Page 94 of Modern Romance January 2025 5-8
“Don’t say I never gave you anything.”
“Perhaps I cannot say that. But you took something from me. And I will never forgive it.”
“If you are still upset about your sister, you must understand. There are people who are disposable. They will not amount to anything. Your sister might have lived ten more years, but the path she was on, she would’ve died young. On that you can trust me. Absolutely.”
“You can say that about your own daughter?”
“I do not have a daughter.”
Rage poured through Matias’s veins. “I would never steal from you. Because you have nothing I value. Let us make that one thing exceptionally clear.” It cost him then, not to make threats. Not to tell him exactly what he wanted to do to him. How what he really wanted was to wrap his hands around his father’s neck and squeeze tight until the life left his eyes. No. Because he would be recording the conversation. Of course he would. He would want evidence that Matias was every bit as dark and damaged as he was accusing him of being. It was true.
“My life is going well,” he said. “I’m on the cusp of a personal triumph. You can try to spread lies about me, but they will not prevail. How could they? I am well-liked, well-regarded, and more famous than you will ever be.”
“You also behave as if you don’t have a brain in your head. And people truly do love to uncover the sins of nepo babies these days, don’t they? That is what they call it. What was once a legacy is now seen as an unfair advantage. And if they thought you steal directly from your father...”
“I think you’ll find there are more interesting stories for them to read about this week.” He paused for a moment. “I only want one thing from you, really, Father.”
“And what is that?”
“When you get to hell, give me a call and let me know how hot it is.”
Matias hung up the phone, not entirely satisfied with his discretion, but at least it hadn’t been a literal threat. He considered that something of a triumph.
When he made his way back out into the living area, the flurry of activity was gone. It seemed as if they had all melted away now that their jobs were complete.
He stood there for a moment and looked around the ornate space. It was not to his taste at all. It was overly luxurious, overstuffed, over comfortable. It was made to be a haven for someone else. Someone who didn’t exist.
He heard a door open, and he turned.
And there she was.
She was extraordinary.
Her glossy brown hair fell past her shoulders in sleek waves, a deep side part held fixed into place by a sparkling diamond flower. She was reminiscent of a Hollywood actress from the golden age. Her dress was strapless, her shoulders bare. The color a sort of electric orange that he would not have thought would be fetching on anyone, but was astonishing on her. Her matching lipstick and nail polish added to the effect. But it was the massive diamond ring on her left finger that truly drew the eye.
That was the point of all this. Not the way the dress shaped lovingly to a body that was curvier than he had realized, not the way her legs looked, elongated by the brightly colored pumps that she wore. No. The ring was the star of the show, and he could see it from across the room. A stunning display. That would call attention to itself instantly.
“Perfection,” he said.
Her face shimmered, and while he was certain it had to be makeup, it seemed to come from deeper as well.
“And you say that I’m the Scarlet Pimpernel,” he said.
It was like he had forgotten that anyone else was standing there.
“What does that mean?” she asked.
“Surely you must know what it means.”
“I wouldn’t have asked you if I knew,” she said.
“Come,” he said. “We will go downstairs and get in the car.”
“Thank you,” she said, turning around and facing the team. He did not bother to issue a thanks. They were well compensated.
“What happened to your famously good-natured demeanor?” She asked that question as soon as they were in the elevator. He could hardly recall having a good-natured demeanor.
“I just had a phone call with my father.”