Page 7 of The Family Pet

The blonde spit on me on her way past toward the ground floor, and I flinched as it landed on my cheek, gagging as I wiped the glob away.

Tears streamed down my face as I dragged myself to my feet and started up the stairs toward my apartment once again. The only person I could think of to ask for help also wanted money from me. Uncle Bowie would probably be overjoyed to see me dead just because Ridge hated me so much.

I swallowed hard as I came to the door of my apartment and leaned against it. I would have to eat my dignity and beg. If Uncle Bowie wouldn’t help, maybe I could run. But where? And how could I get there without any money to live? I would have to rely on Uncle Bowie’s goodwill.

True terror gripped me for the first time since my parents had left. I was totally fucked.

3

BOWIE GODFREY

I waved my hand at my assistant in dismissal, irritated that I’d been interrupted when I’d specifically told him not to annoy me. I’d spent the entire day going through my backlog of work, and as good as Omri was at herding me toward what I was supposed to do, he was getting on my nerves today.

“What?” I snapped.

Omri gave me a long look, thin mouth pursed and light blond hair slicked back, except for one stray curl that stuck to his forehead, as though glued down. A stranger would have guessed he was twenty-five at most, but he was nearing his forties and had been my assistant for nineteen years.

He raised his stark blond eyebrows at me. “Did I say anything, sir?”

“You didn’t need to,” I muttered, slamming the thick binder I had in my hands onto my desk. “I have plans for Saint.”

“And what exactly are those plans?” He crossed his arms over his shiny silver shirt. I let him wear what he wanted when we had no visits scheduled from business colleagues, and he always went for something sparkly or skintight, like the white leather pants practically pasted onto his long legs. “He’s the son of your brother, the same one who fucked you over. As rich as you are, Bowie, you can’t get away with murder.”

“Why not? It’s New Gothenburg. There are enough criminals around here to take the blame.” I smirked.

He rolled his eyes and waved one long finger at me. “I’m sure the Kings of Men or Harlots would love that.”

I snorted and stood, stretching my arms up to work out the kinks in my back. I winced and sighed as a surge of pain shot up my spine. I’d been sitting for too long. “Well, I can handle my spoiled nephew, Omri, so you can leave for the day.”

“And your son?” He pointed at the door to my office. “He’s outside, taking up the couch near my desk, waiting for you. He thinks he’s going to be in on the meeting.”

“Ridge can’t handle this.” I shrugged. He was my only child, and he’d moved in with me when he’d turned seventeen and his mother couldn’t handle his rebellious phase. I’d never seen myself as the parental type, but Gracelyn, my wife at the time, had begged for a child. I suspected she only used him as a ploy for attention from her friends and my parents, hoping she would have something that would attach herself to us if things went ass up, which they did. She’d cheated on me, which I’d never cared about, but the moment her infidelity reached public eyes, all bets were off. I’d divorced her faster than the mayor’s office went through scandals.

My parents had been disappointed, insinuating more than once that my brother’s wife wouldn’t have done something like that, as though Naomi was perfect. What would they think now if they were still alive? Their least favorite son was left to pick up the pieces of their name after their eldest and his wife took off with money that wasn’t theirs. No, my parents would’ve still found a way to explain it, favoring Johnny.

Omri cleared his throat. “You can’t keep him waiting out there.”

I squeezed the bridge of my nose, cursing my useless son. “Send him in.”

Omri bowed his head and exited the room, leaving me in a silence I’d always enjoyed. I leaned back in my black office chair and closed my eyes, breathing in the sweet smell of coffee from the candle sitting on one of the bookcase shelves at my left. I rolled my shoulders and rested my interlinked fingers on my abs. I’d begun to fall into a perfect level of peace when the door swung open, slamming against the wall behind it with a loud bang!

And that was my idiot son. Young, stupid, callous, and a complete fuckup. A disappointment. My parents weren’t wrong about him, and I blamed his mother.

I opened my eyes and stared at Ridge as he grabbed the silver doorknob to swing the door closed again. He glanced at me, anger burning in his gaze as he walked toward my desk. He plopped in the chair in front of me and exhaled loudly, like it took too much effort to be here.

“Are you done?” I drawled, irritated. “Because an elephant has more grace than you, Ridge.”

His jaw tensed and he offered me a saccharine smile, the same type I’d taught him to use with clients. “Sorry, Father.”

He had a horrible attitude and that was one of the reasons his mother shoved him at me, hoping I could make a respectful man out of him; although, after all the years he’d spent with her, I wouldn’t have much luck. Gracelyn was many things, but respectful wasn’t one of them, and it wasn’t unexpected for Ridge to be the same. He’d partied his way through undergrad, creating an endless stream of issues for me. I’d reached into my wallet to donate money to the university too many times while trying to make amends for his stupidity. And I’d let it happen. Lecturing him had done nothing. If I’d been my father, I would’ve beaten his ass, adult or not. Maybe that was what I still needed to do.

I rested my elbows on my desk and glanced at the small clock on the corner.

5:57 p.m.

Saint would be here soon.

I pressed my mouth together and clasped my fingers again. “What do you think we should do with your cousin?”