Page 7 of Good Boy
I could hear the pounding of my heart. As I approached my desk, a menacing growl escaped from deep inside me. Albert Ashbourne was not one to be denied. His requests were never optional— they were demands that had to be met. Nobody dared refuse him. The answer was always yes, regardless of what it would cost.
“What do you need? My body or my soul?” I took my rightful place in my chair and leaned back, resting a finger on my cheek.
The man was a finger snap away from being on his deathbed, but even through the withering skin on his face, he managed to curl the corners of his lips in a smirk.
“Just your body. For now.” He stepped closer. “I’ve heard you’ve been eyeing other law firms.”
“Well, you know, people like to spread lies, Father. Weren’t you the one who taught me not to believe what other people say?”
He nodded, eyes closed as he let my words seep in one ear and out the other. “I did, but I’m not other people.”
Shit.
I swiveled in my chair and faced the large window. My father never opened his mouth to state a fact unless he was sure he could back it one hundred percent. But I was getting more and more frustrated with the Chicago office as time passed. Cole, Kent, and I were in an endless deadlock over who would be the head partner of the Ashbourne & Associates Chicago office. We all waited with anticipation every year and I was tired of the shit show.
“Son, you’re one of the best lawyers at the firm.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“I know what you want, and I’m willing to give it to you.”
“But…?” Because there’s always a but.
He came into view, standing on the side of me as he eyed the skyline. “I’m giving you a fresh case. Multimillionaire guy, young, with a problematic wife. He didn’t have a prenup, and she wants it all.”
“Sounds like a problem for Cole. He likes that tit-for-tat shit in court.”
“True, but Cole isn’t the one fishing for a way out.”
Bastard always got me by the balls.
He turned to face me, his hollow, gray eyes sunken into their sockets. “Win this case, and you’ll have the new Del-Mar office. I’ll allow you to stake your claim, and I’ll throw in a book of wealthy clients whose marriages are on thin ice.”
A pile of rocks sat at the back of my throat as I processed his words. Father never gave out such extravagant propositions before. All of us usually found ourselves in a pile of shit up to our knees, trying to clean up the situation our father talked us into. It almost seemed too good to be true, but what choice did I have? No was never an option.
“Whatever,” I said and folded my arms across my chest.
He silently agreed with me, then placed his drink on the edge of the desk. Without looking at him, I opened my calendar on my phone and was about to start scrolling when he uttered my name.
“Yeah,” I said, irritation coating the single word.
“I fired your assistant. You’ll have a new one tomorrow morning.”
I swiveled in my chair, curious to see his face. Albert Ashbourne never told a lie, but the reasoning behind his decisions showed clear as day on his withered face.
“What’s her name?”
An awkward pause descended upon us, and he turned his chin toward the side.
“Darius Ashbourne.”
* * *
The day passed as if I were standing in a tunnel of thick fog. I was here physically, but mentally, I was trying not to lose my shit. I knew the proposition had been too good to be true. Not only was I saddled with a case I didn't want, but I would have to spend the next few months staring at a face I wanted to punch repeatedly. Darius Ashbourne. The family’s black sheep and biggest fucking mistake. His mother, a troubled whore, died when giving birth to the little asshole.
We thought we'd been off the hook once we’d heard the news, but little did we know, Darius would be a holy terror, raising hell wherever he went. A spitting image of his mother, with no other Ashbourne traits other than his affinity for interjecting the wordfuckinto every sentence and throwing money around like he had an endless supply of it. The taste of bile rose in my throat at the thought of breathing the same air as him. I swallowed it down and picked up my leather satchel from the chair in the corner. If anyone was a pro at dragging our family name through the mud, it was that little shit.
A knock sounded at my door, and it opened. "Ready to face the music?"