
"I...I'd love to sit down with you sometime. Discuss a potential business venture."
"My apologies, Mr. Gardella. You must be under the impression that I'd work with a man like you." I step a hair closer, and his bodyguards both stiffen their stance. "I thought I've made myself clear in the past."
Ricardo's cheek turns up on one side and he laughs. "You're funny, boy." He slaps my shoulder, and I want nothing more than to end his life right here, right now, but I can't, and that alone kills me a little inside. "You're missing out. Business is booming. I just closed on this foreign deal that's set to make seven figures in its first two weeks. The time to strike is now, son."
He went from using my name, to calling me kid, and now son. Can this guy get any more fucking arrogant?
"And..." This time it's him that leans in toward me. "I hear you're still single. I could change that. You know I have a ravishing daughter..."
"I'm going to stop you there, Mr. Gardella." I close the distance until I can barely stomach the stench of his breath. "I would gladly purchase your daughter from you to get you to shut the fuck up, but I refuse to give you a penny of my money. Now, if you'll excuse me." I don't bother coming up with a reason for my leave; it's pretty damn clear I want nothing to do with this man—how he doesn't realize that I'll never know.
But that isn't my problem. And neither is his failing business. He can claim he's doing well all he wants. The rest of us aren't stupid enough to fall for his lies, though.
I walk toward the entrance of the lavish hotel, not turning around to acknowledge any of them. Ricardo hasn't trained his attack dogs on me yet so if he were going to make an example out of my disrespect, the time for doing so has passed.
I'm sure I'll suffer the consequences at some point, but for now, I'm not going to concern myself with such matters. I have more pressing things to attend to anyway. Like the meeting I have with Dominic tonight and the one-hundred-million-dollar purchase I made just to fire one single man.
6
CORA
Istop myself from raking my hand through my hair. It's too perfect to fuck with, and I'm about to meet with a client, so I must look my best. Appearance is everything. I mean, that's quite literally what I do for a living—make things look good.
The desire to call the building's architect and berate him for the placement of the light fixtures in the living room is strong, but I know now that it can't be changed. Every fucking unit in this entire building will have stupidly placed lights, and there's not a damn thing I can do about it.
I went over the details at least a dozen times, and somehow the incompetent idiot still managed to fuck it up.
Sucking in a breath, I exhale and walk the rest of the unit, making notes on my tablet and killing time before my client arrives.
Each unit will have its own unique flare, including my client’s visions and my ideas on how to bring them to life. This entire project is enough to make or break my career, and I'll be damned if I allow some shitty light fixtures to ruin it for me.
"Why does it matter, Cora? You don't even belong to yourself anymore," I whisper to no one but myself and make my way toward the entrance of the four-thousand-square-foot unit.
It's the biggest one available, and it's reserved for our high-end clients. I have no idea who's going to walk through that door this morning. It could be Beyonce or Taylor Swift for all I know.
On second thought, they probably have someone who does this kind of thing for them so it's possible I'll be meeting with some random assistant who handles shit like this.
But instead of either of those women walking in the front door, it's my asshole boss.
"Cora, baby." He comes right over and wraps his arms around me, pulling me into him without any consent given. "How's my girl?" Joshua plants a disgusting kiss on my temple and holds me at arm's length. "Let me look at you." His gaze trails my body, hovering way too long on my tits and waist.
