5- Trusting heart

Morrsion POV

“You wanted to see me, Father?” I chirped as I walked into his home office.

“Come in, Morrison ,” my father said as he covered his phone receiver with one hand. “I will be off the phone in a moment.”

I sat down in one of the chairs across from his desk and planted my feet flat on the floor. I kept my hands in my lap and didn’t fidget while I waited for him to hang up. A few minutes later, he got done with his call and hung up after making a date to play golf with whoever was on the other end.

“Morrison, I called you in because I wanted to speak with you for a moment about your upcoming birthday,” he said, far more curtly than I’d expected. “Your stepmother is working hard to throw you a perfect party and she said you’re not cooperating with her attempts to create a menu.”

“But my birthday isn’t for six months. I thought we had plenty of time. I’m sorry,” I said and faked contrition.

“Your next birthday celebrates you leaving your teenage years. It’s important. A party for such an occasion takes a great deal of time to plan. Plus, some of my best business associates are bringing their eligible sons to meet you. We need to impress them. You’re already turning twenty, my darling son. If you make it past twenty-one without finding a husband, it will be almost impossible for me to find you the right match. There is too much competition. Younger, and more cooperative, competition,” he said with a plastic smile. “The quality of your marriage determines the rest of your life. Help me help you, and I’ll make sure you are richly rewarded. Cross me on this, and you know the consequences,” he said in a low, menacing tone.

“And why are you still wearing that?” he asked, pointing at my mother’s necklace. It was a plain sapphire pendant, but in the end, it was the only thing of value she owned. “I bought you a nicer one when you moved here. Don’t you appreciate the things I do for you?”

My fingers moved up to fidget with the necklace. There was no way I’d give it up. I didn’t care that he had bought me a necklace with a much larger sapphire and a platinum chain. Nothing could replace my mother’s necklace.

“It’s all I have of her,” I said sweetly. “I don’t mean to insult you.”

“Now, Anthony,” my stepmother said as she breezed into the room. “I’m sure Morrison will be more than happy to help me plan the menu when he finds out that I secured Collins Catering for the party. They are the best in town, and they can’t wait to meet with us. No need for anyone to get upset,” Harlow said. “I’m sure Morrison loves the necklace you bought him too. Any Omega would. You’ll consider wearing your new pendant to your party, won’t you, Morrison?”

“Sure,” I said, but I never took my mother’s necklace off.

My stepmother, Harlow, was only five years older than me. My father met her when she was only eighteen, and as far as I know, that’s when he began banging her.

At first, Harlow was supposed to be a side piece. Father thought she was too young and dumb to trap him into a relationship, but then she got a modeling contract. When that happened, she became another revenue stream for my father, as well as fresh arm candy. No man in his right mind would dump a beta as beautiful as Harlow. She was the perfect trophy wife.

My mom had spent her life raising me and tending to my father’s every need so she had no career, and in my father’s opinion, was ready to be put out to pasture as she neared forty.

“What do you say to that?” my father asked. His voice drew me out of my memories of my mother’s final lonely days. I felt ornery, but I decided my revenge would be better served cold.

“I think Harlow and I need to have some quality party planning time,” I said with a sickly-sweet lilt to my voice. “I’m sorry, Harlow. You’ve been working so hard to make my party a dream come true, and I’ve been a total cow about it.”

“Just don’t become a cow for real,” my father said with a self-satisfied laugh. “It will be impossible for me to marry you off to a Don’s son if you’re a fat ass.”

“Anything for you, Father,” I said and came around the desk to kiss him on the cheek. “I love you.” “I love you too, Morrison. I’d do anything for you,” he said.

I was counting on that.

Once we were in the hallway, Harlow dropped the loving mommy act. “Look, you little brat, you need to give your father what he wants, and what he wants is a nice party where he can show you off to the competition and make some new alliances. I’m not going to let you make me look bad,” she whispered so my father wouldn’t hear her venom.

“Fine, Harlow. Whatever. Order whatever food you want. Order what will make my father the happiest, but don’t bother me about this shit again. And whatever you do, don’t get me called into his office again. If I hear any more of this bullshit about me not cooperating with you, I’ll tell my father what I caught you and that bodyguard of yours doing in the stable.”

All the color drained from her face and I laughed as I took off for my room. “You wouldn’t,” Harlow called after me as she race-walked toward me in an attempt to catch up.

I spun around to face her. “Try me, you home-wrecking bitch.”

My phone rang as soon as I crossed the threshold into my room. I locked the door behind me and looked at the screen. It was my friend, Alegra. I used the term friend lightly there. As far as she was concerned, we were best friends forever. But as far as I was concerned, I’d been using her to keep my father off my back.

Alegra was a mafia princess, and her father was Boss of a family that had an alliance with my father. So my dearest father viewed her as the right kind of friend.

Personally, I would’ve murdered her in her sleep if it meant I didn’t have to go on one more insipid shopping trip for shoes.

“What’s up, bitchcakes?” she said into the phone as I answered. She refused to acknowledge that Omegas weren’t just girls with penises. It drove me absolutely insane sometimes.

“Not much, hooker,” I said back. “Hey, I have an idea.”

“Uh-oh. Are we going to get arrested?” Alegra sounded excited about the prospect. Even though she was just a fake best friend, I could always count on her to be down for causing trouble.

“I don’t want to wait for my birthday and my father’s lame-ass party,” I said. “How quickly do you think we could throw together a shindig with our most trouble-loving friends?”