Tell Me Your Fears

Chapter 3: Levi

I was ready to kill someone.

By someone, I meant anyone who thinks they had the balls to cross me at two in the afternoon after an explosive meeting that apparently couldn't be over a Zoom call so I had to fly in yesterday morning. Safe to say, I hated Chicago.

Not only had the meeting been pointless, just squabbling investors arguing over who's got the biggest balls in the room, but the memory of last night's lame excuse of a wedding was fresh in my head. And, I was tired as f**k.

I was itching for a fight so I'm silently daring at least one stupid motherfucker inside this building to even just block my path so I'd have a reason to fire them on the spot. That'll get human resources to get in contact with me and maybe then I'd be lucky to piss one of them off enough to throw the first punch. Then I'll have an excuse to start a brawl. No one ever faults the person on the other end of the first punch anyway. I might be eager for a fight but I still have a reputation to uphold.

Unfortunately for me, no one did as I managed to leave the elevator to the twenty-fifth floor where my assistant was already seated at her desk right outside my office with an ever present frown on her face that was too close to the monitor, squinting.

Damn it, didn't I tell her to her eyes checked? f**k her if she somehow slips down the stairs and the media circus would go blame my goddamn company for not apparently not covering for a prescription glasses.

When Janessa sees me, she doesn't bother to straighten her posture or greet me with a polite beam unlike the other employees in the building. Instead, she doesn't try to hide the silent "f**k you" behind her eyes after all the s**t I've put her through.

Didn't mean she hated her job, though. She would have left long ago if she did.

"Bryan Weaver just called again," she said by way of greeting as I strode past her desk. "He's insisting on scheduling a meeting for next week."

My hand paused on the steel handle. "Regarding?"

I'll let you in a secret: I don't give two shits about what that prick wants. Last month, it was a project proposal he wants funding, a private membership hotel that costs higher than all the Trump hotels combined. Last week it was an interest on investing in my company. He's delusional if he thinks I want his greasy hands all aboard ship.

My company's not corporate, and I'll make damn sure no one taints its image until my last breath and having Weaver associated with my name equivalents to signing my legacy to a lifetime in a cage surrounded by wolves. Ergo, Weaver being a wolf himself. No, he's more of a leech who sucks everyone dry with a promise he'll give back the blood he took. Spoiler alert: he never does.

It's not like he needed the money. He comes from a well-off name, generations of respected men with respected backgrounds, professionals who spent five to ten years in university to earn an MBA.

In other words, Brian Weaver was the epitome of crying wolf. He's shameless for asking people money in the form of a compelling speech at an organized meeting and by the hour, he's got his claws hooked on his potential victim without them even knowing.

It's almost poetic, really. Preying on the wealthy who doesn't mind having a six figure dent that just sits collecting dust in their bank accounts for his risky ventures. Better than scamming some poor lad of his last penny to feed his family. I'm above criticizing on the basis of morality, God knows I'm no better when it comes to it considering my ethics are questionable most times. But Weaver's the lesser evil among New York sharks. Evil, nonetheless. I don't even think there isn't anyone that's not in the state of New York.

"Leviations LLC." I resist rolling my eyes. "He's suggesting buying a share of the company. Apparently, he believes he could make it soar high by bringing stock exchange into the mix."

I scoff. That's an idea. Like I said, Leviations LLC is not corporate. Listening to his insane ideas would lead my business directly down the rabbit hole. But I'll give the ambitious fucker props for being bold. "Tell him to kiss my ass and f**k off." My parting words before I throw the heavy glass door open with a force that it doesn't close.

Because of the open air, I faintly hear Janessa speaking on the phone telling someone, probably Weaver's assistant, that I'd be in contact if I managed to free up my schedule. A subtle indication of rejection. It was mainly because of my team that I'm not quite regarded as a complete asshole by my peers. If it was up to me, I'd cuss them out 'till kingdom come.

I never had any qualms with the guy despite uncovering his shady dealings a while back when I ran a thorough background check over the guests who RSVP'd my mass invitation when my assistant s***h one night stand of my freshman year of college suggested to have an opening party when my company started to grow five years ago. Not the best day considering I hated parties and vowed to steer clear of them after I moved away from my hometown in Ridgewood Bay. But I had to get myself on the map, and what better way to properly introduce myself to the business world by meeting the prominent figures in the New York industry.

Being young, skeptics would say I'd go broke by the age of twenty-three when I tinkered with the idea of forming my own software company when I was in my teens constantly investing all my life savings for new equipment. Not that anyone knew, even my brothers who were the only people who cared enough about me to annoyingly pry with my s**t given the chance. They might have been right had I not moved away from our dainty little town to the big the apple. Despite not liking the idea of sharing a bathroom with twenty other kids—couldn't even stand when Elio shared mine when his pipe got clogged for a whole week and was too lazy to get it fixed—I forced myself to suck it up and focus on the big picture.

I moved to New York when I was seventeen, a junior in high school for an all boy's school in Westchester. Not that it was a die-hard decision. I had my reasons. One being my hunger for establishing my own name away from the shadows of my two older brothers. I wanted the Pavlov name to be household, to be entirely apart from the initial established persona my father dragged through the mud before restoring it back with his candidacy for mayor. And most definitely away from my successful brothers in their own field who inadvertently made me become just "the other brother" who no one noticed and cared unless they have a penchant for having a revenge plot against those two cocky shits. Not that I couldn't stand my own. That's just a perception. Just because I wasn't as vicious as Julian and Elio doesn't mean I was completely defenseless. They learned that the hard way. After all, the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree.

I wanted to change that. The only solution I could think of was to remove myself from behind the distorting glass and make a name for myself. I couldn't do it alone, not being a measly kid from a small town. I had to make connections—friends who are as influential as the next with highly respected fathers and grandfathers that could pave a way to my future plans.

Boarding school was just that. Building connections as a high-speed rail to get what I want faster. That didn't mean I had room to slack off. I developed my first successful software when I was sixteen and began teasing it to the market with an immediate response from other companies wanting to buy my work. I held it off, dangled the fruit above their heads with a false hope of making them the next best thing. However, their jeweled hands didn't caress my software seeing as I've always had plans to build a company of my own. I just needed a little boost and support from the right people. That is what business is all about, using and taking without remorse. How do you think people get ahead of the game? Another spoiler alert: it's not by being empathetic and friendly.

By the time I was a senior in boarding school, me and two of my former roommates—the son of a senator and an heir to a wealthy business corporation—had already invested in software company. Business men always go for the rising opportunities before others could hop on the bandwagon, and Leviations LLC was the fresh meat behind the counter everyone was dying to get. The rest is history.

A lot of people tried to replicate my software but couldn't even get close. And because of the way I teased my software back when I was a teenager, it was one of the most anticipated release of the century.

The Chicago office was one of the first branch I managed to set up at the start when my company grew but my main office was set up in New York. I had each of my buildings structured to have an office for when I decide to fly in and see how things were doing. People ensure the best results when they're intimidated and my presence was a steamroller.

My ass barely parked on my before Janessa unapologetically strode inside without so much as a knock. But what's new? She's the only person who didn't give a f**k about my attitude and doesn't shy away from a fight if she thinks I was being unreasonable. Which in turn made her a pain in the ass. I loved a challenge and my easily frightened employees weren't making my job hard in the least.

That's one more reason why I hadn't let her go despite the unsavory start of our relationship freshman year when we both got drunk at a mutual friend's party and hooked up in the bathroom. She's damn good at her job and holds her own if thrown inside the lion's den.

"Manners, Janessa," I mumble, taking out documents from my bag.

She looked one sneeze away from rolling her eyes. "Don't make me laugh. you haven't gotten one so why should I show mine to you? You need to see this."

Janessa picked up the remote for the office TV and flipped over to the news channel where Peralta's face occupied half the screen while a grainy footage of a woman wearing a red dress was plastered on the other.

A red dress I had never been able to forget even as I woke up from my hotel bed this morning.

She was a nobody, one of the hundred of acquaintances, if not passerby, that I've encountered throughout my life yet I can never get her out of my mind as soon as she disappeared from the hallway we ran into at the woodland mansion of Peralta's niece's disaster of a wedding last night.

Who the hell was she? Most importantly, how the f**k had she managed to steal thousands of dollars from one of the notorious business men in Chicago all in one night?

Red was smart, I'll give her that. I kept thinking about it over and over again about why she did it. I made up tons of theories on the one-hour drive back to my hotel after the ceremony ended with the dinner having been cut short by all the commotion.

Initially, I speculated that it was an inside job. One of Peralta's associates maybe was out for his throat and wanted to make a mockery out of his business partners by orchestrating a disaster. But for such a trivial reason, why go through all that trouble? Surely, they could think of bigger ways to humiliate him or strip him of his title. But no one was foolish enough to cross him. Hell, I gathered enough dirt on him enough for blackmail but I wasn't a stupid f**k to let my ego set up a mouse trap intended for a lion.

No, it was much more shallow than that. That girl should have known better that Peralta was not going to let this go by and say que sera sera. Which led me to my next assumption. Red was just that: a foolish girl who saw an opportunity for a quick buck. A gold-digger with the thought she could pull a theft over some miserable middle aged man who's looking for a tight young hole to f**k.

Seemed plausible. However, the way none of the cameras caught a clear view of her face tells me this was premeditated. This wasn't just about some f*****g jewelry.

She managed to slip past Peralta's security and strode hand in hand with him as they entered the mansion as if they owned the place. It was an inside job, just coming from a stranger they least expected.

I had people monitoring his financial dealings, bank statements, and issuances ever since I set my sights on him ten months ago. Imagine my f*****g surprise when I got a call last night from one of my guys and told me there was a sizable dent made on Neil's private bank account just minutes before the wedding ceremony started. That just confirmed my suspicion. Red was clever to keep Peralta busy with searching for the thief of his Rolex that he wasn't able to answer his phone from his personal banker that would have informed him about the company account he supposedly "invested" in was nothing but suspicious.

Though, none of it was reported on the news.

I stare at the side of Red's face on the screen, distorted by the grainy footage of an obsolete security camera capturing her exiting the women's bathroom and greeting one of Peralta's men. If the camera wasn't the problem, she angled her head just enough to not capture her full tanned face.

She could have gotten away with it considering Neil willingly transferred the money himself to that account. However, she's being ostracized on the news for crashing a high profiled wedding and causing such a discourse with the guest. Oh, and the jewel theft as well.

Mystery girl caused quite the stir at the prestigious Peralta-Gonzales wedding at the Beraldi Mansion last night. Reports say she robbed the business tycoon Neil Peralta of a Rolex watch amidst the ceremony after being seen entering the ceremony hall hand in hand. A robber or a jealous lover?

I let out a faint smile recalling the events of last night. She had no business with my life nor had I hers. Yet, why did I felt the need to help her flee? I could have given her to Peralta's men and I'd be the talk of his inner circle for a whole month. Hell, it was a one way ticket into his inner circle. After all, that was what I ad planned in the beginning. Get close to Peralta and find out everything he knows about the invisible target on my back I can't seem to shake off.

I close my eyes for a brief second. The way she looked when I handed her over to the guards. She was angry. Livid. I could see it in her eyes. But it was masked by the terrified glint of her pupils as she debated with herself, possibly calculating for a way out.

Without having anytime to think, I accidentally spilled my champagne glass with the intention of catching him in a surprise before knocking him out. Before I was able to, though, she had already sprinted to action, knocking them one by one without even colliding her fist with their heads.

Silently, I was grateful. That way, I wouldn't have been placed completely on his blacklist by opposing him.

But I couldn't have just watched them drag her to her unknown fate. Chances were she wasn't getting out without at least one body part detached. Or a teeth.

Now here's the f*****g tsundere, twenty-four hours ago, I would have been fine with that. I didn't give a s**t about matters that didn't concern me nor should I have. Knowing she could have died and I wouldn't even bat an eyelash.

Damn it. I was becoming a f*****g prissy tot for actually caring for some woman who gave me lip at the hallway. But goddamn it if she didn't stir an invisible cauldron I didn't know still existed inside of me.

"I take it, the wedding went well?" My thoughts were interrupted by my assistant's cool tone.

"As smooth as a baby's ass," I grunted sarcastically.

"Do you want to take action? Your lawyers are on speed dial."

"Leave it. Too much paperwork." The last thing I wanted was unnecessary drama concerning someone I was practically stalking through cameras. Though, I had to pull my private investigator back this morning considering I've gotten all the important information I need. Last night's event was strictly for close family and tight-knit business associates and partners. I managed to secure an invite when with a promise he'd have a reserved share for purchase of my company once I decide to make it corporate—which was never going to happen.

Since I had the guest list for all the people present, I now had a fresh list of potential suspects.

She settled the remote down on my desk folding her arms in front of her chest. "What really happened last night? All you said on the phone was that you and the other guests were subjected to a pat down. That's invasion of personal space. That would hold up at court for psychological damage. Even better, violation of freedom. The compensation could fund Leviation Technologies."

"I said no. That amount is not worth the hassle."

Janessa lets out an incredulous laugh. "As if you're the one's doing the work. It's me and your legal team that's going to attend the hearings for you."

"Exactly. Who's going to get me a cup of coffee every morning? And the afternoons now," I say with the insinuation that I wanted one now.

She finally rolls her eyes. "And wipe your ass after you take a s**t and put you to bed like a f*****g baby after a goddamn drunken night. I swear to god, if the benefits weren't good I would left your ass to the sharks." Which translates to: I'm not leaving my job just because you're an asshole with no regard for consideration. Yeah, like a give a s**t. I pay her not just for doing a job but for putting up with my ass. Glad to know she stuck around despite sometimes being unpleasant to be around with.

That's why she was perfect for the job. She didn't take s**t up the ass just because someone says so.

"And where the f**k is Ruby?" I don't answer her. "Goddamn it, Levi. Did you drive here alone?"

"No." Technically, I drove to the office with a stick up my ass.

"Then where the hell is your bodyguard?" Running around Willis Tower trying to look for the phone currently in my pocket the last time I saw him an hour ago.

My eyes were focused on flipping the pages of the current document in my hand. "Indisposed."

Janessa closed her eyes, rubbing her fingers on both sides of her temple. "Levi." She inhales. "Now is not the time to play stubborn. You cannot be childish when someone is—"

I close the document. "Ruby's on his way here, if he's not already in the lobby. He should know better than to leave me alone for more than half an hour."

If that satisfied my assistant, she doesn't show it as she walked away.

"Black, no sugar, and—"

She waved a hand through the air. "Yeah, yeah. I know."

"Appreciate it, Ness."

"Whatever," she grumbled, already half way to the door. "Oh, and get in contact with Dane. He's been bitching over the phone about how you haven't returned his calls all day."

I'll take a mental note to do that. I've purposely muted his incomings not because I was busy with work the whole the day but I know he'll be bitching about something that's out of my control. Lately, that's my sister and the shitty acts she's been captured doing on video all over social media.

I lean against the cool leather of the chair, the silence filling me with a sense of calmness. I'm thankful that the only people occupying this section of the twenty-fifth floor were me and my assistant. I've had enough the Chicago noise. Not that New York was any better. But at least New York traffic didn't hold a candle against this shithole. I'd have to hear constant car horns and f*****g yelling on the streets from impatient almost-road ragers.

I let myself simmer down for just a minute. That useless meeting took a toll on me.

My peace was interrupted by the blaring sound on my personal office phone. I look through the glass windows that divided my office from the outside with a clear view of Janessa's desk, who was noticeably absent with preparing my coffee in the break room.

That's odd. She usually patches people to my office phone.

I pick up the phone reluctantly. "Levi Pavlov. Who am I speaking to?"

"Yo, Lev! Pick up your phone for one goddamn minute will you?"

Dane.

I roll my eyes resisting to hang up on him on the spot. It's not like we haven't seen each other for a week. I live with him for Christ's sake. I could use the time away from his annoying ass.

He knows better not to call me on my office phone so he must have an urgent matter to discuss. "What's up?" I asked, flipping over the pile of documents on my desk.

"Your kid sister's t**s are what's up. What the hell are you doing letting her flash her pompous ass on the internet for?"

I shake my head. Adeleide's a teenager, that's not my fault she wanted to act like one. I don't know when Dane became her fuckin' father when her own couldn't even be bothered to care. Whatever, I'll leave the scolding up to Julian, our oldest brother.

"What I'm more concerned about is what the hell are you doing looking at my kid sister's pompous ass on the internet for?"

There was a pause on the line. "I'm no perverted f**k, you shithead! But a thousand other potential rapists are out there already beating their stick behind the computer. s**t, this video's going viral left and right. Aren't you worried?"

"Addie's eighteen, man. She can do whatever the hell she wants," I say, despite already on the computer looking for that damn video. It's not the first time she's accidentally gone viral for the wrong reasons. Not the first time ridding the internet of her disreputable partying or flashing a boob or two as well. "I'll intervene if she asks me to."

Which she never does. Despite her fame for being the life of the party, she rarely goes over social media to notice her ass hanging out from her tiny excuse of a dress. And me? I was just glad I have yet to be traumatized by my baby's sister's obscene acts considering I don't exactly watch the videos I keep taking down of her on the internet. I'll leave that worry to Dane and the rest of her brothers who may or may not have beat the s**t out of ten guys who had cruel intentions for Addie before they had the chance to act on it.

"f**k that, dude. Take it off the internet right the f**k now."

"Christ, don't you get tired of telling me what to do?" I wedged the phone between my ear and my shoulder as I work on getting the video down from all platforms.

"Not until you get tired of doing what I tell you to do."

"Might I remind you you're in New York." And Adeleide's in Ridgewood Bay. "Why the hell are you concerning matters that's out of your zip code?"

"You do know your sister and I are friends on f*******: when your asshole of a brother forced me to chaperone her on that homecoming dance of hers."

"Case in point: why do you care about my sister?"

The line went silent again. I let out a smile. Little fucker was a thorn on my ass most days. That didn't mean I couldn't be one on his. I was pulling his thread by putting him in an uncomfortable position and I'm satisfied with that.

"Whatever, man. I don't. You know she's like a little sister to me."

"Uh-uh. Whatever you say."

"Did you take down the video or not?"

I press one last key on the keyboard and lean back against my chair. "I just did. Now, let's circle back to you and Adelei—"

"Like I said. She's like a sister to me. Don't get all worked up when you should be worried about your brother."

I knit my brows. "What about Julian?" God knows he's the overbearing one compared to Elio.

"He's in Chicago." He senses my apprehension through my silence. "Oh, s**t. I guess you didn't know."

Dane always had a comeback. You can throw him into a blender but he'll always have the last word.

"Bet you also didn't know he'll be waiting for you in your hotel room tonight. Good luck," was Dane's last word, humor dripping from his tongue, before he hangs up.

Somehow, I'm feeling more on the edge than I did last night.

"Janessa! Add a shot of tequila in my cup, will you?"

"Bite my ass, Pavlov," she shouts back. I slump in my chair.

It takes all in me not to purchase a glock and put a bullet between my eyes right before sundown.