The Price of a Promise, page 13
Damian nodded, finally backing down. He walked slowly around the living room, arms crossed tightly.
“We will change the world,” he promised.
”As long as we’re clear headed. Focused. And we can stay out of the spotlight,” Trace added.
“All publicity is good publicity,” I said. “We’re bound to make it to the tabloids once we’re rich enough. It’s just a matter of time.”
“Fine. Limited spotlight then,” Trace conceded. “At least minimize the spotlight for non-business endeavors.”
“That’s a good distinction,” Damian pointed out. “Because the algorithm I cooked up is going to turn some heads. We’re not going to be able to fly under the radar, so our noses need to be clean.” When Damian talked that way about what he cooked up while coding, I believed him. The man was a genius. He could hack into any computer and had even gotten into Pentagon files once for fun in undergrad. The algorithm he’d created would become the basis of our wealth management approach.
In other words, it was what would make us become le crème de la crème of finance.
“I’m fine with that.” I squeezed my knees, every inch of me crawling with desire to get this show on the road. Every step closer to success equaled more distance between me and the memory of Cora. My goal was to eradicate her completely from my waking thoughts. At this rate, it might take a decade to get there. “I’ll keep my one-night stands to a dull roar. And we don’t even have to worry about you two in that department.” I smirked.
“Oh, no?” Trace lifted a brow. “You act like our dicks have fallen off.”
“Because they have.” I reached out to punch Trace in the crotch, but he caught my fist. We had a brief battle of strength before I ceded.
“We get what we need,” Damian said.
“Which is what, a pocket pussy?” I teased.
Damian’s lips thinned. “Just because I don’t flaunt my cock like you do these days doesn’t mean I don’t have any fun.”
“Dude, if I don’t flaunt my cock, I’ll go crazy,” I told him earnestly. Sadness gripped me again, a painful chokehold. “I need my coping mechanism.”
“Let him have it,” Trace chided Damian. “At least it isn’t drugs or alcohol.”
on occasion,” I clarified. Truth was, I’d been downing way more beer and whiskey than ever before. But some nights, it was the only way I could make thoughts of Cora stop. Sex turned my brain off for nights when the memories were the loudest. Alcohol numbed the pain when I felt like I’d drown in how much I still loved her.
And deep down inside, I wasn't sure this feeling would ever truly go away. I knew time healed all wounds, but this was a nasty gash that had cut into a place that might not ever recover.
“Point is, I’m ready to go all in on this. Now. Because the alternative isn’t pretty. I’m sick of being cash strapped and waiting for dividends to hit the bank account. I’m done paying for Chinese food with crypto because our assets are tied up until whatever random future date. I want us to have a fucking penthouse with a view and so much cash that we’re donating to charities weekly. Nobody will be afraid to invest with us, because Fairchild Enterprises will become the name for wealth. That’s a fucking promise.”
“God, I love it when you get on these tangents,” Trace said with a grin.
“And with this algorithm, we’re going to do right by Jordan and Kaylee. I wasn’t kidding when I said these rich assholes won’t know what hit ’em. We’ll be pumping their own money back into the communities that need the most support.”
“Wouldn’t it be fun to personally investigate each client, figure out their pain point, and put the money there?” Damian said, an evil sparkle lighting up his eyes.
“Oh, I like when you get devilish,” I said.
“Food for thought,” Damian said with a shrug. “If we’ve got the manpower, we could figure out where we feed their extra-vestments.” Extra-vestments was our inside term. It meant the skimmed percentages we planned to take, not as our service fee, but as our charity fee, built into the investment schema so that our clients had no idea they were silently feeding money into social services and charities.
It was a moral gray area and one we were pleased to enter. After all, Trace would invest the money so well that our clients would have no room to complain. They’d be missing nothing. And we’d be taking what looked like a service charge.
Win-win.
“You know I’m down for that,” I said. “And I’d be ecstatic if we could get Allan Margulis as a client down the road and send an even larger portion of his profits straight to the Kentucky foster care system.”
Damian snickered. “Yeah. Good luck snagging him.”
“I’m serious,” I said.
“I know you are,” Trace replied, sending me a stern look. “But we’re not scouting Dickhead Dad, okay? He’s not our target.”
I cleared my throat to prevent myself from answering how I really wanted.
Allan Margulis was my target. How could he not be?
He’d pissed on me from day one. Overlooked me in every way possible. Talked down to me to my face. Kept his daughter from seeing me. And no doubt a whole list of even worse things that I didn’t know about. Yet.
Because I would know about them.
No, Allan Margulis wasn’t just a target, he and his whole slimy empire were the target.
I wasn’t content letting him steamroll me into oblivion. Allan Margulis had nasty practices, and I wouldn’t allow them to dictate my future. In fact, it was precisely because he wanted to declare himself master of my destiny that my motivation had sharpened into a dagger.
I’d promised him I’d get my business up and running to prove myself and provide for his daughter.
Now that promise had become a threat. He needed to hope like hell I wouldn’t make good on my word. Because once my business catapulted into the stratosphere, I’d be coming for him.
For all of them.
I didn’t know how, but I’d make sure I got what I wanted out of the Margulis family.
Revenge.
THE END
Axel and Cora’s story is FAR from over! Find out what happens eight years down the road in The Price of Revenge, the first full-length novel of the series.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This book would not have been possible without the gracious flexibility of my husband Jorge and our beautiful boys, who now find it a familiar sight when I bust out my computer on road trips and/or during dinner.
Special thanks to my amazing beta squad, who always find time to give me their thoughts, feedback, and ideas for improving my work. Special shout-out to Rebecca Hamilton, whose incredible methods helped shape this entire series.
There are so many people and influences behind the scenes, for which I am constantly grateful. And most importantly, thank you to everyone who has supported me throughout the years by sharing, purchasing, or reading my work. It means more to me than I could possibly express.
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ALSO BY EMBER LEIGH
THE BAD BOYS OF WALL STREET
The Price of Revenge
The Price of Passion
The Price of Infamy
The Price of Forever
WINTER HARBOR
(co-written with Whitley Cox)
The Bastard Heir
The Asshole Heir
The Rebel Heir
The Matchmaking Heirs
THE BREAKING SERIES
Breaking the Rules
Changing the Game
Breaking the Sinner
Breaking the Habit
Breaking the Fall
THE BAYSHORE SERIES
Make Me Lose
Make Me Fall
Make Me Yours
Make Me Choose
Make Me Hot
Make Me Smile
Ember Leigh, The Price of a Promise
