Secrets (BxB) ✅

1: duty calls

A/N: this is it peeps...the moment you've all been waiting for... hehe get excited! 🎉

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Zedd

I looked around the venue. Crisp business suits, slick cocktail dresses, sparkling jewelry, the flash of pink beverages and the delicate chime of glasses. I was used to these events. They were a part of my father's world. And thus mine. I remember the very first time he ever brought me to one. I was so excited. So proud. Now I just wanted to get the hell away from here.

I shifted uncomfortably in my suit, wishing I could take off my jacket. I had grown a lot lately and it was too tight around my shoulders. I caught my father's disapproving glance at my obvious boredom and stilled my restlessness. I schooled my face blank, something I did the majority of the time anyway, and pretended to listen to my father's discussion of shares with some of his colleagues.

You see, my father is Richard Menz. At this point everything probably starts making sense to you. Because everyone in town, probably even the state, knows the name Richard Menz. Well, it could have clicked sooner, considering my last name is Menz and it's not that common a name. My father's family is Spanish. I don't know my father's parents though, they passed away when I was little and my father and I don't talk much, except if it's business related.

If you don't know who Richard Menz is...well...he is a very rich business man. I guess this is a weird description to give, since he is my father. But that's all he ever seems to be. Working, working and working. I don't complain. I stopped complaining a long time ago. Now I'm happiest when he is away on business trips. Usually he has one every week, and I have a few days breather, a few days of freedom. But enough about that. I don't like to talk about my feelings. Correction, I don't like to feel.

We were currently at a gala hosted by one of my father's business partners, Frederick Berg. He hosted it in his huge opulent villa, complete with crystal chandeliers and a grand staircase. Mr Berg didn't know the meaning of frugality. But honestly, he was rich enough to never have to worry about saving money anyway. My father could have a villa like this. This could have been my home. But no, my father prefers to spend his money on overseas houses and villas, while our real home isn't much. Okay, fine, it is much. Two storeys, limestone and marble, modern and filled with appliances, a swimming pool at the back. I have one of the biggest houses around our suburb, which is why I often host parties when my father's away. But compared to Mr Berg's villa, compared to the men in suits ambling around me, compared to my father's penthouses all across the world, my mother and I (and my father when he was home) lived quite modestly.

I clenched and unclenched my jaw as I tried to refrain myself from fidgeting. Soon my father will dismiss me and I will be able to get a drink. But for now he needs me to stand next to him as his poster son, his junior, his heir, his legacy. I didn't have any say in the matter. My gaze wandered over the broad suited shoulders of the men and searched the crowd for my saviour. I allowed myself a small sigh of relief as I spotted her. Julie, in a fitted red cocktail suit that echoed her scarlet slash of lipstick and emphasised her ample curves. She tossed her long blond curls as she tottered her way towards me on her six inch black heels, a cocktail glass in each hand. She caught my desperate gaze and smirked in understanding.

"There you are Zedd, you look like you need one," she passed me a glass.

It was a pretty violet colour; I didn't know what it was. I drank a gulp. It burned my throat but left a sweet aftertaste. I needed the liquor. And my father couldn't care less that I was underage. For him, proving that I could hold my liquor was a sign that I was a man.