Beg Me

“It’s embarrassing to speak of,” he says, showing off his gold tooth. “But I need to know why you are hanging around that Rocco Morelli character. You must understand he’s our competition.”

“Everyone in this sector is competition.”

I sigh. Great. Now I have to defend myself and my actions. How the hell did he find out about us?

I continue. “Rocco’s company doesn’t make what we make. We are Detroit. Everyone equates us with the city’s boom. As for him, he’s just another guy who wishes he could be at our level, but never will be.”

It’s the best lie I can come up with, and I hope it sticks.

“Yes, but that’s the point. Isn’t it?” he asks. “He wishes he could be at our level. Sometimes, all it takes is a wish. Correct?”

“I suppose,” I say.

The look in his eye turns less jovial by the second. There’s a fire inside of him that’s stirring. Fear rushes through my chest.

“Are you making a deal behind my back, dear?” he asks.

“No.” I tremble. “I have no interest in making any deals. You know that.”

“Good,” he says, leaning back in his chair. He puts his feet on his desk and lights a cigar. “Because you’re not allowed to do that.”

“Excuse me? I have about the same rights as you, Byron,” I remind him.

His gold tooth gleams. “Not entirely. We decided at our last board meeting that the powers of the company will now be directed to me.”

“Why wasn’t I informed about the board meeting?” I ask. “This is my company too, Byron. My father made sure I’d hold a big stake.”

He takes another puff of cigar. “I think you may have been out to dinner with that Morelli boy when it happened. Yes, I believe you were!”

Smoke circles into my nostrils, forcing me to cough.

“You never told me about any meeting. This isn’t fair,” I say.

“You know, if you put in half the effort around here that you give to that man, you might have more control,” he hisses and leans forward. “But you don’t care, do you? All you care about is having fun with our competition.”

“No, it’s not like that. You told me to stay home. You said I needed to grieve. You—” I can’t believe he has the nerve to cut me off.

“The odd thing is, I don’t see you grieving,” he says. “I see you running around town with that man, perusing his establishments, funneling in more money to his company. If I had any balls, I’d oust you right now.”

I try to remain calm, but my vision is shaking. I can feel the tears start to swell against my eyelids. I’m losing this fight, and it’s killing me.

“You can’t do that. I have done nothing wrong,” I say.

“This is why we have our board of trustees, correct? We can settle with them at a later date,” he says, looking comfortable. “I just wanted to bring it to your attention that you’ve been a very nasty girl.”

Those words, nasty girl, put a gross taste in my mouth.

A big shiver rolls through my spine. I jump out of my seat in disgust. I don’t even want to be in this building, let alone near this man.

I head for the door without saying a word, trying my best not to pounce on the guy and claw his buggy eyes out.

He chuckles, satisfied. “Bye-bye, Ms. Napolitano,” he says.

“Fuck off,” I whisper.

“What was that?” he calls out.

I’m already in the hallway, walking toward the elevator. I reach out and press the button for down. I need to get out of this place.