Page 6 of The Last Heir
“Stand straight, Fayette, people are watching. Don’t be afraid.”
“Don’t be an accessory to murder. Take me home.”
Not a look or glare. Not a smile or grunt. I pushed my shoulders back, taking slow breaths so I wouldn’t pass out as the door opened and we headed inside. Two men in fancy uniforms stood guard. I would have assumed they were servants or butlers if not for the unwelcoming expressions on their face. Killers. Yes. They could take care of business if they had to.
“Master Carmelo is waiting in the study.”
Master? All Thomas did was nod at one as his hands settled on my back. He led me to the right over marble floors and passed fancy statues. What the outside lacked, the inside made up for with glistening gold and glass. Paintings bigger than my beater car were hanging on the walls, and the two-story drapes had to have cost more than my entire wardrobe.
“Remember…shark.”
Pressure nudged into my back, practically pushing me through the entrance. Bookshelves covered the sides of the room and sofas with matching chairs sat on each side. The middle was empty, minus a very old man perched at a small desk. Stacks of paper and files surrounded him. He was paler than I believed he should have been, and thin as he peered up at me from behind his glasses. White hair was short above what I assumed was once deeply tanned skin. My first impression was a sigh of relief. I quickly realized my mistake.
“Do you know who I am?”
At Thomas’s throat clearing, my head quickly shook.
“Unbelievable.” He looked at the man who loomed behind me. “Are you sure you got the right, girl? This can’t be her. This mess? This is my payment?”
I did straighten then. “You’re what?”
“Come closer.”
“I will not.”
Thomas’ hand was like a bulldozer. Inches, then feet, passed before I could so much as ground myself down.
“There we go. Better. Eh, she could use some work. There might be potential under those dark bags and swollen eyes.”
My head shook as anger blossomed inside, but the fear was still winning. “What’s this about? You said payment. What are you talking about, Mr…?”
“It’s Master Carmelo to you.” His face turned hard as he stood from the desk. For a moment, my heart sunk to the pit of my stomach. The man was tall. He was thin, but wide. He may have appeared feeble, but he was anything but. “Your father was a dear friend of mine. Best friend since youth, if I wanted to give him the credit, which I don’t. The last time I saw you you were five. Dirt and bugs, then. Apparently, you’re not any more of a lady, now.”
“Lady? I’m sorry I couldn’t dress up, but I’ve been living out of a hospital for the last week. I feel like maybe you already know that.” I tried to hide how my voice was shaking. “You’re not looking so good yourself, you know.”
His eyes flashed to Thomas but came back to me. “I’m aware of my looks. I’m going to ask you again. Do you know who I am?”
“I have no idea. Can we please hurry? My mother is not doing so well, and she needs me. I want to leave. What payment are you referring to, Master Carmelo?”
The man reached down, grabbing a stack of papers before sitting on the edge of the desk. “I was sorry to hear about George’s death. It was very untimely, yet convenient. As for your mother, she’s already dead. You just haven’t unhooked the machine. You were best leaving her when you did. You said your goodbyes not two hours ago. That’s good enough for me.”
“What the hell—Convenient?” Tears nearly blinded me as all fear vanished and was replaced by rage. “Convenient.”
“Don’t be dramatic, Fayette. Let’s cut to the chase. Your father recently acquired some money from me. Again. It seems the banks wouldn’t loan him any, and he was out of options. Again. He mentioned you needed a place to live. Your fiancé left you, swindled not only you but your employer, and you stayed quiet about it to him until you couldn’t. How long were you living in your car before your father figured it out, three weeks? Are you still living in that sorry excuse for a vehicle?”
Somehow, I found myself stepping closer. Had my father known about my living situation?
“Screw you. How much? I don’t have a lot, but I’ll do what I can to pay you back.”
Green eyes cut up, glaring at me over the rims of his glasses. When his head lifted, I almost couldn’t breathe.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Your father knew he couldn’t repay me, and so did I. That’s why you’re here. You’re the payment, Fayette—collateral. Barely a week ago he made you mine. Any other day, I would have laughed this off and dismissed our lousy agreement. I can almost bet that’s what George expected me to do. Thing is, I do need you. Or more, I need something you can give me.”
“Me?” My voice cracked despite the anger and fear. He couldn’t be serious. You couldn’t buy people. That’s not how personal loans worked. My hand lifted. “When you say I’m the payment, you mean by employment, right? My dad was your best friend. You just said that. So, you want me to work for you? I’m a business consultant, but you probably know that if you knew my father. I can also work with finances. I can do whatever you want. Before Andrew, I made good money. I was making something of myself. My reputation was flawless, you can check into it.”
“You think I want you anywhere near my money?”
I glared. “Then, what? Cook and clean for you? Fine. I can clean. I’m a horrible cook.”