Traded(88)

Miller leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “It’s part of who we are,” he said simply.

Was it though? Maybe Miller and Dad were right. It might be in our blood—without it, I never would have been able to open one restaurant much less three—but there was this small part of me that just wished . . .

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I am. Embrace it. No one will ever fuck with Elena now. She’s yours, which means everyone will leave her alone so they don’t have to deal with us.”

He had a point. Elena would be safe from all of the bullshit she’d dealt with in the past. “You’re right. I have a drop on Tuesday. I’ll take her with me.”

Miller shrugged. “There’s got to be something to the theory. Mom’s kept Dad all these years without kicking his ass to the curb.”

My phone buzzed on the desk. “Speaking of Dad.”

“His ears must be ringing. I’ve got a meeting with Max Taran. Fucker better have his shit together. I’m not helping his ass this time.”

It always amazed me how different Miller became when dealing with clients. He was cold, calculating. There were no second chances with Miller. Either you paid him the money or left with at least one broken bone, if not more. You’d never though that side existed when you spoke with him, but it was there, lingering just under the surface.

“We’ll talk later,” I said, picking up the phone.

Miller waved and closed the door behind him.

I swiped my finger across the screen. “Hello?”

“Ashton, have you seen your brother. He’s not answering his phone.”

I chuckled. “Idiot probably has it on silent again. He just left to deal with Max Taran.”

“Good. I wasn’t sure if he’d remember.” I heard yelling in the background. “Your mother wants me to tell you she can’t wait to see Elena again.”

“I saw the show again on Sunday. I had no idea she was that good.”

“You two looked awful cozy together on Saturday night,” he accused.

The thought of how she’d stayed by my side brought a smile to my face. “She’s moving in with me.”

Dad didn’t pull any punches. “Have you taken her on a collection or loan yet?”

“Dad, she’s already seen it. Hell, she’s been in the middle of it.”

“As a client—not from the other side of the fence.”

I sighed. “Miller said the same thing. That she needs to know because it’s part of who we are.”

“And he’s right. You can’t expect her to understand your life if you don’t show it to her.”

The question from earlier came smashing back into me.

Is this really my life?

“Why did you want me to do this?”

Silence.

I could picture him staring at the phone. His brows would be drawn down and a frown on his face. “Because I knew you could. Miller never wanted anything but to be part of the business and, call me selfish, but I wanted you to be there too. I knew you could do both. Now you have the restaurants on top of what you do for the family. Besides, you wouldn’t have met Elena if it weren’t for all of this.”

He had a point. Without any of this, Elena wouldn’t be sleeping in my bed every night, so I had something to be thankful for, besides the financial aspect.

Dad and I talked a little longer before he hung up. Our conversation gave me a lot to think about as I sat at my desk, going over the books.

How in the hell had I managed to get this far behind? Oh right—I’d been wining and dining Elena in the hope that if and when she left her husband she might want to stay with me. The books were up to date, and so were the orders. Mainly, it was a lot of calls to return for catering and the dreaded filling. Not to mention meeting with the new distributor. Damn, Joanne needed to come back from vacation before the paperwork got worse. Then I could go back to what I loved.

The last two nights I’d watched Elena up on that stage, a part of me was a little jealous. She was getting to be everything she always wanted to be. Not that I wasn’t successful, but over the years I’d found myself moving further and further from what I loved about running a restaurant. Spending all of my time collecting debts for my dad had got me to where I was, and now so much of the money loaned was my own that I knew I couldn’t really step away until I figured out a way to bring my dad back in to take over. Either way, I was going to start making being a chef and the other things I wanted to do in the restaurant a priority.

Picking up the phone, I began to dial the first number when a knock sounded on my door. Pierre opened it, followed by another man.