Beautiful Disaster by Natasha Wessex

Author:Natasha Wessex [Wessex, Natasha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-09-19T18:30:00+00:00

It was half an hour later that he arrived at his father’s office and headed for the door, still not slowing. “I need to see him.”

“Mr Sinclair…” his father’s secretary began.

“I need to see him.”

“Mr Sinclair!”

Alex went straight into his father’s office to find the Vice-President on the phone.

“What the hell…” Patrick Sinclair started as his son entered, then quickly recovered himself. “Not you, Jerry,” he said to whoever was on the other end of the phone. “I’ll call you back. Thank you, Mrs. Prior, I forgot that I had an appointment with my son. My fault entirely.”

The secretary at the door, nodded anxiously and ducked back out. She probably knew that she was being lied to, but she had seen much worse in her time; being lied to was part of the job.

The door closed, leaving father and son alone, facing each other across the room. On another day, Patrick might have ordered his son out, or even had him removed, but he had seen the look of grim determination on Alex’s face and the defiance in his stance.

Patrick could easily guess what this was about.

“Something I can do for you, my boy?”

“I heard your speech.”

“Something about it seems to have upset you.” Patrick got up from behind his heavy oaken desk. “Which strikes me as odd. I know we don’t agree on everything, and that issue in particular – your stance on that has always disappointed me. But it’s nothing new. I’ve been making that speech or ones like it for years now and they’ve never before had you barging unannounced into my office. I’d prefer it if you didn’t do that, by the way. Perhaps I’ve been making them a bit more often now, as those people are wheedling their disgusting, insidious way into every aspect of normal life, which I do not think any decent American should tolerate. Is that why you’ve come storming in here? You think I’ve made one speech too many? Is that it, Alex?”

“You know damn well why I’m here.”

Patrick Sinclair shrugged and perched on the corner of his desk. “I think I know why you’ll say you’re here. But if I’m right then it’s just a load of crap and you can leave now. And take your pathetic, whiny indignation with you.”

So great was the effect that his father had upon him, that Alex felt his legs starting to move in automatic obedience of the stern, paternal voice, but he checked himself and stood his ground. “You’re a hypocrite.”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees as Alex said the words and saw his father’s eyes narrow.

“I’ve been called many things, Alex.” Patrick’s voice was level and controlled but somehow all the more menacing for it. “But never that. My worst enemy couldn’t say that of me. This city is filled with people who disagree with me - people who hate me, even – but you ask any of them what they think of me, and after they’re

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