“You can.” I stand, but I don’t follow her. “And I think you will.”
“Screw you, Carmine.” She’s openly shaking now. “I’d rather let my family crumble than become your wife. I’d rather die than be your tool and your little breeding pig.” She says that last word with a disgusted twist.
“That’s exactly what’ll happen if you refuse. Your family will crumble. You’ll die, or you might as well be dead. Can you live with yourself? Can you really let everyone down?”
Her jaw works. God, she’s angry, and she’s so beautiful right now I can feel myself stiffening. I have to take a couple deep breaths to calm down, otherwise I might lose control, and it’s not good when I lose control.
Terrible things happen. Gareth and the others know all about that.
“I’m finished here,” she says, turning to the door. “Tell my grandfather I’m sorry, but I can’t do this.”
“I’ll give you a week, filthy girl. One week to change your mind.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“Calling you what? Filthy girl?” I move closer to her now. “You don’t like being reminded of what you are?”
“You don’t know me, Carmine.”
“I remember you very well. I watched you at Blackwoods. I saw through your pretty facade. You’re like dirt wrapped in lace. Beautiful, but still filthy on the inside.”
“Fuck you.” Her hands come to her mouth. “God, now you’re making me swear.”
“Good. Say every horrible thing you can imagine. Let it out. Call me whatever you want.” I stop a couple of feet from her. “When you’re my wife, there won’t be any more of this prissy holier-than-thou bullshit.”
“I’ll never be your wife.” Her back straightens and she looks over her shoulder. I could die right now and be happy. The look she gives me is pure loathing, and it’s exquisite. “Goodbye, Carmine. I hope I never hear your name again.”
She opens the door and leaves.
“One week,” I call out and sigh as I lean up against the wall, smitten by my future wife.
Chapter4
Brice
The limo parks in the executive spot outside of the Rowe Oil headquarters on the outskirts of Dallas. Grandpa stares at the window in his business attire, his crisp black suit, his perfect white shirt, his blood-red tie. He says nothing for a long moment and I begin to squirm in my seat.
I didn’t know it was bring-your-granddaughter-to-work day at the oil company but apparently Grandpa couldn’t leave me behind. Louisa wakes me up early and I take a fast shower, hurrying to get ready in time to leave. I have to practically run out to the front driveway to get into the limo before they pull out, and Grandpa barely says a word to me on the drive over. I can tell he isn’t happy that I “slept in.”
The sun’s peeking out from behind the buildings and it’s still practically nighttime. We park out front, and employees stream into the building all around us, dozens of them, so many people with all their different lives, all dependent on the company. I can’t believe these people are here so early, but that’s Rowe Oil: it demands a lot of its workforce.
Finally, Grandpa turns to me. “With your father gone, I want you to get a feel for what it’s like to work at Rowe today.”
I blink a few times in surprise and clear my throat. “Uh, Grandpa, I have another job, you know.”
“Yes, I’m aware of yourjob.” I can practically hear the square quotes around that last word. “I’m not hiring you. I’m asking you to understand the precarious position we’re in.”
“What will I be doing?” My stomach is a twisted mess. I worked hard to avoid this exact scenario—coming to work at Rowe Oil like everyone else in my family. I wanted a life and suddenly I feel like all my hard-won independence is crashing down around me.
“I haven’t decided. You’ll shadow me for now. Come along.” Grandpa pushes open the door and steps out.
I hurry to follow. He walks slowly, with a limp, leaning on a simple black cane. I offer him my arm and he takes it with a soft smile, but there’s something sharp behind his eyes.
“Since when did you use that, Grandpa?” I nod at the cane.
He grunts. “Since my arthritis began acting up. I’m sure you’ve forgotten, but I’m eighty years old.”
“I saw you three weeks ago and you weren’t using it then.”