Children of Vice (Children of Vice #1)(5)
Sighing, she stood in front of me and reached out to place her hand on my cheek, but I backed away. Unfazed, she dropped her hand and spoke again, “You do realize marriage in this family is undoable, correct? You know nothing other than she isn’t Callahan material, which is the most important thing for her to be, and yet are willing to sacrifice the rest of your life, privacy, and peace, simply so your grand plan can come together?”
“If it means protecting this family’s name and legacy, I’d set myself on fire.” I felt my whole body tensing as I spoke. “I will not be the son who inherited the kingdom only to let it crumble at my feet. That is not my fate.”
“You do know this is why your cousins are scared of you, correct?” She pouted. “They think you’d kill even me in order to win…let alone them.”
I stared at her a long time. She was testing me, wanting to hear what I’d say, and so I didn’t answer. Reaching over, I grabbed the gun and placed it in the concealed shoulder holster under my arm before grabbing my coat and offering her my arm.
“Would you like to join me for brunch, Nana?”
“Fine, you can tell me all about where to find this girl,” she replied, walking toward the double doors to exit.
“Ethan…” Her voice trailed off as she eyed me dangerously, when again I didn’t answer.
“Ricker Hill.”
“PRISON?”
“Didn’t I mention that?” I paused by my door, hand on the handle.
“NO, you f*cking did not!” She cursed, and I couldn’t help but smirk.
“And here I thought you didn’t judge, Grandmamma—”
“Well, you were wrong for once.”
“Once out of a million is hardly a bad record. Shall we go?” I held the door open for her.
Her nose flared and she looked as though she wanted to smack me. However, she maintained her composure upon seeing both Toby and Greyson standing in wait.
“This isn’t over.”
How could it be? It hadn’t even begun.
TWO
“Does the walker choose the path, or the path the walker?”
~ Garth Nix
ETHAN
They all clapped as I stood before them, the camera flashes nearly blinding, and yet I was unfazed, far too used to this: speaking to other wealthy and/or important people, in a luxurious ball room, talking about how much we cared about this city, our beautiful Chicago, and all the ugly people who chose to live in it…myself included. Ugly because we all knew, what this city was built on, and we knew how hard it was to grow up here, how jaded it could make you. And yet we took pride in it.
“It is with great honor and privilege that I stand here before you all. Yesterday, TIME Magazine named me the most influential mogul of the decade, and because I am a Callahan I cannot humbly accept anything,” I said, causing a few of them to snicker.
“Especially when I know it’s not true. A decade ago I stood at the precipice of maturity, savoring the last few moments of freedom before responsibility dawned. Ever presently aware that the shoes I was to step in were impossible to fill for any human. The right foot, a size nine, four inch, white Prada heel with crystal embellishments just because…and the left foot, a size thirteen, custom Paul Costelloe Derby Shoe in leather and never suede because a man should always see his reflection when he looked down…”
Damn this speech. And I knew without a doubt who I had to thank for it.
“My parents revolutionized this city. My father reinvigorated the private sector, which is why, today, Chicago stands as the leading city in job creation. The policies my mother and her administration applied have made not just Chicago, but universities in all of Illinois, find ranking spots within the top five schools in the country, with over eighty-seven percent of its residents holding high school diplomas. A percentage so shocking that Peter McBurg, one of my mother’s greatest critics, wrote this morning: ‘my hometown of Chicago, which was once synonymous with names like Al Capone and the Mafia, has now become synonymous with Mark Zuckerberg and Silicon Valley. I’m not sure if I should weep or sing.’”
More ugliness…now that the city had improved we didn’t talk about that, we talked about the dark ages because they missed the chaos. The old Chicago. The irony of it all was almost too much to bear.
“We should honor the men and women here today, who worked relentlessly to push the vision of my parents long after they had passed and graciously allowed me to take all the credit for it. As their son and on the behalf of my whole family, I thank and applaud you all for your hard work and success.”
Stepping back, I clapped. One by one, they all got up from their seats, whistling and cheering loudly. My grandmother leaned in as I did, my arm around her shoulder for the cameras, her face pressed against mine, causing me to tense, though I was sure she didn’t notice.
“Donatella’s speeches are getting far too self-deprecating for my liking,” I whispered to her, hoping to distract her.
She smiled as we both turned to the cameras. “The girl has a gift. I almost cried.”
I smirked at that. My grandmother hadn’t cried since my father had died and nothing was changing that…she ate nails for breakfast just to keep her tongue sharp.
“Senator Forbes.” She stepped away toward the balding man walking toward us.