I worked late into the night but felt good about my research. Hell, it felt good to use my head. The one on my shoulders.
The following morning, I strolled through the lobby of the building in Midtown Manhattan. I had pulled some strings and was going to be meeting with some property lawyers. I needed to really understand what the Northwood property was worth in terms of mineral rights acquisition.
By the time I left the meeting, my head was spinning.
The numbers were staggering. They were sitting on a fortune, enough oil reserves to justify an offer that would blow Sylvie’s mind and set her entire family up for multiple lifetimes.
So would the truth, if she ever learned it.
If she knew I had every intention of buying the lodge out from under her family, flattening everything she loved, and turning it into an industrial drilling operation for Bancroft family gain? She would never forgive me.
Hell, she would probably try to kill me with her bare hands and I wouldn’t blame her.
She would lose everything that mattered to her. But maybe it would be a good thing in the long run. Maybe it would be the push she needed to see the world beyond Northwood. Australia might open her eyes to possibilities she’d been missing. Emmy would certainly be glad to have her best friend along for the adventure.
No matter how I tried to justify it to myself, I knew exactly how fucked up it was that I was continuing to push this deal forward. I’d caught feelings for the person who was going to get hurt the most by what I was about to do, and I was doing it anyway.
I was an ass. Always had been, always would be. Sylvie deserved better than me, and the sooner she figured that out, the better off she’d be.
I had spent the last twenty-four hours putting together the most comprehensive property analysis I’d ever created in my life. Property assessments, geological surveys, market analysis, legal precedents. All of it. I covered every angle. The folder sitting on my passenger seat was thick with documentation that would prove to my father I hadn’t been screwing around upstate. Well, not entirely.
The drive out to the Bancroft estate gave me time to rehearse my pitch. I knew exactly what my father would say the moment I walked through those doors. He would assume I’d been distracted by some woman, and technically he wouldn’t be wrong. But I’d also done the work—better work than I’d done on any deal in years.
The familiar wrought iron gates came into view. I felt that old tension settle between my shoulder blades. Coming home always felt like I was perpetually trying to prove myself worthy of the family name.
I pulled up the circular drive, noting that Isaac’s car was parked near the front entrance. Great. A family meeting. Nothing I loved more than having an audience for whatever lecture my father had planned.
The housekeeper greeted me at the door.
“Your father is waiting for you in his study,” she said, taking my coat. “Can I bring you anything?”
“No, thank you.”
I carried my laptop bag with the folder inside down the hall to the study. Dad was alone. Thank God because I wasn’t interested in having my brother offer his two cents. I loved him, but this was my thing.
“You’re back,” Dad said.
I sat down and opened the bag. “Miss me?”
“We’ll see,” he said, almost smiling. He was a real hard ass when it came to business. “What have you got for me on the Northwood deal?”
I put the folder on his desk. “It’s all there.”
He opened it and started to read. I leaned back, watching his expression. I loved my dad. Loved my whole family. But they were a lot to handle. A bunch of over-achievers. A few of my brothers could be a pain in the ass. I could say that because I lived with them. I was always one of the brothers that just kind of went along doing my own thing. I didn’t mess with the family businesses. They didn’t need me. I was just another voice with another opinion.
But this thing was mine whether I wanted it or not. Just a little proof I wasn’t a total screw-up. I didn’t want their jobs or tobe like them, but it did feel good to show that I could contribute when they needed me to.
“Excellent work, Kent,” Dad said. “This is exactly what we needed.”
He set the papers down and looked at me with something that might have been pride. “All that’s left is closing the deal with the Northwoods. I want this wrapped up by Christmas Eve. After that, the offer expires, and we’ll only go seventy-five percent on a second attempt.”
Christmas Eve. Less than three weeks away. Three weeks to convince Sylvie and her family to sign away everything they’d ever known.
“Understood,” I said, because what else was there to say?
“What’s your take on the situation?” he asked.
“My take?”
