| |
Despite what Richie had told me, I knew he would never keep his word. He would use any infraction to raid my possessions again. My courier services wouldn’t matter at all. It was just a way to control me, to make me cautious about any move I made and to hold any information I heard to myself. Who exactly did he think I would tell about his business? It wasn’t like I ran in circles where illegal activities were frowned upon. I didn’t even have a circle, and that admission made something die inside of me.
I longed to go downstairs and talk to Danny. His offer of help this afternoon had touched my heart, even though I knew they were only words. He could do nothing to help me—not with my life, my finances, or with Richie’s dominance. I’d been trapped the moment my father’s will had been read. Everything to Richie, nothing to me.
My future rested in my hands alone—and I’d finally figured that out.
I sat at my desk and stared at my collection of flash drives. Courses I’d already completed in business, hospitality, human resources, marketing, and my half-finished course in accounting. My future rested in these pieces of plastic. Yes, I knew the lessons by heart, but these drives were tangible proof of the progress I’d made toward someday owning my own restaurant. Not a strip club or a fancy five-star place. I wanted a tavern or a neighborhood bar and grill, something friendly and fun, filled with nice people who cared about other nice people. Lately I’d been toying with the idea of an Irish pub, but that was probably Danny’s influence. O’Shea’s Pub had a nice ring to it, but there were those dreams again coming up to bite me in the ass.
Still, these little pieces of plastic were my talismans, symbols of my hopes for the future. I hated that Richie had even touched them. They’d become insignificant to me now, tainted somehow, but I would keep them because they offered a bit of camouflage for what really mattered now.
I swept them up and put them all into my purse, along with another one. Richie could never be trusted, but he was often impulsive. He’d forced me into playing a part in his latest endeavor so he could gain back control of my life, but I never blindly walked into anything. Richie thought he saw everything, but when it came to me, he wore blinders. I was just Hannah, his day-shift manager, a woman like so many others in the neighborhood, to be used, abused, ignored, or forgotten.
He was wrong about me.
I knew what he planned, and I knew who was involved. I’d read all the messages. I’d kept copies of all of them, both for myself, as well as passing the information on to someone I thought I could trust. No matter how things went down, I had proof of this conspiracy in case I needed leverage for something in the future.
Richie continually underestimated me. For a smart man, he really wasn’t all that bright when it came to me.