Love Me in the Dark by Mia Asher

Author:Mia Asher [Asher, Mia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General Fiction
Publisher: Mia Asher, LLC
Published: 2017-05-08T16:00:00+00:00

RECLINING MY BACK on the leather chair, I stare at the ceiling while bouncing a baseball against it. In the dark, the thumping sounds are soothing. The place is empty except for the cleaning crew and me. The lines ringing nonstop outside my office have been replaced by Latin music booming from a portable player outside in the hall.

I should get out of here, but my pathetic grandmother has gotten to me, ruining what was shaping up to be a perfect day. The returns were looking good. It felt like we were finally getting a break after a string of bad investments and even worse returns. But then her visit came.

Loretta Fitzpatrick, the matriarch who holds the keys to all the money I desperately need, barged into my office without giving a damn that I was in the middle of a meeting. Larry and a few of the traders could go to hell for all she cared. Cane in hand, pearls worn like artillery, she came into the room ready for battle. Gone were the kind hellos and kisses on cheeks. Her grandson had disappointed her, and she was letting him know of her displeasure.

“William,” she said coldly as way of greeting, giving her head a slight nod and ignoring the rest of the men.

My secretary stood on the threshold of the door, guilt and fear implanted on her features. “Sir, she wouldn’t wait until the meeting was over.”

My grandmother didn’t dignify her with an answer. Instead, she focused all of her attention on me. “Please, dismiss your meeting. I’d like to have a word with you in private,” she paused, her shrewd blue eyes burning holes in me, “unless, of course, you are far too busy for me.”

Sarcasm dripped from her words because she knew that no one, not even me, would dare to deny her anything. Least of all, when she had come all the way from Greenwich for this meeting. Loretta Fitzpatrick was used to ruling an empire with an iron fist, and she led her private life in the same manner. Nothing but perfection would do. My poor grandfather had no choice but to sit back and watch her do his job for him. Consequently, he drank and whored until his death, not that I blamed him one bit.

It could also be said that she expected the same perfection in her children and grandchildren. My adoptive father, an only child from an unhappy marriage, killed himself and his lover in a boating accident. Loretta blamed my adoptive mother for his death, saying that it was her detachment and coldness that had driven him into the arms of another woman. Of course, she didn’t know that her precious son enjoyed hitting his wife and children after polishing off a particularly remarkable bottle of scotch or when in one of his darker moods. The sick motherfucker got a kick out of hearing us cry or seeing technicolor bruises on our skin. And after he’d left Gwyneth and I

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