Sam hadn’t been concerned about what worried me since I was fourteen.
“So, what do you do again?” She brushed her hair out of her eyes.
Why’d I think it was cuter than hell when she did that?
I picked a career that wasn’t really a lie but that would call to her greedy instincts. “I’m in sales.”
She brightened. “Really? Like what?”
My grin turned a little smug. Knew she’d take the bait. “Mergers and acquisitions, mostly. Nothing exciting, really. I just finished the purchase of some property in New York.”
Disgust flickered through her features.
Not the reaction I’d been expecting. “That bad?”
“Oh no. Sorry.” She gave me a sheepish grin. “At work today, one of my customers told me about how the guy who’s putting me out of business just purchased a possible landmark and remodeled it, destroying any historical value it might’ve had.”
I ground my teeth. Landmark my ass. That old hotel had been trash. There’d been so much human and rat waste inside, my crews had worn hazard suits when gutting it. I’d ask if she had read any real data on the deal or the building, but then she might actually look it up and see my picture.
“The guy sounds better and better.” I couldn’t help the hard note in my voice, but from her agreement, she interpreted it as outrage about the guy who’s putting her out of business.
“Right? I can’t believe he’d be so different from his dad.”
I fought the angry set of my mouth into a neutral position. I wasn’t supposed to know anything about this. I wanted to ask how I was so much different than Sam. It wasn’t like people handed realty over to the man. Sam had played just as dirty in business as he had in Wes’s personal life.
There, we’d been alike. As far as looks went, we couldn’t have been more opposite. Sam had been shorter than me by two inches, with dusty blond hair before it’d gone gray. He’d had a stocky build, not the lean frame I assumed came from my mom.
“You knew his dad?”
Sadness lit her eyes. “He was the Sam I mentioned that passed away.” She chuckled. “When I leased the property, I’d never met him, but I got a kick out of his assistant.”
Yeah, Franklin was a kick all right. If you called disapproving glances every time I handed him an order a good time.
“Then I went to TC Comic-Con and I wore my usual Mara Jade costume—my mom named me after Luke Skywalker’s wife—and this robust man dressed as,” her laugh tinkled around me like crystals, “not a Starfleet captain, but an admiral. Can you believe it? I thought, here’s a guy who thinks outside of the box. Anyway, he asked me about my costume. When I told him I was named after the Star Wars character, he realized I was the one who’d just leased his storefront and we chatted all night.”
Delight ran across her face and I could only stare. My heart slammed into my feet. Rage churned and threatened to reject the water I sipped.
My dad had used to take me to that comic book convention. Another one of the traditions that’d been lost in the divorce. Had Sam attended to pick up women half his age?
She unfolded her napkin and refolded it, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. “He started coming into my store after that and we would get to talking.” She looked up at the ceiling like she was fighting the spill of tears. “He was such a mentor.”
I was about to snidely inquire how an old man mentored a pretty young lady, but the spell was broken when the server delivered our meals.
Mara let out a groan that went straight to my cock. “I’m starving. This looks delicious.”
My manhood completely forgot the girl had been gushing about my father. All it cared about were the memories of how good she’d promised to be in bed. Or in the car.
We ate and chatted. I’d been planning to wait until she was finished before asking her more about the store, but my phone vibrated.
I pulled it out and saw it was Franklin. What the hell? If there were problems at my club, it’d be my own assistant, Helen, calling. Franklin only handled Robson Industries, what I’d inherited from Sam.
“I have to take this.” I slid out of the booth and aimed for the front of the restaurant, where the din was lower. “What’s going on?”
“Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Robson.” Franklin treated me the same as Sam, except I heard the undercurrents of a scowl. “I’m afraid there’s a protest on the property in NYC. Some of the construction equipment has been vandalized.”
“Are we talking spray paint or damage?”
“Both, sir. Police are reporting they’re still there, camping out on the property.”
“Arrest them all. Trespassing and defacing private property.”
Franklin hesitated. “Yes, Mr. Robson.”
There it was. The censure Franklin never failed to give.
“What, Franklin?” I bit the words out. Why did I keep the guy on, and in such a high position? Yes, I could trust him. Franklin knew his way around the business and every facet of Sam’s old empire.
It couldn’t be sentimentality.
“While you’d be within your rights, I don’t think such an abrupt action will sit well with the citizens of NYC that care about the history of the building.”
“Its history was full of piss and vomit and empty needles. Even the rats decided to find a better place to live.”
“None of them are arguing that it could’ve been condemned. They fear that it’s a sign of the future. You come in and build, possibly buy more property, or someone else will. They can barely afford to live in the neighborhood now. If that happens, they fear not just losing the meaning behind their home, but being the homeless ones roaming from abandoned building to abandoned building.”
Well, the
