Page 40 of Ruin
I keep an easy smile on my face that I hope reads as pleasant, like Gi said, and sit down, gesturing to his chair. “Please. Sit. No reason to let good wine go to waste.”
He glances at the bottle and grimaces. I’m not sure what that means, but Giovanna was right about the wine making an impression. I pour some into his glass and some into mine. Neither of us touches it.
“Mr. Demonio, I don’t want to waste your time or mine. I simply requested an interview with you to let you know personally that we will not be accepting your application to Columbia Law.”
I blink. I’m grateful that he’s not making it hard to guess his feelings, but he’s aggressive, and Giovanna told me that overt aggression isn’t appropriate in these situations.
“That surprises me, Dean. I have a 4.0 and a double major in public policy and economics from Columbia. I’ve done internships and volunteer work at the law center on campus, and I was assured that I was the exact candidate that the AILE program is looking for.” The AILE program is Columbia’s program that allows me to complete my undergraduate and JD work within six years at most. I intend to cut that time in half.
“I’ve read your application, Mr. Demonio. We don’t generally accept seniors into the program.”
“I’m only a senior because I’m finishing my Bachelor’s in two years. I’m ready to start the JD program in the fall, and if you’d allow me to take the exams for the first-year classes, you’ll see that I’m ready for the second year right now.”
Dean Staunton furrows his brow. “Yes, I read that you completed the coursework quickly, but you are 22, are you not?”
I give him a curt nod. It’s a question he has the answer to already, so I know he’s leading. I do this when I’m extracting information from people, setting up a trap.
“So what were you doing with your time during the other two years that your peers were in school?”
He’s taunting me with his tone, the way he uncrosses and recrosses his legs and brushes invisible lint off his suit.
“Working,” I say simply.
“Working,” he repeats slowly. “Doing what?”
“I work with my family, Dean.”
His eyes spark like the trap just snapped shut around my neck, and discomfort starts to rise in my gut. The kind of feeling that makes me either want to bring my knife into the discussion or disconnect, leave my body, wait for it to be over.
But I fight through it and keep my eyes steadily on his, like Gi told me to do. Rule number one.
“Yes,” he says smugly. “Which begs the question: are you interested in law school so you can defend your father when he inevitably faces a RICO trial?”
I sit back, assessing him. “Do you know my father, Dean Staunton?”
He glares at me. “I do not,” he asserts icily.
“Then you don’t know that just because I work with myfamily it does not mean that I am like my family.”
He waves away my statement. “Regardless, the fact remains that the optics are… not good. At Columbia, we hold our students to a certain standard. We like our future attorneys to stand on the platform provided by Columbia and shine. You, unfortunately, will always stand in the shadow of your name, and if you were to go to Columbia, our organization would be obscured by that shadow as well.”
“I already attend Columbia, Dean.”
“You do, but I am not in charge of the undergraduate school. I am in charge of the law school, and there is a required standard of integrity.”
“Are you questioning my integrity?” It comes out as a growl, and while I immediately feel like I crossed a line, it has the satisfying effect of making him lean his shoulders back in his chair.
Dean Staunton regards me haughtily. “This is not a negotiation, Mr. Demonio.”
What did Giovanna tell me to do? Smile pleasantly. My face has forgotten how to do that, though, and it takes me a second to remember. My phone buzzes with a text, but I ignore it.
“You’re right. It’s a problem-solving session. And I’m a problem solver.”
He raises an eyebrow and adjusts his jacket. “Youarethe problem, Mr. Demonio, something you are not capable of solving unless you become someone else.”
“The way I see it,youare the problem, Dean Staunton, and that I can solve.”
Staunton pales but doesn’t flinch. “That sounded like a threat.”
