Page 95 of Play Dirty

“I had to keep them away from you. All of them. Your… your entire future was at stake, Jordan. You knew that as well as I did. That’s why you blamed Ixion.”

At the mention of Ix’s name I freeze. I lose time. I… I don’t know what happens to me, other than that sick feeling in my gut turns into something even more revolting.

“You,” I say, looking up at my father and meeting his gaze.

“I did what I had to. Just like you did.”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “No…”

“I need you to take over the firm, Jordan. Do you think that my partners will continue my legacy? Do you think I built this empire just to let it fade with my death? No,” he says. “No. You were born for a reason, son. And now it’s time to take your place.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“He was going to turn you in. You would’ve been kicked out of law school. Banned from practicing even before you got your degree. What you did was a felony, Jordan. That’s why you blamed him in the first place. You knew he’d be confused and take the fall. Because you two were tight. You practically groomed him from childhood to be your fall guy. And I know you think you loved him, hell, maybe you think he loved you back. I don’t know. But this was not a forever kind of deal. This was a heat-of-the-moment deal. You knew he would sell you out. The minute he got word that his father disowned him and wrote him out of the will, he would’ve sold. You. Out.”

“No,” I whisper, shaking my head. “No. Never.”

I don’t even feel the need to fight about it.

It just is.

Never would Ixion ever do to me what I did to him.

So I turn, and walk away, and don’t look back.

Because my father isn’t worth the breath it would take to explain how I know that.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I don’t know how I feel about this… this… strange multi-generational story that I have unwittingly become a part of. The circle of deceit, and lust, and game-playing rocks me back on my heels and begs for a solution.

But what kind of solution?

The most disturbing thing of this whole day might be that I can’t think straight. Can’t make sense of any of it.

I am the one who always has the answer. I am the game master. I am the one who controls all the pieces on the chessboard. I am the one who determines the winners and losers.

And now I find out all these years I’ve been nothing but a player in his sick game.

I don’t even know what that game is. I don’t want to know what that game is.

I just want out.

My phone rings and when I look at the screen it’s Alexander.

I don’t answer it, not because I don’t want to. I do. I want to tell them everything. I want to tell everyone everything.

But I’m driving and… I just don’t know how to start that conversation. Because I don’t even know what I’m into.

I have no fucking clue.

So I drive over to their house, park on the crowded street a few blocks down, and walk to their building by way of the park, texting him back to let him know I’m on my way.

When I get up to their floor, the double doors to the penthouse are already open. Augustine is standing there, backlit by the setting sun, frowning.

“Fuck,” I say, running my hands through my hair.

“Where have you been? We’ve been looking for you for two days!”