All characters are at least 18 years old.
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Charles Rochester scrutinized me, bringing back bad memories of childhood. Memories of never being good enough. Memories of always doing the wrong thing. Memories of... loss. And I refused to squirm under his gaze.
"I don't remember giving you a passcode," I said airily as I strode to my desk. While I seated myself, he remained standing. He probably wasn't used to being on the wrong side of a desk and refused to sit in a guest chair.
"I don't need permission to visit my daughter," he said scornfully. "Least of all from that oaf of a butcher you call a doorman." He began slowly pacing the room like a newly caged tiger. Because God forbid he sat in the smaller seat.
"You should at least have some courtesy, though," I remarked. "And I'll have you know that Tony is perfectly capable. Properly vetted, trained, the whole shebang." I leaned back and shook my head derisively. "All I'm saying is you should give a girl a holler before showing up. It's just uncouth, considering you swore you'd never set foot here in this particular establishment. How did you describe it? You said something rather good the last time we spoke."
"A repulsive cesspool of degenerate freaks," Charles supplied.
"There you go, poetry."
"And it has only devolved further since then," he sneered. "The kind of perversity you let in here. It's shameful."
I rolled my eyes. "It's only a hop, skip, and a jump from your own empire. I might have even seen a couple of your elite buddies swing down here once or twice. Or a dozen times, depending on how often the mood hit."
"We at least stay on the right side of the law, Alexandria."
"Easy when your friends are writing the laws," I scoffed. "Don't act like you getting in good with certain clients wasn't to expand your influence. Remember that guy you suicided last year?"
His head snapped to glare at me. Finally, a decent reaction. "That wasn't me," he said stiffly.
"Exactly my point." I leaned forward and weaved my fingers together. "The others, who had too much to lose if the guy talked. They're the ones who gave the order, and you still accept their business. So don't talk to me about lawfulness."
"And isn't that what it's all about with Senator Barnes?" Charles shot back, arching an eyebrow. "Influence?"
"It's a blind eye," I corrected.
He pondered it for a moment, then chuckled. "I thought you more ambitious than that."
"What, you thought I was collecting a cabal of sympathetic politicians to help change the law in favor of my clientele? Why would I do that?" He raised his brows as an indication to continue. "If that happens, and the niche I entertain becomes mainstream, I lose my selling point. I mean, I doubt it'll get that far; what is lawful and what is considered moral are still miles apart. But still, seems like a fruitless gambit."
He stopped pacing to look at me again, and for a second, the disdain in his eyes seemed to waver. My eyes saw a glimmer of respect, but my brain didn't believe it for a second. The only way this fucker respected anybody was in a Machiavellian sort of way, and even then, you never saw it in his face.
Then the second passed, and he spoke. "I didn't come here to debate your clientele or practices."
"Why not? It's been pretty fun so far."
He sighed impatiently, then clasped his hands behind him.
"You're getting married."
I stared at him, waiting for the punchline. When I realized that was it, I began laughing, almost maniacally. He maintained a solemn expression, and it just made me laugh harder. This bitch really thought he could marry me off like we were in the Middle Ages or something.
Wondered if I had a dowry. Wondered how much it was.
I had to hand it to him, he was patient as he waited for me to collect myself. Probably expected that kind of reaction. Eh, I'll entertain him, I thought. I wanted to see how far he was ready to take this. "When?"
"Whenever you and this boy deem appropriate."
"Ah, okay." I nodded with fake amicability. "How about... never? That seems appropriate enough."
"You will not drag this engagement on forever. I was being generous before." That cold look in his eyes. It was making my blood boil. "You will be married by year's end."
"God, this is so weird. Usually it's the mom pushing for her kids to settle down, 'cause she wants grandkids or something. Did mom put you up to this?" He sighed again, and I tittered. "Nah. Mom just does whatever you tell her.
"So help me out here. Can't be for connections, since you already have plenty of those. Unless he's a prince or something. Is he? No, didn't think so. Hm, you have enough money already... What's left? Progeny?" I snapped my fingers in epiphany. "You want some pure blood master race kids."
"Are you finished?" Charles bit out.
"Yeah, I'm stumped. Why don't you tell me his name, at least I'll have some clues to go off of."
His nostrils flared and he ground his teeth, but at least he obliged. "August Nova."
"Sounds like a fighter jet in a video game," I commented. "'Lexi Nova.' Hm, actually sounds pretty cool. Maybe I will marry this guy after all."
"Alexandria--"
