Page 26 of Parker

Chapter twenty

Joel it was a legacy. The night the world of fashion learned her name.

“Morning,” she mumbles sleepily as she snuggles into my chest. “What are our plans today?”

“Whatever my award-winning wife wants to do.” I drop a kiss on her forehead.

She chuckles. “Joel, it wasn’t just me. The entire team made that happen, years of experience at my back for support.”

“Baby, just enjoy the moment. Take the credit. In a few weeks, this will be forgotten. You’ll be drowning in fabric again.” She smiles up at me, soft and satisfied. “Do you fancy going out for a meal? Only us. We’ve both been so busy with work. We’re always surrounded by other people.”

“Like a date?” she says.

“I suppose so.” Her eyes are bright with excitement. “Do you have any requests, or should I book somewhere?”

“Anywhere. As long as I have you all to myself.”

***

Monday morning, and financial documents and paperwork pile up on my desk.

My role as financial director isn’t only limited to the fashion house.

My mother and I oversee the whole Parker empire with the support of our trusted team.

Since my father died, there have been plenty of bumps in the road, but we now have a tight grip on the proceedings.

As to be expected with a family like mine, not everything is legitimate. Some things I’ve learned to swallow whole, moral or not. It’s the price of my last name.

Nicky knows we have other businesses but shows no interest. My wealth isn’t important to her. She loves me and her work, and it’s why I love her implicitly. She always presents you with an authentic version of herself. In my eyes, she’s everything I’ll ever need.

A knock at the door distracts me from the complicated spreadsheet I’m studying.

“Come in.”

“Morning, boss,” Boyd says as he enters. “Got a minute?”

“Sure, Boyd. What’s up?”

He falls into the seat across from me and rubs his hand on his chin.

“Well, it’s obviously not good news you have for me,” I say, and he chuckles.

“If I ever appear with good news, you’ll know it’s not me.”

I shake my head, but keep my lips sealed tight. I know what’s coming out of his mouth before he says it. “There was another incident at Guilty Secrets. The patron ended up with a broken leg.”

“Do I know the poor bastard with the mangled limb?” I mutter.

He swallows audibly, then nods. “Lorenzo Worth.”

“Fuck’s sake, Boyd! He’s been making my life a living hell since I left his sister at the altar. How the hell did he get in?” I snarl, furious. “It won’t be the police that’s our problem. His father will seek revenge in blood. What did he do?”

“Started an argument over a girl. He doesn’t like to share, even though he only paid for an hour.” There must have been more to it than that. I stay silent until he volunteers more information. “The argument escalated, leaving the girl caught in the middle.”

“That doesn’t explain how Lorenzo ended up with his injury.”

Boyd blows out heavily through his nose. “One of our men took it personally.”

“Who?” I snap, then stop myself. I don’t want a name. If I don’t know, then I won’t be forced to act. “Is the girl okay?”

“Yeah, she’s fine. Just a bit shook up,” he says with indifference. To our team, the girls who work the clubs are commodities, not people. I find that hard to stomach. “Do you want to see Drayton? He’s letting security slip. Maybe he needs a sharpen up.”

“Bring him here. Tonight.” I rub the bridge of my nose. “We can’t afford another mistake.”

Without waiting for further instruction, Boyd stands and leaves. He knows what he has to do. We need to tighten the ship before it sinks.

***

Drayton appears as instructed after the Parker Fashion staff has left. Boyd accompanies him into my office, closing the door and flicking the latch.

“What happened?” I growl before he can sit. The older man doesn’t flinch, merely stares back with blank eyes.

“An incident.” His tone is casual, with no hint of remorse that this shit happened under his watch. According to him, it’s always an incident. I’m sure it’s one of the few big words he knows in the English language.

“Incident? The police have been at my bloody office every week for a month. I can only deflect so many goddamn questions before they investigate further.” He shrugs, and my fury builds to my breaking point.

“Play with fire, Parker, you’re going to get burned. That was something your father understood.”

That sends me over the edge. I pick up a glass sitting from my morning orange juice and hurl it across the room. It smashes off the door, missing Boyd’s head by an inch.

“This has fuck all to do with my father. Remember who you’re speaking to.” He sniggers, one calloused hand rising to cover his mouth as if to hide what he wants me to see.

“The monkey,” he goads. “Your mother is the organ grinder. Maybe spend some time in our world, and you’ll understand what we’re dealing with, boy.”

That hits home.

The insult cuts through years of buried doubt. The insecurity I keep hidden dragged out into the light. To men like Drayton, I’m the rich kid who lost control and failed to step into his father’s shoes. The pathetic disappointment. The outsider.

But they’re wrong. I’m no boy, not anymore. I have strength on my side. Power in my hands. And I don’t think twice.

The gun I keep hidden under my desk lies at my fingertips. I pull it from its resting place slowly, placing it on the top. Boyd steps forward from his position at the door. He’s been watching silently as the scenario plays out.

“I may not be my father,” I say, never taking my eyes off the dickhead in my office. “But I have his blood, and I assure you if the need arises, I can be just as ruthless, more so even.”

He laughs out loud. His hands on his knees as he bends over, hysterical. “I’d pay to see that.”

On instinct, I lift the gun and walk round my desk to stand in front of him. My arm lifts so the muzzle of the weapon rests on his forehead. I release the safety. Every man in the room takes a breath, including me.

“I may not be my father,” I repeat. “But I was educated the same. Not having the nature doesn’t mean I don’t have the skills.” I flex my finger on the trigger. It clicks. “Be careful.”

Drayton balks.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he stammers, and it sounds fucking good. I lower the gun, then return to my chair.

“As I was saying, your idiots let Lorenzo Worth get in the building and damaged his leg on the way out.” He doesn’t take his eyes off mine. “Keep the club’s nose clean. Or you’re out.”

His brows knit together as his face darkens, caught somewhere between shock and fury, I think. The unexpected fright from moments ago has passed.

“The place is a brothel. I keep it as clean as I can. Play with the devil and it’s the risk we take. If you think the police don’t know what we do, you’re an idiot. Most of the force is on our bloody membership list.”

“That’s meant to protect us. So, tighten the procedures. Don’t let anyone in who smells at all bad. And keep your ear to the ground, instead of your cock in the produce.”

He stands and walks toward me, hackles raised. I tap the gun still sitting on my desk, then stand.

“Drayton, don’t push me. I know your nights are spent balls deep in the girls and not managing the club. Sort it.” We’re nose to nose, similar in height and stature. If things kick off, it would be an even match. “Remember who your boss is,” I remind him, and he backs down.

My aggressor turns away, and as he does, I catch Boyd’s eye.

He smiles, nodding with a hint of pride, real pride.

I stepped up today. He knows it, and so do I. Now it’s time to show the world the changed man I am.