George POV
The flight was interesting in the worst possible way. George found out quite quickly that he hated flying, but he was set on not letting his father get ahold knowledge. For some yet unknown reason, they were flying in a private plane. George knew that his family wasn't poor, but absolutely not rich enough to afford a private plane to Los Angeles.
Shortly after the start, George wanted answers. The anger he felt towards his father hadn't faltered, but tried to keep it contained for the sake of getting answers.
"Where's mom?" Breaking the slightly awkward silence.
His father sat on the opposite side of George, hands clasped together with elbows resting on his knees. The icy blue eyes showed no signs of emotions as they met George's "I told you, she's nowhere to be found. No note, no trace, nothing."
"And what? Mom leaving made you realize that you have a son and decided to kidnap him and move him to a different country?" George tried to bite back the anger. Though, it showed itself to be more difficult than anticipated.
"Let's put it like this, if I'd it my way, we would have moved a long time ago. It would've benefitted my business. But your mother refused. She knew I'd involve you sooner or later and didn't like it."
"If we ignore the fact that both of you practically ignore me for seventeen fucking years. In what world do you the right to force me into some shady-ass company?" George spat. His father was getting noticeable more annoyed.
"Would you've liked it more if I left you like your mother? Left you in that dungeon with society's other outcasts? Because I promise you if I would've left you there, one day that knife to your throat would've been because you wanted out of the hell you were stuck in, and not because you wanted fucking attention!" His father's was low and George doubted that he could push the situation much more without consequences.
Silence took its rightful place again. Would he rather have been left behind to survive on his own? He probably could've kept gambling and survived on that for a while. However, they didn't live in the biggest area and soon people would've caught up on his act.
Unsure of what to answer, George decided to ask another question which had been awoken.
"And what exactly is it that you do?"
"Oh, that I will show you when we arrive." His dad said with a mischievous expression on his face.
------------------------
The plane landed in Los Angeles after ten painful hours. George was surprised by the contrast in temperature from the UK. Heat hit his face, and despite it being October it felt like he'd travelled back in time and re-entered summer again. They left the airport in a cab that took them to a beautiful looking house that must've been newly renovated. It was spacious, with big windows allowing a lot of natural light to shine through.
Did his father really own a house in LA? George thought as they entered the house. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought that his father could afford a house in Los Angeles. Sure, his father definitely radiated power, especially now he was wearing a suit. But it was also the first time that George had ever seen him in a suit, he usually dressed casually in like jeans and a shirt.
Although, after the day that had followed, did he actually know anything about his parents?
Curiosity got the best of him and he finally caved in to his questions. "Do you own this house, like do you live here?"
"Yes and from now on, so do you." Was the answer he received.
George had nearly forgotten about the two other men that had followed them.
"What about them?" Nodding his head against the two men who stood on the opposite side of the door.
"Them? No, they're just my bodyguards." That caught George a little of guard, he had kind of assumed that they were colleges.
"What kind of work requires bodyguards and pays well enough for a house in LA?"
His father locked eyes with him before answering. "A job where you make a lot of enemies."
Nervosity slowly crept up along George's spine. No wonder his mom didn't want him to get involved. Still, this was the first time that he'd been given any form of insight into his father's life. And as much as he hated to admit it, it was something he had been wanting. To actually get to know the people who he was supposed to call parents. Well, in this case, at least one of them.
Still, he couldn't understand his place in the equation.
"But I'm just seventeen, why would you involve me in your work?"
"Because with a job where you make a lot of enemies, it's just a matter of time before you'll need someone to take your place." The unspoken words hung heavy between them; before you get killed. "And I know that there's no better candidate than you."
Unsure on how to respond to the compliment, especially because it came from his very closed off father, George continued with the questions.
"So, what do you want me to do? Follow you around at work all day?"
"I want you to go to school, get some friends, maybe get a hobby. Try to live a "normal" life. And as time passes, I'll introduce you to my world. Though I think you gonna realize that you're already quite familiar with parts of it, on a smaller scale."
He was still confused about the turn his life had taken, but concluded that this could actually be a way to start fresh. So, he didn't remark much about what his father just had told him. Although one last question still irked him.
Because although he hadn't forgiven his father, he still felt like this might be a chance to actually build some sort of connection to him and strangely enough, he felt like he didn't want to disappoint him.
"Dad, you know I don't work well in a school environment? My grades will probably be shit."
To which his father just rolled his eyes.
"I don't care about your grades or how you perform in school, it's merely for the sake of giving you something to do and who knows, you might actually find out that you do in fact enjoy some classes. Certain subjects are mandatory, but I've made sure to base your studies mostly around math." His father paused and quirked an eyebrow at George, probably to see if he would object. But George stayed quiet, so his father continued. "But enough about that for tonight, we'll talk more tomorrow. Your room is upstairs to the right."
George turned around, but was interrupted by his father before he could leave.
"Oh George, make sure to keep your knives with you wherever you go."
"But isn't that illegal in school environments?"
"Well, what people don't know won't kill them." And George could have sworn he saw a slight hint of humor in his father's eyes otherwise cold eyes.