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My mind is blown by his casual indifference. What the fuck? "Yeah. Lucius didn't tell me, nor did you for that matter."
The first bell rings, but I fix my gaze on my cousin, unrelenting. He sighs. "Look, we can talk about it with Dad, but it's pretty simple. Dad has money, and he loves you." With a shrug, he adds, "Plus, you know how it is with company shares. Dad built the company—the investors trust him to have its best interest in mind. Me? I'm a wild card, regardless of how much time I spend working there. I could go crazy and devalue their stock. Splitting his fifty-one percent ensures I won't have too much power when I take over."
"I'm getting half of the company?" I practically yell.
Oh, no. No, no, no.
So, one thing about my uncle. I love him. He loves me. I trust him to have my best interest at heart in all things. But I decided long, long ago that I never wanted to get anywhere close to his business.
When he was young and his parents moved from Italy, his dad couldn't easily find a job with his broken English, so he reached out to a cousin who gave him some work. It was dodgy as fuck, although I don't know the details. All I know is that my uncle and his brother walked away from all that, never getting involved.
This is the pretty version, wrapped in a red bow and covered in unicorn sprinkles, that I am going to die believing. Because, as I said, I love my uncle. And I'm smart enough to stick to that.
I've seen him take meetings with the cousins he's officially not doing business with. I've heard some of his phone calls. I've seen blood on his collar. I know what he does isn't always clean, and I can read between the lines.
Astrella Public Relations does exactly what it says on the sign: it makes people—and companies—look good. And to make the assholes running the world appear like decent human beings? Well, it doesn't just take graphic designers, charity galas, and pictures with adorable babies.
Therefore, I've promptly ignored all of the incriminating evidence I've ever heard, seen, or guessed. I trust Uncle Lucius to never do anything evil. He has a strong grasp of justice. He wouldn't crush an old lady to help a giant. That's all I need to know.
But I sure as fuck do not ever want to haveanythingto do with Astrella PR. Nuh-uh.
"Half of his shares," Lucas clarifies. "Like, after his death. Which isn't going to happen for a long, long time. What's the big deal?"
I could strangle my cousin, but it's not his fault. I need to have a chat with my uncle, and soon.
The last bell rings, so I shake my head. "See you later."
I run to Calculus. As the teacher isn't here yet, I text my uncle. Brunch Sunday?
He immediately replies. I’m out of town. Next Sunday?
I send a thumb up and I try to shelve all of my questions until then.
The morning drags, until I realize with some horror that I'm looking forward to Literature. What the hell is wrong with me? I should go see a shrink.
I spot Cain at his usual place as soon as I walk in. Jason's seat is empty. I frown, unused to see Cain without him.
Cain catches my eye, and answers the question I'm too prideful to ask. "He's in the city today. Some business with his father. But I'll let him know you care."
I bristle. "I didn't say anything."
"Right. I suppose you always stare at me with puppy dog eyes, then."
I shoot him the finger before taking my seat, telling myself I'm relieved. Too bad I'm a terrible liar.
I grab a sandwich at the cafeteria and head out of doors, because for the first time in a while, it's actually sunny.
I'm not surprised to see a few students gathered in the courtyard—I don't get the place to myself unless the weather's terrible. As I approach the row of benches, I frown, realizing they're all converging around the first bench, where Jason gave me a foot rub yesterday.
It's an odd mix of students. Judith andManon Montgomery don't typically hang out with gangly teens like Peter March and Albert Franklin.
"We should call someone," Albert says. "A teacher or something."
"Already done," Manon replies imperiously. The ebony beauty actually acknowledged the geek's existence.
I can't help it. I get close and on tiptoe to get a view of what they're all looking at.
Then, I scream.
