Look who’s finally becoming an adult.
I decided that Lucas and I were long overdue for a chat about what the hell was going on, and I’d be sure to offer my opinion that he should fire Colson simply for being a dick.
When I wasn’t in the middle of a knee-jerk reaction, I could think more clearly. I didn’t believe Lucas was trying to set me up as his mistress. He’d made no bones about the fact that he expected me to fuck him for free.
This leap of faith might come back to bite me in the ass, but I was going to take it anyway.
I STARED AT THE E-MAIL from my secretary. It was the third of its kind relating a phone message from Judge Harold Noble, wanting to know when I was going to get off my ass and start courting his daughter. Courting. Was that a Southern thing?
We’d been out once, to a single society function where Valentina had proven she was charming, smart, and a perfectly pedigreed companion. She’d reminded me of Vanessa Frost—or at least the woman I’d thought Vanessa Frost was. I’d subsequently been proven wrong. Maybe I was wrong about Valentina as well.
Objectively, dating Valentina would be a good business move, and my interest had been marginally piqued—after all, she was a black-haired, gray-eyed stunner. But I had Yve in my bed, and thoughts of any other woman paled sharply in comparison.
Yve, who came from a long line of mistresses . . . It was still hard to believe, but then again, this was New Orleans. Stranger family traditions had to exist.
She was not a good business move. Everything I’d done since I was eighteen years old had been to build my empire—and I’d been ruthless about it. Sacrifices were made, both people and relationships, all for the good of the company. There was no upside to me being with Yve except for my own goddamn personal satisfaction, which I rarely indulged.
And now it seemed I was indulging myself on both business and personal fronts. My pet project that had been slated to earn billions was morphing into a resource suck unless I gave in to Haines; without his support, no one would touch it. And then there was Yve.
I was losing my edge. I clicked on the e-mail from my secretary again. I’d never lost my edge before. And getting it back would mean both giving in to Haines and calling Valentina.
My desk phone rang, and I picked it up. “Titan.”
“Hell of a greeting, Titan. I think it’s time you and I had another talk.”
The man had eerie timing, given my thoughts just now.
Haines continued. “You don’t want to agree to an open-ended favor? Well, I’ve got a real specific one that I hear you might be able to help me with, at least if the gossips have it right.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Something that needs discussing in person. Meet me this evening. Seven o’clock.” Haines rattled off an address I wasn’t familiar with, but it couldn’t be far. “If you don’t show, I’ll know you’re not serious about making this happen.”
“Guess we’ll see then,” I said, and hung up without warning.
I really, really hated politicians, and I hated ultimatums even more. Curiosity and distaste filled me in equal measure. Whatever he was going to ask for, I had a feeling it wouldn’t be good.
But what wouldn’t I do to prove my father wrong? I guess we’d see.
“HEY!” JP GREETED ME AS I returned to Dirty Dog with lunch for the two of us. Jerome had plans to meet an old military buddy, and had tried to cancel due to babysitting duties, but I hadn’t let him. JP and I would be fine for a couple of hours on our own.
And we were. I’d gone up the street to our favorite café because I wasn’t letting Colson put me off my appetite. I wouldn’t give him that much power.
“Someone just dropped off a flyer for a super-exclusive estate sale tonight.” She grabbed a neon-green piece of paper off the counter and held it out.
Excitement prickling through me, I crossed the store and plucked it from her hand. My giddiness grew as I read through the description.
Dozens of well-cared-for vintage pieces by a who’s-who list of designers—jewelry, shoes, handbags, and clothes. I skimmed over the part about furniture, antique cars, guns, and the rest, then reread the top part. This had the makings of a jackpot, one I desperately needed to fill my dwindling inventory.
I didn’t recognize the street name, so I pulled out my phone and Googled it. It was outside of town about twenty minutes, and the map showed an area of plantation-style homes that looked expensive. Good sign.
The preview for wholesale buyers was tonight from seven to nine, and it opened to the public tomorrow morning at eight.
With a smile on my face, I texted Lucas.