FATE SEALED IN INK

Episode 2

Roderick’s POV

“Mr. Faye, your father is here to see you,” my secretary Ashley says, and I let out a sigh. Dealing with my father in the office is one thing I never look forward to.

“Let him in,” I reply, adjusting my tie. I stand up to welcome him in, my body freezing as my brother trails in behind him with a smirk on his face.

Narrowing my eyes, I extend my arm to shake my father’s and point at the chairs across the table. Reaching for the file on the biweekly progress of the company, my father shakes his head to stop me.

“That’s not what we’re here for son,” he says, and I glance between him and Trevon suspiciously.

“What’s this about?” I ask and Trevon’s smirk widens.

“What do you remember about the terms this company was handed over to you?”

“What do you mean? You gave me the company on my birthday because I was worthy of it,” I reply and Trevon laughs. I glance at the pen beside me and an image of him bleeding through his neck while clutching the pen and gasping for breath crosses my mind.

I need a drink.

“What’s going on dad,” I ask impatiently.

“This company was given to you on the condition that you were going to be fully settled by the sixth year. Looking at you now, you don’t seem even close to being in a stable relationship,” he replies, and I scoff.

“When did this become a thing?” I ask incredulously.

“You were too hung up on the fact that the company was given to you that you didn’t bother to know what the terms were. You’re supposed to be the smart one Rick,” Trevon said cockily, and that image flashed in my mind again.

“So what you’re trying to say is that if I don’t get a wife the company will be taken from me?” he nods. “Who the hell are you going to give it to,” I yell and scoff in disbelief when he turns to Trevon.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I say with a laugh. “You’re willing to give everything we’ve worked for all these years to a man with as many addictions as you can count.”

“You watch your mouth brother,” Trevon yells and shoots up from his chair.

“You want to beat me up?” I challenge and my father clears his throat, putting us both in silence.

“Sit,” he commands, and we reluctantly take our seats.

“Trust me, giving this company to your brother is the last thing I want to do. But you’re my son and I want what’s best for you,” he starts before I interrupt.

“And you think a wife is what’s best for me?”

“Your mother is the best thing that has ever happened to me and this company. Your lack of commitment to something as simple as a woman speaks volumes when it comes to managing a company as this,” he replies, and I clench my fists.

Settling down is something that has never crossed my mind. Living as a successful businessman without any sort of commitment is living the dream. A wife is only going to be a vulnerability, a weakness. I clench my fists.

“So, what happens if I don’t get married. You give the company to Trevon and then what?” I ask, unable to look at him.

“He would have his own conditions. If he isn’t able to keep things afloat for the first three months I take it away from him. sell it and use the money to fund an orphanage,” he replies, and Trevon and I look at him as if he has grown extra heads.

“No way you’re serious,” Trevon says at the same time I say, “Fund an orphanage?”

“What?” my father asks completely unfazed. “It's my company that I founded completely from scratch. If my two grown sons aren’t capable of continuing that legacy what’s stopping me from doing what I wish with it?” he asks, and I sigh.

“Fine. How long do I have?” I ask.

“Till the end of the year. We should be celebrating your wedding before Christmas,” he says as he stands.

I glance at Trevon and can see he’s thinking the same thing I am. We both don’t do commitment, so finding a woman who’s willing to get married to me in the next five months is going to be a hard task. On his own end, this company isn’t even going to last a month under his control. Trevon has always been reckless with the little things. Who knows what’s going to happen with an entire company in his hands.

Over my dead body.

*******

My driver pulls up to one of the high-end strip clubs here in Atlanta. Aiden, my college classmate, was having his bachelor’s party and what better way to sign out from being single than having the ass of a stranger on your face and your lap. I know I could use the distraction.

“My man,” I say to him when I get to the table and exchange pleasantries with our other friends.

“You good bro?” Aiden asks as I take a seat with a deep sigh.

“I wish. I need a drink man,” I reply, not even focused on the alternation of lights and half-naked women dancing for different patrons and showing off different ways to dance on poles.

“Knock yourself out bro. The bar is right over there,” he points to the bar, and I smile at him in appreciation.

I make my way to the bar, my irritation growing with each step as the crowd becomes thicker. Sweaty bodies pressing together, people dancing in the most unholy ways, and exposed skin being displayed at every corner. My annoyance increases when I find no one available to take my order. They say patience is a virtue, but it's definitely not one of mine.

"Excuse me," I began, signaling the bartender who had just finished with the person next to me. "I'll have a Vesper martini please. Extra vodka." He looks right through me and ignores me as if I hadn't spoken at all.

Getting more impatient, I decide to take matter into my own hands and yell at the next person that comes close to me to get me my martini.

“What the hell is your problem boy? I've been waiting forever for a martini and none of you idiots can be bothered to do your job properly.” I yelled angrily at him.

Or rather, she.

I was speechless.

The shocked look on her face matched mine. What’s a woman doing tending the bar?

“Excuse me,” she said angrily.

“I need a Vesper martini,” I reply, and she scoffs. “As you can see, sir, the bar is extremely busy right now. And paying attention to these things on my chest, you would see that I am not a man and I deserve to be treated with respect. If you want your drink sir, you'll need to adjust your attitude because dealing with temperamental men is not in my job description,” she said, matching my anger.

She stopped what she was doing and looked at me with pursed lips. Though it is clear she wants me to ask nicely, she certainly has no idea who I am. I narrow my eyes at her and smile.

“Do you know who I am?” I ask in amusement while keeping a straight face which earns me an eye roll.

“If I could get a penny for how many times I’ve heard that in the past hour I would probably be on a plane to the Bahamas right now. I do not care who you are sir, but I am a human being who deserves respect.”

She is bold, I’d give her that.

I release an exasperated sigh before taking deep breaths. I open my eyes to see her with the same expression on her face.

“Can I get a Vesper Martini with extra Vodka young lady?” I say with a light chuckle, watching in amazement as she gets to work.

The grace she uses to make my drink is unlike any I have seen before. The way her lips are pursed in concentration and her hands move makes it seem as though they were made to make martinis just for me. The way her body bounced as she shook the ice… dear Lord.

“Your drink sir,” she said, sliding the glass and a napkin towards me. I caught them with a smirk.

Seems like I’ve found my woman.

I lean forward towards the counter, locking and maintaining eye contact. “Thank you,” I say lowly and her breath hitches in an attempt to remain steady.

“Oh,” I murmur, leaning close to her ear. "For the record, I did pay attention to the things on your chest," I say with a wink. “Until next time princ

ess.”

I am certainly going to have fun with this one.