I closed my eyes for half a second.
“I hate that fuckin’ event.”
“I know.”
“Remind me why I go.”
“Because billionaires who donate millions to children’s hospitals look good on magazine covers.”
“Ah,” I said. “Public image.”
Darius nodded.
“And every powerful family in California attends.”
Exactly why I hate it.
Jealous men.
Old money.
Politicians pretending they’re not corrupt.
And criminals pretending they’re respectable.
Sharks smelling blood anytime somebody’s empire shifts.
Right now, mine was shifting.
So, they would be watching.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll go. But no date on my arm.”
Darius nodded once.
“I’ll have your suit ready.”
He turned to leave but paused when the office door opened again.
My receptionist stepped in first.
Behind her came something unexpected.
A wheelchair.
Marcel sat in it, looking like death dressed in a tailored suit.
His nurse-assistant pushed him into the office.
I stood immediately, shocked as hell to see him in California. He hated the United States.
“Grandfather.”
Marcel waved his assistant away and rolled himself closer to my
“You look irritated.” He chuckled.
“Los Angeles traffic, I have to get into it,” I replied, dryly.
