Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

V alerio

"What in God's name are you doing here on a Saturday?" Gage asked as I strolled into the outer office.

"You forget I used to frequent the halls every Saturday."

"You meant haunt them, leaving notes and memos so the employees would walk in and find them. Do you know how many complaints I used to get?" He thoroughly enjoyed making fun of me. Like my much younger half-brother, the guy was formidable in the business world, and the women in our clubs flocked to him as well.

I couldn't count how many times he'd been propositioned with big dollars to become either a dominant or a submissive for an illustrious guest.

He'd laughed it off.

We had one rule for our little wealthy trio.

No touching the merchandise under any circumstances.

"Very funny. I'm here to finally take a glance at the latest Progressive Media financials."

He scratched the two-day stubble on his jaw. "Don't you have not one but three top-dollar computer systems at your house?"

"Yes, but I hate bringing business home with me."

Correction. I refused to bring our father's business home with me.

"Dare I ask what you do with those high-dollar computer systems?" His grin was huge.

"Indulge in delicious porn." We both burst into laughter. "What are you doing here?"

"It's my turn to head to the islands, man. Favor for Braxton." He was especially good at grasping an island accent, which he often used with the ladies. "I thought I'd get a head start and maybe leave today. I heard we might have some trouble with one of our clients in St. Martin."

"Do I want to know?"

"You do not," my brother said.

"Fine. Have a good trip. Meanwhile, I'll be suffering being forced to have lunch with Pops at the country club of all places." I heard an incoming text and fought a huge grin. If I'd be forced to admit to God and a mirror, I'd spent way too much time thinking about the mystery girl during the night, including masturbating to rather lurid thoughts. I'd dared text her before walking into the office because I had no willpower.

And she'd managed to find a way to brighten my mood.

"Ugh, bro. You're in trouble with Dad. I heard about the article. Just for the record. I don't think you're skanky. You're too old."

"He can get over himself and fuck off."

"Maybe you can figure out what is really going on," he suggested. "He's not the kind of man to give a shit about some asshole reporter."

I shook my head. "I don't know about that. Dad has been very secretive as of late. My guess is the article pushed him off some imaginary ledge." And I'd been purposely AWOL.

Just reading her reply took the sting out of being required, as my dad had said on the phone bright and early at six this morning.

Unknown: Well, I'm covered in icing if that has any interest to you.

Me: You do know how to tempt a man.

Unknown: Why yes, yes, I do.

Me: I think it's time we created names for each other. Don't you?

Unknown: Good idea. Who are you?

I had to think about something sinfully fun.

Me: The Lone Ranger. And you?

Unknown: Cupcake. That will work

"Cupcake?" I asked out loud.

"What?" Gage laughed as he walked closer.

When she added little fire emojis across the screen, I couldn't help myself. I found the devil grinning wildly emoji and popped two on. When in God's name had I ever resorted to an emoji on a text?

"Oh, just a game someone is playing with me," I answered.

"Sounds devious. A girl?"

I scratched my head, laughing. "I think so. She said she had icing all over her this morning."

He coughed, even slapping his hand on his chest. "What? When did this start?"

"Last night. Out of the blue."

"Ooh-la-la. What's her name?"

"Cupcake." I liked that very much in truth. No real names, no real descriptions at this point. I wasn't the rich and savvy catch every mother wanted their daughter to marry. I was just a regular guy. I must have had a bewildered or sexual expression on my face given the look my brother was giving me.

"You like this girl and you don't know her real name?"

Shrugging, I shoved my phone into my jacket pocket. I'd almost worn ugly board shorts and a Hawaiian polo just to piss Dad off. The silly club was old-fashioned enough it still had a dress code. "Let's just say I explored not one but two five-knuckle shuffles last night and they were hot as fuck."

"Let's just hope when you meet her you can say the same thing about her."

"Who says I intend on meeting her? There is something very sexy about a clandestine and very mysterious experience with a woman."

"Sure. You're the man who once shouted to a reporter you were the kind of man who took what he wanted. I'll give you three days tops and you'll insist on meeting her."

"You might be surprised."

"Only if you win the bet," Gage said as he shut his briefcase, yanking it off his assistant's desk and heading toward the exit.

"We're betting now?"

"You bet."

I had to laugh. He was likely right. What did I have to lose in meeting her?

I wasn't into melodramatics and there were a hell of a lot of things I would enjoy more than spending a dreadful lunch with my father at his stodgy club. However, even at my age I couldn't ignore him forever. He had a way of getting under my skin.

Like toxin.

As I strode into the dining facility, I felt even more disgruntled than usual. I felt an ultimatum coming on. Before entering my father's favorite dining area, I pulled out my phone once again.

Me: What flavor icing?

I was surprised when she answered quickly. I'd even added her number to my contact list using Cupcake.

Cupcake: What flavors do you like, Lone Ranger?

Me: Anything wickedly delicious.

Cupcake: I'm still covered in four different flavors. All of them are wicked.

Me: Maybe I should help you by licking them off.

Cupcake: Down, big boy. Down…

Me: I need a picture to know you're telling me the truth.

Cupcake: That will only happen if you're a very good boy. Can you be a good boy, Lone Ranger?

Me: Oh, trust me. I can be very good indeed.

I snickered from the thought. Why was it a stranger had managed to slip so tidily under my skin when I didn't even know what she looked like?

I'd be damned if she didn't quickly and easily find a whip emoji. I hadn't even known they existed.

I was still laughing as I headed into the dining room, quickly noticing the area was filled with old white-haired guys. While the two of my brothers and I had been inducted into membership at early ages, I made a mental note to myself to terminate the yearly contract when I returned home.

My father wasn't laughing, instead staring at me as I approached. I quickly slid into my seat, forced to lift my arms so the way too young waitress could place my cloth napkin on my lap.

As if I couldn't do it myself.

Still, the action delayed my required chat with dear old Dad.

Almost immediately, a scotch was placed in front of me at my father's instructions. When the two wait staff members finally floated away, I leaned over the table. "I guess our conversation is serious if I'm drinking scotch for lunch on a Saturday."

We'd had a tumultuous relationship since I'd been yanked from my mother's womb, but over the years, it had grown caustic.

"Yes, son. It is. I hate that I require your attention but since you refuse to return my calls, I felt I had no other choice."

I wasn't in the mood to allow the man to goad me. "Get to the point."

"The point is that you have a decision to make."

As I shifted the thick tumbler glass back and forth, I studied his face. He was more tense than usual. However, he was dressed in golfing attire, the only other acceptable form of clothing allowed in the dining areas. "And what would that be?"

"I've asked you repeatedly to spend more time at the office working in your capacity as vice president and chief operations officer, yet you refuse."

"If I seem to remember, it was supposed to be in name only. You are aware I never cared about your media productions firm."

"Painfully aware, but as firstborn, you are required to follow in my footsteps."

I wanted to laugh in the man's face. He'd always acted as if there was some unknown rule predicating his ridiculous tactics. "I have no intention of it."

"No? Well, I guess I'll pass on the entire business to Braxton instead. Of course, that will mean you'll need to give up your interest in the company, your stocks, and of course, your bonus every year. However, if you agree to my terms, you will have the full rein of the company within eighteen months and quite frankly, you can do with the corporation what you want."

Why did my father feel the need to play games? His tactics were getting old. I sat back in my seat, swirling my drink before taking a sip. "First of all, Pops, I have two thriving businesses already. And second, I know you too well. You have no intention of simply handing me over your billion-dollar firm."

"Don't be silly, boy. You're forty-two years old and you've yet to take life seriously. While I understand you had an excuse at an early age to act as if rules didn't apply to you, you've been healthy for a very long time and you need to stop taking risks."

What the fuck risks was he talking about? It had been years since I'd indulged in all the risky adventures I used to love. I missed them but I was far too busy.

"This is all about the bad actors and the reporter, yes?"

He took a sip of his drink. I'll be damned if his hand wasn't shaking. "Pissant. This has to do with our reputation."

Uh-huh.

"I'm curious, Pops. Have you had any threats lately?"

He laughed but almost immediately glanced away. "It wouldn't be a day in our world without being threatened. You know that better than almost anyone."

Yeah, he was right. Threats weren't limited to criminals or politicians we highlighted either. Hell, my father had experienced a famous actress stalking him, even wielding a knife like she was playing out some movie role for a femme fatale.

Now she was serving five to fifteen instead of soaking up Hollywood.

"What is it you really want? I do have a lot of work to do."

"Fine. You haven't been in a serious relationship," he continued. "You run around San Diego acting like a spoiled playboy, even making scenes inside restaurants and clubs."

Why in God's name was he bringing up my behavior from well over a decade before if not because of the article? It had unnerved him. Very odd. "Yeah, Pops. I almost died. For four years I had a special room at the hospital. You even had it painted purple, my favorite color at the time. Not that you knew or gave a damn. You're right in that when I was supposedly cured, I wanted to live my life to the fullest but that was fucking years ago."

"Don't raise your voice to me."

"I'll ask one last time. What do you want, Dad? It's a Saturday. I have things to do."

"What I want is for you to settle down, to act like a grown and responsible man so when I leave the company to you to handle, the respect of my colleagues will continue."

"As well as asshole reporters. And what does that involve, not being seen at one of two very successful resorts?" I didn't mind digging a stake into his gut every once in a while. He'd been red-faced and my brothers and I had been certain he was going to have a heart attack the moment we'd told him about the Royal Players Club. He'd forbidden us from talking about it among his friends.

Secretly, I'd already known then he had a membership to one of the local kink clubs. Hell, half the men sitting in this room had been to one or both of my islands. I neglected to tell him that. I had a feeling his head would blow off.

He tossed his napkin onto the table, glaring at me with what appeared to be hate. "I'm going to give you an ultimatum. You need to get married within three months and clean up your act or I will dissolve the corporation, but not before I change my will. I think maybe I'll leave everything to charity."

I wouldn't care except the company was worth billions and he wasn't just talking about hurting my future. He was determined to take down my brothers' possibilities as well.

"This is all about me getting married?"

"And I don't mean a quickie overnight going to Las Vegas kind of marriage or a quick annulment. Your mother wants a huge church wedding with a lavish reception and she deserves that."

The way he pounded his fist on the table was a clear indication something else was going on. But I knew my father too well. He would never tell me the truth and I was weary of doing the same old dance.

"You'd really do that?"

He lifted his glass as if in a toast. "Unfortunately, you've pushed me into more ruthless tactics."

I could possibly fight my father in court, but it would be costly in more than one way. "Marriage? That's what it will take to get you off my back?"

"That and coming to work with me for one day a week until the transfer is made over to you completely. I don't think it's too much for a father to ask his son when preparing to turn over the most powerful media production firm in the entire country. Do you?"

The man knew he had me by the balls. My two brothers would likely never forgive me. How the hell was I going to find a fucking wife? It would need to be in name only and there would be a tightly woven prenup agreement that neither she nor her goons for attorneys could break.

And I was seriously considering this bullshit.

"So, I just find a girl off the streets. Right?"

"Not just any girl. Caldwell Michaels has a daughter."

Oh, for the love of God. "The owner of Task Force United?" A stupid name for a media firm. However, the owner had made inroads into our world, taking several advertisers over the years.

"I gotta go, Pops. I'll let you know." Not that I'd marry some enemy's daughter. Over my dead body.

"Don't take too long, son. I have a press conference already scheduled for Wednesday."

The bastard. He'd played me and he knew it.

I glared at him before I walked out. Money wasn't everything, especially if it meant being tied to someone for a full year.

As soon as I left the building, smashing my hand against the door, I couldn't help but yank out my phone.

And for the life of me, I couldn't answer why my cock was completely and totally aroused by such a simply yet seductive photograph.

She'd taken a picture of her leg with three long strings of colorful icing curling over her knee to her pointed and very pretty toes.

Fuck me.

Maybe I did need to meet this girl.