“You know, RJ, all you had to do was be a Huerta,” Sofia said, puffing on the end of the cigar as she completed lighting it. “But you thought just having the name was your passkey into the business. You never sat with Father, you never talked about cigars with him, and you never wormed your way in enough to understand what the business meant to him. How he built this company with his bare hands, with no education above the sixth grade. You went to college, you drive fast cars, and you sleep with women as if they are disposable enjoyment made just for your pleasure. And now it all comes home to roost, my brother.”
Someone cleared his throat in the room, pulling Sofia from her anger.
“If it’s okay with you, Señorita, we should get these documents signed and I will take my leave.”
Suddenly
