Chapter 28

Ira

"I've solved our funding discrepancy!"

I let my father pour me a scotch before settling back into my leather chair. He's invited me out to his favorite club. A real good ol' boys abode where cigar smoke is thick and all the waiters wear bowties. We're here in the corner of a lounge, a few other men in their finest suits laughing it up when it comes to wives, daughters, and mistresses. My father is the only one bringing up business, and since he's so happy it must be public knowledge.

"Oh?" The scotch isn't my favorite, but I let it cleanse my throat. "And where are you picking up an extra fifteen million dollars?"

Chuckling, my father swings one leg over the other and raises his eyebrows in that know-how way. He's done that my whole life. When he knows something that I don't or is about to lay on something I would have never thought of. "Let's say our pal Ravenwood has come through for us as our final investor."

Now I raise my brows, and it's not because I'm about to impart some knowledge to my father. Far from it. If anything, I'm a tad concerned. "Xan Ravenwood from Black Crow Pharmaceuticals?"

"That's the one."

"Surprised you're getting in bed with that guy."

"Anyone who is anyone is getting into bed with Ravenwood. What? The only other alternative was Jacqueline Love, and nobody will touch her money for at least a year until the whole to-do with the Warners dies down. We can't risk offending them."

"No. We can't." My father's courting of Helen Warner played out, and the woman threw down five million for The Ace. She'll probably want the Honeymoon Suite for her and the bride. "Still, a pharmaceutical man?"

"Ravenwood is about real estate on the side. He owns half of the Pacific Northwest now."

"So I've heard. He's also pissing people off in Portland because most of his buying leads to some of the fastest gentrification this country has ever seen."

"Kid, that's Portland. It's three thousand miles away. People around here don't give a rat's ass about West Coast real estate unless they have a hand in it. Besides, that whole presentation you gave was all about how we're not further gentrifying the old district. I don't know what you have against this. Ravenwood is known for being right in line with your lifestyle. In fact, he runs the most exclusive club on the West Coast."

I stiffen. My father knows about my "lifestyle" insofar as people talk about seeing me at Midnight, and he's met a few of my past girlfriends when I needed a date for dinner. Plus, my mother knows everything, because she's a nosy woman who is always up in my love life. When she's drunk, she's liable to tell my father everything about me. It's a problem I ignore.

Until now.

"What Xan Ravenwood does in his private time doesn't concern me, especially three thousand miles away, as you say." I drink more of the scotch to ease my nerves. "What does concern me is whether or not we want to be attached to a man like that."

"It doesn't matter, kid, it's been done. It was the only way we could pay the Anderssens."

In the days since we last negotiated, the Anderssens presented a final offer of twenty-five million. Still way above the worth of The Ace, but they were firm that they would not come down any farther, no matter how much my father presented the facts. They wouldn't even listen to me, and they like me. They must need that money for something.

On the subject of money, no matter how we crunched the numbers, nobody could come up with millions more. Our top budget was twenty. My father's been busy wrestling up the extra, and apparently, he found it in a new friend named Xan Ravenwood.

"Soon enough we will be the proud owners of The Ace. Then the real work begins." My father tops off his drink with a smile. "That reminds me, Ira, we need to set up a crew for you on the administrative end. Your assistant won't be enough."

Ah, yes. My father is foisting all the real work on me. Managing the contractors, handling the money, dealing with the press… all the joys that come from a high-profile remodel. I haven't been sweating it because I know what needs to be done, but he's right, it's a lot of work for me to handle with only Vivian to count on. Yet if my father thinks I'm going to have a "team" of talking heads, he's got another think coming.

"There's only one person I want to work with," I say. "I want Kathleen."

He eyes me with what can only be described as curiosity. Maybe a little bemusement. "Allen? Well, sure, but… doesn't she have her own shit to worry about right now?"

"I don't doubt she's looking for a new project to tie her over until they let her work on the museum. A school. A library. Some homeless shelter." I match my father's chuckle, just to let him know we're on the same page. "That woman loves to give if you know what I mean."

Our eyes meet in the darkness of the room. Yes, Father, read into that all you want. You see me as your son, anyway, so let's have a little "boy's" talk. This is the closest I've come to giving away what's happening between Kathleen and me, anyway. For good reason. This is to my advantage.

My father speaks two languages. Money and women. Money we both understand. Women are another matter. This is the man who married a hot young thing when he knocked her up, divorced her after their twentieth anniversary, and then occasionally hooked up with her once in a while because hey, they're still in love! Never let it be said the Mathisons were level-headed individuals. My parents make me look like a saint with their shit together, and my therapist will tell you I'm a "mess and three-quarters."

"So… you and Kathleen Allen." My father goes from twisting his mouth in surprise to settling in his chair, laughing. "That woman's a real hothead, I hear. Gonna keep her in line?"

I want to scoff at his choice of words, but I have to play his game. Especially if I'm to get what I want. "You could say that. I only need her. Well, her and the assistant she'll bring. Of course, she'll demand a higher price tag than five lackeys put together, but she's smart and knows what she's doing. She's worth those five toadies and then some."

"Uh-huh. Does her father know about this? You know he and I go back…"

"I haven't talked to the man since the presentation." The one where I fucked his daughter in an empty room. "Anything you're inferring needs to be kept quiet. Including from Mom."

"I don't tell that woman nothing, kid. She doesn't give me a chance with all her babbling." He sounds like he's whining, but he can't hide the smile on his face. Yup. Still smitten. Divorced, but smitten. In a twisted way, it's adorable. "All right. If it's Kathleen you want, you can have her. And her assistant, but I'm assuming that's on her payroll."

"Simple case of trickle-down economics."

"Indeed."

We clink our glasses together. Dad thinks he's being coy with that look as he says, "The Allens are a good match in more ways than one. You know, Silas and I used to joke about you two getting married when his girl was born. ‘Course, that was before all the… nonsense with the… ah, well, you know what I mean."

I try not to grimace at my father's ability to make my gender more awkward than it has to be. He's the only one who acts like this around me, so I let it slide. I mean, he's trying. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Nothing's happening."

"You're a good-looking kid, she's a beautiful woman…"

"We don't have much in common outside of that."

"Yet here you are, asking my permission to hire her. She may be smart at this sort of thing, but it's no coincidence that you would get to spend a lot of time with her."

Before I can respond, my father opens his mouth again.

"Use that time well, kid."

I keep a stern eye on him as I finish my drink. I don't know what he's implying, but everything he's said today has sounded dodgy as hell. It's going to be a long project.

Assuming Kathleen says yes to working with me. I haven't even asked yet!