“There are several properties listed under my name,” I said, “and several listed under shell companies I don’t recognize.”
“Are you thanking me for my investment in your future?” he asked, going on the offensive, and I knew I needed not to feint but to ignore the attack.
I laughed. “I should! The buildings downtown are good investments. I just want to better understand the portfolio.”
He nodded. “I’m glad you’re taking an interest in the business.” I hated the pathetic part of me that still wanted him to think I was worth something.
“Why the transfers? Why put them in my name instead of, say, a holding company?”
His eyes narrowed slightly, but his voice stayed pleasant. “Estate planning and to reduce my tax burden.”
Bullshit.He was hiding his assets and using my name so they couldn’t be taken away, or so they didn’t lead back to him and his criminal fucking empire.
“But you’re selling them.”
My father folded his napkin, placing it on the table beside him. “I am. I adjust our family’s real estate portfolio relatively frequently. I buy and sell your mother’s property for her too. Right now, I need capital for an opportunity.”
“What opportunity?”
His eyes flicked to Delaney, and I wondered if I’d pushed too far.
She smiled brightly and said, “I’ll ask the kitchen to bring out dessert in a few minutes,” as she pushed her chair back, subtly removing herself from the conversation and giving my father and I a moment of privacy.
My father’s expression softened. “She’s a good choice for you, son.”
I nodded. On paper, Delaney was perfect. And if I weren’t in love with three people who had no desire to fit into this world, Delaney would have made a perfect partnerfor an ambitious son of a billionaire determined to conquer the world.
Too bad I only wanted to take my father down, play hockey, and curl up with my partners at the end of a long day.
“She’s good people,” I said finally, “unlike her father.”
My father shrugged. “It’s business, nothing more.” As if he weren’t as corrupt as Nate Hartwell. He leaned back in his chair, studying my face. “Carter Industries needs to be positioned for the future, and that requires strategic investments.”
Code for bribes and political manipulation. That was why he was selling the buildings under his own name and not Carter Industries—keeping the business clean.
“The Russian situation,” I said carefully, watching his reaction. I wasn’t supposed to know about it. “That’s related?”
His smile widened with approval. “You’ve been paying attention.”
Fuck yes, I have. To end you, Father.
“It’s a personal disagreement,” he said, his tone dismissive. “He’s turned it into a business dispute and has spent considerable resources trying to damage Carter Industries through political channels.” He waved his hand as if swatting a fly. “The specifics don’t matter. What matters is containing the damage.”
“What’s the disagreement?” I pressed.
My father’s eyes sharpened, just for a second, before his expression smoothed again. “Doesn’t matter. Tantrums have consequences, and I refuse to indulge this one. Politics is a game like any other. You just need to know the right players.”
“And do we?”
“We’re meeting with Senator Reynolds tomorrow evening. He’ll be joining us for the Marauders game. He serves on the committee that oversees FCC appointments.”
My pulse kicked up, but I kept my face neutral. Senator James Reynolds, in his third term, had a reputation for being in every wealthy donor’s pocket. I guessed that included my father.
“He’s dirty,” I observed.
My father’s smile turned genuine, and my stomach twisted. “Reynolds is practical. He understands that government serves those who fund it. In particular, he’s interested in ensuring Carter Industries maintains its position as—” He stopped and tapped his fingers on the table. “As a market leader.”
“For a price.”
