Hell [Book 2] | ✓

[15.] Now You Need To Think Of The Business

L E O N V A R G AS

;~;

I was spreading butter on my toast when my father came downstairs, in a black suit with a white shirt and a red tie. He even had his Italian shoes on. I studied the suit—Armani. It was one of his best and formal suits.

Something was up.

"Morning Dad," I greet, handing him the toast.

"Morning, and thank you," He smiles.

I sigh as I put more bread in the toaster, and lean against the counter as I wait. My father made some coffee for himself, and sat in front of the island table so that he was looking at me.

"I was planning on coming to the office today, if that's no trouble?" Dad asks.

And there's the trouble.

My father was extremely hard to please, so to say I was nervous about him coming to work with me would be an understatement. He would find something—anything wrong with what I was doing and he'll fix it. If he's in a bad mood I may have to watch him fire somebody. Yes, he was that bad.

"Splendid," I reply, a fake smile on my face.

-

"You worry too much," Francesca told me earlier, after I gave her the news.

She was probably just saying that because today was her day off and lucky her, my father would be with me. She fixed my tie, smiling proudly at it, before cupping my cheeks.

"I don't, Fran you know how he is," I whine, and she laughs.

"It's okay. You just have to hope that everything will go your way," Francesca assures me.

Not even after ten minutes of being there, he criticised me. It wasn't a big thing, but it also wasn't something that he had to comment on.

"The layout is untidy. Your secretary is just in the middle of everything, it looks like you just ran out of space. I don't know why you changed it," Dad says, gesturing his hands all over.

I rub my temples, and let him rant, but I wasn't only listening with one ear. I would nod, and just apologise, but I wouldn't really give a damn about what he was actually saying. It made no difference to me, I wasn't going to change it.

"Father, please stop. This is my office now," I eventually said fed up.

"I know more than you," Dad says sternly, narrowing his gaze.

"Well I've been running this bloody place for three years, I think I know if my layout needs to be changed," I hiss, and he looks taken aback. I murmur an apology, it was an instinct.

When we were younger, Ludmila and I would argue with our parents. Usually our mother, and occasionally with our father. But when they gave us this certain look, we would cower and mutter apologies and retreat back to our bedrooms where they were bound to send us five seconds later.

"I've organised a meeting," Dad says, turning to look out the window, like he was avoiding my gaze.

And he had a good reason to.

"How can you organise a meeting? Father, I've told you countless times before, this is my company. You left it in my hands. You taught me how to run it. I come here every sing,e day and do the work. So I will decide what meetings I want to engage into," I say slamming my fist on the table.

"I am older than you Leon," my father argues, his voice dangerously still.

"You cannot run my life anymore," I protest, and he shakes his head.

"I don't know when you got so argumentative, but I am still your parent. Your father. This is still very much my company, and I think I know what I'm doing me probably more than you do. You are not more experienced than me, you've been here for three years. This meeting has been set for ten minutes, and whether you like it or not you will sit through it," My father orders.

"Who is it with?" I ask him, sitting on my chair in defeat. I could see a small smirk playing on his thin lips. I refrained from glaring at him.

"Antonio Lopez, and his daughter." He pauses, so I can take his first five words in.

I wince, hoping the next word out of his mouth isn't what I think. It can't be, I thought I had made it clear three years ago that I wanted nothing to do with that family. Nothing.

"Gery,"

Of course he didn't listen.

I lick my dry lips, trying to contain my anger by gripping the table. My knuckles turned white, but I simply gripped harder. I breathed heavily, as my father let me take it all in. I look up at him slowly, a menacing look in my eye.

"How could you?" I ask him, venom in my voice.

He looked unoffended. He never was. My father may get angry, but it was simply because you were standing up to him, threatening his power that he liked to hold, but he didn't get necessarily offended. He had too much pride to get offended. Nothing could hit him in the heart.

Even when I told him I hated him, he simply said it my hormones, and that I would come around.

I guess now was the time that I should've come around. He had told me that I would have to think about the business, and the future of it. I couldn't be selfish. Every businessman had to put their business first.

Even if it meant for him to put the business before his own son's happiness.

"You know that this could grow the business—"

"I don't give a bloody fuck about the growth of this business," I seethe, and he raises his eyebrow at my language. He let it pass, but I could see how stiff he was.

"Well I do." He answered merely.

"I care about Francesca," I whisper, and he smiles, but it lacked sincerity.

"That's nice son. But now you need to think of the business,"

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Hi! So something I never mentioned, is that this also shows how dark and sometimes uncaring Leon's father can be.

Most of you will not like the characters' actions in this book, but it has to be played out like this in order to build the characters in heaven.

Thanks for reading 🙈 sorry for any errors 💚

~Lexy 😈