Four

BECK- PRESENT

Long meetings with potential new clients are hard and tasking both mentally and physically; emotionally too, sometimes. However, no amount of ornery new clients can shake me as much as a ‘talk’ from my father.

At sixty-five, my father still strikes an imposing figure, with his full head of gray hair and well-kept and groomed body. Many find it attractive and have even ventured to call him debonair. He runs a tight ship and every one rushes to do his bidding, whether family, friend, staff or paparazzi. They all simply adore him.

But I know the truth about him. I think Alessia knows it too, but she is too much of a kiss ass to do anything about it. I know that my father is just a manipulative thug. Be it business or pleasure, he is used to getting his way; and everyone he has ever taken advantage of never knows that they have been manipulated.

I suppose that I am like him in a lot of ways, not just in looks. That is why I can sense his plotting a mile away. So, when he calls me to visit the house this evening, I know that I am about to be manipulated; but I cannot refuse him. No one refuses Domenico Caliri.

My mind tries to come up with several reasons for his summoning me. The recent media scandal with the daughter of his friend, Teresa, comes to mind; but I quickly clamp down on it. There is no way he would want to see me about that, as he owns more scandals than several bachelors combined. The only reason he would mention Teresa is because she is the daughter of his friend.

I groan when I remember Teresa and the nightmares she still gives me. Who would have thought the daughter of a billionaire would turn out to be a bipolar psycho stalker? I would probably need therapy to erase the scars on my mind.

I shudder again and walk into my younger brother, Dante. He smiles innocently at me and waves me away as he begins to descend the stairs I had just ascended. I watch him go for a minute and marvel at his carefreeness. No doubt one day he too would start to see me as competition, just like Alessia.

As if conjured by my thoughts, Alessia appears out of my father’s study. If looks could kill, I’d be dead, because her glare is so intense, I feel the hair at the back of my neck tingle. She angrily bumps into me as she stalks off in her six inch heels. I take it then that they had been talking about me.

“This is going to be bad.” I mutter to myself and walk in.

After a cursory greeting to my father, I pour myself a stiff drink before sitting across the table from him. I feel like I am at an interview, and that he is the interviewer.

“Carlo was a stupid man.” He begins, calling his father by his mane. I had never met my grandfather; only heard stories. To everyone else, he had been a great man; but not my father.

“For loving that wretched woman till his death.” He continues, referring to his mother. I spent two years with my grandmother before her death so I agree with his sentiments. She had been a bitch.

“The deal went off smoothly today. I successfully procured the hotel at half the budgeted price.” I say to my father, just to prompt him to talk faster. It is Sunday, and I have an appointment to help me kick start my week. My mind travels to the blonde model waiting for me at my penthouse and I glare at my father as my groin reacts to the memories of this morning. I can’t wait for this meeting to be over.

“That’s my boy.” He says proudly. I am twenty-seven, and refrain from reminding him that I am not a boy. “I would expect no less from my heir.” Again I refrain from reminding him that I am not his heir. He has four children, and Alessia is the eldest.

I swallow my drink and go for a refill. 

Tomorrow will be hectic and I am not looking forward to it. My team stumbled upon another prime property and we were neck to neck with our competitors. Today is the only break I have taken in three weeks, and he had to ruin it for me. I groan and pour him a full glass too, to loosen his tongue.

“Alessia is good but I cannot devote our family’s heritage to a woman. Carlo almost ruined it all, the lovesick fool.” He spits out and accepts the drink I hand him. He continues after a big swallow. “I am ready for retirement.”

“You have been saying that for the past three years.” I remind him.

“I mean it this time. I bought a new boat, and she is a beauty.” I don’t know why this should be news. Among various businesses, Caliri & Co.’s major source of income is its shipping line that offers not only transport for cargo, but boat clubs and cruise as well.

“We have several boats.” I remind him.

“This one is different. I did not buy her for the company.” He informs me; this is new. “I intend to sail her.” This is bigger news.

“You’re retiring to a life of debauchery?” I ask to clarify and he smiles lasciviously.

“I have devoted my life to this company. It is your turn, when you retire, you can do whatever you please.”

“You’ve travelled the world your whole life.” I tack on.

“Only for business. I want to explore the world.” He clarifies. I have no doubt what he wants to explore; child number five would probably be showing up soon, no doubt. I blow out a frustrated breath.

“So you want me to take over?” I ask, then add, even though it pained me to do so, “Alessia has earned more money for the company than I have.”

“That is why she would be staying on as your adviser.” He clarifies. I look at him as if he has grown horns and he laughs. “I know that you both do not get along, but it has to be done. I am not getting any younger, and I would like to have lived a little before I die. This business takes over your body and soul. It takes everything from you.”

“I understand.” I quip.

“Then you understand why I need time.”

“The company is safest in your hands.” I say lamely.

“The company is safest in the hands of a Caliri, which, might I remind you, Alessia is not.”

It was no secret that he had not approved of Alessia’s marriage to one of his employees. The way he sees it, Alessia is conniving with the COO to overthrow the Caliri’s. I knew that was not true. One look at their loved up faces is enough to tell me to stay away from that emotion. Like my father, I believe that love is not a practical emotion.

“I will be announcing you as my successor in the next quarterly board meeting.” My father says in a voice that brooks no argument. He finishes his drink and sets the glass aside. Then he folds his hands before him. I recognize this pose; this is his ‘father’ pose, the one that delivered all the scolding I received growing up.