I turn back to Harlon. “I’m not an actual princess. You know that, right? You can’t lock me away and demand I behave like a good girl. I have wants and dreams.”
The deeply etched ditches across his forehead multiply.
“Speaking of dreams, if you would get involved with the family business a bit more you might find some direction for your life and I wouldn’t have to worry so fucking much. Every time you step outside this building, I age a year for every hour you’re gone.”
Santi takes one seat and Cassius moves my bag aside and drops his substantial weight into the other. “He’s a fucking miserable dickhead when he’s worried, babe. You need to lay off the gas pedal some so he can breathe. Fuck so we can all breathe.
Cassius nor Santi are my blood brothers but they might as well be with how protective they are over me. I love them, but like with Harlon, I want to murder all three of them at times.
“Newsflash.” I snap my fingers to make sure they pay attention to this next part. “My life isn’t about you, you, or you. Nor all your cooked-up worries. It’s about me. And only me. You take care of the business because you want to. Me? I’m fine without the baggage our father has saddled our name with.”
Harlon slaps a hand down on the desk. “We’ve had this talk a million times. Enough!”
I raise my voice to match his. “I guess we’ll have to do it another million times before you get it through your head. My birth certificate might say Constantine but I refuse to let it hold me back in the dark underworld of Chicago you so desperately cling to. Ever since Cassandra died, it’s like you did too. Don’t drag me down with you.”
Tears sting my eyes and my heart sinks at the hurt clawing across Harlon’s tight expression. I turn to Santi and Cassius. Their eyes are downcast and the tight, white line of their lips tells me I went too far.
“I’m sorry for that. Fuck! It was unfair. Please hear me. All of you. I have direction. I want to be an artist. I want to live in the light and let color into my life. Not cling to the shadows and let my life be leached of color.”
Harlon’s eyes narrow into fine slits. “Artists starve.”
“Look at me like that all you want, but not this artist. By the time I am your age, brother, I will have my paintings in homes from the elite of Hollywood to the presidents of countries and everyone in between. Thanks for believing in me.”
I grab my bag.
“Let me help you get your artwork into shows. All I have to do is make a few calls.”
Halfway to the door I stop and pivot Santi’s direction. His Spanish accent drips over his words. It’s one of the things I love to hear most when I have a particularly bad day. He’s an amazing singer and right now I can hear he genuinely wants to help.
“Thanks, but no. I will do this on my own. I can’t have my big brothers opening doors for me that I didn’t earn. I don’t work like that. I walk around the desk and kiss my brother on the cheek.
His shoulders are pinned back and his hands are shoved into his pockets. Typical big brother when he doesn’t get his way.
“Now call off your dogs. I would hate for any more of your men to get in trouble because they can’t keep up with me.”
He’s running his hand through my fake hair. “Tell me, where did you go when you ditched your security detail?”
Nice try. All three stare at me. Alone they are powerful. Together, they are unstoppable. But they have nothing on a determined woman trying to forge her path.
I shove steel beams into my resolve and point to my wig. “I went to a costume party. Hey, by the way, have you seen Sapphire?”
“She’s on the dark floor,” Cassius answers me when all Harlon does is stare at me unmoving.
I move toward the office door.
“Maybe you could be an undertaker. Sapphire seems to have taken a good liking to it.”
“Not happening, Harlon.” My brother is oblivious to how much Sapphire hates her new job.
“I have a job already so stop trying to saddle me with what I don’t want.” And an even better one if tonight goes off well.
“Belle,” he draws out when I don’t fall in line like a good soldier.
If I want to make it out of here without him tossing me in my suite and locking the door, I better heed the warning in his tone. With my hand on the handle, my gaze swings to his.
“Don’t go against my word. Your new detail will be waiting for you downstairs. I advise you not to try and shake them off again.”
His eyes have turned darker than usual. Santi and Cassius flank him looking just as grim. My God, how does Polaris stand working with them all day?