Original Sins by Faith Summers

8

Henry

Thank fuck that auction is tonight.

Fucking, fuck, I didn’t know a man could go crazy so quickly. I’m on the verge.

I’m walking that thin line between staying sane and going insane.

I pick up the envelope with the memo my father sent me through his secretary, squash it up, and launch it through the air the same way I’d do a football.

The fucking memo was because I didn’t attend the staff meeting about shit. I’d already given my excuse for that, so I didn’t need to be reminded about the ethos and work ethic of a company I co-own. My fucking car broke down in the middle of rush hour. It’s reason enough to miss a meeting.

Always true to my aim, it goes in the bin the same way my football career went south.

I busted my knee in the middle of a game that I busted my ass to win. I was the quarterback of the college team at Yale. My future was so bright, and most of all, it was one I worked hard for.

I didn’t want to go into the family business and push pencils the way Dad wanted me to. I only did accounts because I was good with numbers. I mixed that with computer science to make life more interesting, never knowing my life would take a turn down a path I never saw coming.

I invested my time in football because I could see shit like today happening to me if I did what my father wanted me to do.

I’ve been back for five weeks now, and my father is already driving me crazy with his stringent controls and attempts to make me look bad.

That’s what he was trying to do today when he changed the order on the budget to something else and didn’t tell me.

It was when I saw Carson laughing with him that I realized the shit and his part in it too. This type of juvenile behavior is beyond me.

My stepbrother knows not to push me because I wouldn’t hesitate to bust his ass, but the motherfucker also knows I’m trying to get in my father’s good graces.

That’s the only reason I didn’t say anything, and I’m not saying anything now.

I was supposed to go to the resort today, but I didn’t because he was going to be there overseeing the contractors.

My presence there was mainly to check on things. Donny asked me to do that from time to time to make sure everything was going fine.

I couldn’t deal with Carson today, so I’ll go on Monday when he’s not there.

I don’t want to taint tonight or this weekend because of the auction. When I escape into fantasy with my virgin, I don’t want the real world coming at me with all manner of shit to screw with me.

That’s why I dived into the other aspect of my job that shouldn’t make me want to climb the walls.

While Georgiou has taken over as head accountant for Donny’s bank, I’ll be doing something similar for the resort.

I never tell anybody the details of my basic work. One, because most of what I do is technically illegal, and two, because if people knew what I do, they’d have time to cover their tracks.

My basic work essentially covers my ass in case anything goes wrong. What I mean by wrong is in case anyone is up to shit like siphoning money or embezzlement of any kind. To check things like that out, I have to investigate everybody who works at the place. To do that, I have to hack their systems and do a check. If they're legit, they pass. If not, then I do more research.

Since I would hate for anything to go wrong in relation to Donny and come back to bite me, my basic work has actually taken me the whole month, and I’m not finished yet.

The first part was to get all the paper-based records for the accounts of the resort for the last five years. I always go with a five-year period because that’s when you can pick up trends.

Peter the prick delivered the paperwork to me in my first week. Of course, it was a shit ton of documents. I needed to run through them first to make sure everything online checks out, especially where Donny cleans money from the prostitution ring. If the feds were to investigate him, I want to make sure that money is as clean as can be.

I started the online checks a few hours ago and just focused on the staff. I’m doing it in alphabetical order as opposed to the job role. I’m currently at M, so Peter has the misfortune of being in that batch.

On Monday I’ll do the rest.

There’s a knock at my door. I’m not expecting anyone because no one talks to me unless they have to. It’s also fucking late, and I don’t want any extra stress.

“Come in,” I call out even though in my head I’m cursing whoever it is to kingdom come. When Dad opens the door, I don’t even bother to school my thoughts.

“Hi,” he says, holding up some paperwork.

“Hi, what’s up?”

“I just need you to sign off on these. We need to access the budget for the interior decorators.”

“Sure.”

He must hate that he has to come to me to sign anything.

Dad steps forward and sets the paperwork on my desk. I sign and hand it back to him.

“Is there anything else?”

He’s about to answer when he sees the memo in the waste bin and frowns.

When he looks back at me, his nostrils flare, and his eyes blaze, but I don’t care.

“Is that what you think of my memos?” he snaps.

“Dad, the memo was unnecessary. I’m aware of what I need to do to uphold the integrity of the company. My car broke down.”

“I’m sure if you’d left earlier, you wouldn’t have had a problem.”

“Yes, I would have because I did leave early enough. I got stuck in rush hour. The meeting was about the budget for the next quarter. I’ve caught up on the minutes.”

“If I wanted my staff to get caught up from the minutes, I wouldn’t hold meetings. That was the first budget meeting this month, and you should have been there.”

My God. This is shit. I won’t bother to point out that there were several people who should have been at the meeting but weren’t because I’m the one who shares his DNA, not them.

I’m the one who fucked up all six ways to Sunday when it came to this man, and he’s not going to let me forget.

“I’ll be at the next meeting, Dad. Problem solved. I get the message.”

“I don’t think you have, but it’s a testament that you haven’t changed one bit. You’re just older and willing to screw with things more than you did before.”

“I have changed, and I don’t know what the hell it’s going to take for you to see that.”

“You know what? Drop it. It doesn’t matter. Thanks for signing off the paperwork.”

Before I can say another word, he turns on his heel and marches out of my office as if I’m a petulant child he’s just issued punishment to.

The door slams, and in a fury, I knock a stack of documents off my desk.

I can’t do this.

I actually can’t fucking do it.

I’m not going to last here, and it’s not because I’m weak. I’m anything other. My problem is my father.

I live by a certain standard of professionalism, and he doesn’t. He’s always in asshole mode, which is amplified because I happen to be his son.

That’s not how I want to spend the rest of my fucking days. It’s alright when you’re in your teens or early twenties, and you’re just starting out, but not at my age.

Sorry, Grandfather.

I know what he was trying to do. It wasn’t just about the money or the legacy. It was also about fixing the broken relationship I have with my father. My grandfather was the only person who continued to talk to me throughout the years, and it was more like he was the parent who was trying his best to fix things.

It was always fucking like that. He was the one who went to every single football game and the guy who was there for me when I needed him the most. He had to fucking push my father to support me, and he’s doing it now from beyond the grave.

There’s only so much a person can do, however. So I’m saying right now that I’m giving myself a year here.

That would have meant I tried. Money is not a problem for me. I have more than enough. My time at Giordanos Inc. was invaluable. I was paid in abundance for my talents and appreciated.

I can work anywhere or start my own company.

With that reasoning to balance my sanity, I return to my computer screen. I have an hour before I have to go.

I’m meeting Georgiou early at the hotel the auction will be held at so we can get an early view of the girls who will be taking part.

They walk behind a two-way mirrored wall so we can see them, but they can’t see us. It adds to the mystery and fantasy.

I click on the next employee on the list and smile when I see it’s Peter.

Let me see how much of a brown-nosing asshole this guy is. I’m expecting everything to be squeaky clean even when I hack his personal files. That motherfucker would probably try to kill me if he ever knew what I was doing.

The thought brings a bigger smile to my face. He could try but never succeed.

I’m not from the mafia, but that doesn’t mean my fucking eyes were closed all these years of working with them.

I find porn in his personal stash and gloss over it. I’m not interested in what gets him off.

I bring up all his transactions and activities in regard to the resort over the last five years—everything.

My system is set up to put it all together so I can do a quick scan and rule a person out.

The first thing that pops to me on his file is a list of transactions to an account that looks like a personal one, but there’s no name attached to it. That’s weird by itself.

The other glaringly obvious thing that’s weird is he made these transactions using Donny’s password, so he logged in with his details.

Would Donny have authorized that?

I can obviously confirm it was Peter from my setup.

Every other transaction is to a business account with a business name which is what I was expecting. The only personal accounts transactions are supposed to go to are the staff on the payroll. This doesn’t look like that, although at first glance, it could be.

Donny doesn’t use the resort to do anything too shady. He has the other assets to play with when it comes to that.

I might not question it so much if I were looking through the transactions at the bank because fuck knows how many special people he pays through there.

There are twenty transactions to this account over the five-year period. Four per year on the same day each year. The transactions are all payments and for the same amount. Always fifty g’s, which is small in comparison to the money the place brings in, but it’s suspicious as fuck.

What are you up to, Peter?

That prompts me to check out the account—hack.

If I get a name, then I can clarify what’s going on. I hack the account, and when I see who it belongs to, I fully believe Peter is definitely up to no fucking good.

The account belongs to Ricco Santorini. That’s the same guy Georgiou had a run-in with over the building he wants for his club.

More importantly, Ricco is a guy Donny would never do business with.

So why did Peter?

* * *

“Ricco Santorini?” Georgiou narrows his eyes.

I nod. “I know, right? It’s weird as fuck. Why would Peter be giving him two hundred grand a year?” I keep my voice low.

Georgiou shakes his head.

I didn’t want to bring work with me to the auction, but this was something I had to mention.

His phone was off for the whole afternoon so talking here was my only option.

We stand by the wall opposite the bar where we can get a good view but also talk in private.

“That makes no sense at all. What else did you see?”

“Nothing. There was no contract of business, no email trail, nothing at all.” That was the next thing I looked at. “Georgiou, what worries me is he used Donny’s log-in details.”

“That worries me too. I’m inclined to believe it can’t be anything other than what it looks like. Are we supposed to think Donny would just hand him the password so he could make these transactions to Ricco? I mean, I get that Peter is basically like a son to him, but something’s off about it. Something’s off about it for the fact that he’s giving the money to Ricco.”

“Should I contact Donny?”

Georgiou thinks for a moment and draws in a steady breath. “Hold off for a bit. Let’s watch Peter’s ass and see what he’s up to. I don’t think it can be anything good, but we should dig deeper to get the full picture then contact Donny. I’ll check him out from my end, too, and maybe get my brother to rig something up to watch him on the streets.”

Christian can do hacking shit like that. He picks up where I leave off. It might also be good for Georgiou to ask for his brother’s help because those two aren’t particularly close.

“Alright, enough of this. I’m not talking about it anymore.”

He chuckles. “Me neither. Time to zone out. Here come the virgins.”

I follow his gaze to the other side of the room, and so does every other man.

The virgins walk down the path in a slow procession like their walking down the aisle. All are dressed in white Grecian-style robes with their long hair flowing down their shoulders in graceful, innocent waves.

This is the first viewing. The second viewing is at the end when you get to meet your prize and sign contracts. There’s an hour of grace where you get to meet each other. The contract officially starts at nine a.m. sharp tomorrow morning, just like a workday.

There are thirty virgins tonight.

All beautiful, all perfect, all a fantasy.

The last girl, however, is something else. Georgiou and I see her at the same time, and I can just bet the same thing that enticed me hooked him too.

She was the only one to look at the wall, and she looked nervous while the others had a spark of excitement about them.

The women who enter this auction do so because they most often need the money.

There’s no shame in that.

That’s why we’re all here. We have the money, and they need it.

But there are those who are desperate and those who do it for the thrill and the fun.

She looks like the first type, but I like the nervousness I sense in her. That and the fact that she’s fucking beautiful with the kind of body made to fuck.

“Georgiou,” I say, motioning to the girl.

“Yes, I see her.”

“You all in?”

“Fuck yeah.”

That means nobody will outbid us, and we’ll play the game so no one will even try.

I must look like a mad man as I smile.