Elliot Enterprises was thriving because of my interaction and direction. Not his. If we were still following his lead, we’d be hunting down companies to dismantle for no other reason than to keep our profits high and our investors happy.
I’d once found joy in ripping prominent firms apart. While I’d told no one in my life, it had been a long time since I’d found satisfaction in doing so. In fact, I’d felt empty inside. Even now with the possibilities of building luxurious resorts, I’d realized only recently I could honestly not care less.
Why had I suddenly experienced such disdain for my career and the profession that had made me a billionaire?
The answer was so easy it was blinding.
Vanessa.
Only a few days with her and I’d begun to question everything in my life. She was the real deal, a decent human being and a dynamite businesswoman, managing to keep her integrity with all things.
Her love of people and truth was outstanding.
Her challenging me every other minute of the day had been amusing at first, annoying as the hours had drifted by, and now was awakening.
However, as she’d so aptly put it, I doubted changing colors was in my repertoire.
That didn’t mean I’d sit back and take the personal betrayal I felt. Not a fucking chance.
I’d hunted down my father, who was currently on the golf course. He’d added dissension in the office and my life. Now he was patting himself on the back, partaking in the spoils of war.
That’s what he’d always called the business. I’d laughed.
Not any longer.
With Jonathan Blair’s threat, I’d need to remain alert, perfecting how I handled the overseas clients. He was known for his cutthroat tactics.
So was I.
Why did it feel as if I’d need to make a choice in winning or losing?
And not necessarily just in business.
I’d taken a golf cart, rolling around the perfectly green hills of the luxurious course, every blade of grass cut to the same height. I’d never enjoyed the sport, something else my father had determined I was inadequate at. I simply didn’t give a shit about chumming it up with other moguls, enjoying the stories of tearing apart corporations.
Of course business wasn’t their only topic of discussion. They enjoyed glorifying the time and money spent on mistresses. Every asshole in my father’s special ‘club’ had one. Whether or not my mother knew or cared I’d never asked. It was a subject not to be discussed in the family household.
I might be considered a fucking playboy, but deep down inside, I was a one-woman man.
After rounding a bend, I noticed my father’s group just up ahead. I was already in a piss-poor mood, the ache behind my eyes increasing with every passing minute.
I was exhausted, enraged, and uncertain how I wanted to handle the man and his personal betrayal. I’d honored her wishes after the discovery the night before, driving us back to my home. Only her exhaustion had prevented her from leaving, heading back to her house and her life.
I’d felt that in my bones.
When I got home tonight, my guess was that I’d find she’d packed up, prepared to fight the contract. Would I fight her in court? I had no goddamn idea at this point. What I did know was that I wanted to find a way for her to believe me that I hadn’t lied to her.
I pulled the cart a few feet away from the two others. It was barely eleven in the morning on a weekday and all four were already pounding back Bloody Marys. I was shocked they hadn’t insisted on being provided a cart girl. Anyone selected for the dubious honor, if they could stand being pawed by four old, lecherous men, usually made a hefty sum for a few hours of work.
Maybe given her absence meant they were discussing big business.
Just something else to annoy me. I recognized the other three participants, one of whom had been hand-picked to serve on our board of directors.
The other two were ‘good buddies,’ a term coined by my father to indicate they greased each other’s palms. One was Ralph Jenkins, a high-ranking member of the land developmentdepartment who’d greenlit the project being developed with Andres Lopez. The other was Bob Moss, a civil court judge, who’d presided over three major lawsuits against Elliot Enterprises.
And of course, we’d won.
Why was it that while I’d once admired my father and his tactics, the thought now left a bad taste in my mouth?
