Page 118 of Escorting the Mogul

“I’ll miss you more.” With another kiss, followed by a smack on the ass, I sent Jenny on her way.

I picked up my phone again and was unsurprised and un-delighted to find several voicemails from my father. Each message escalated—he was furious that Ramos hadn’t delivered the approvals yet. Sighing, I called Ramos again.

He didn’t bother to say hello. “I know your old man’s pissed,” he said. “But the city inspector said the structural beams need more support. What do you want me to do? I can’t permit a building that might collapse—not unless you pay upfront. I already told you that. I’m not sure why this is stillmyproblem. I’m thinking the answer is a big, fat no.”

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll call him and let you know you’re leaning that way.” I was sure that wasn’t what Ramos wanted to hear. He was looking for a personal payday, but I wasn’t going to give it to him. That wasn’t how I did business.

Sighing, I called my father. “You better have some good news,” he barked.

“Ramos has conditions,” I said. “And I am not willing to meet them.”

“We don’t want conditions,” my father seethed.

“He wants to get paid. He wants us to buy the approvals,” I explained. “But he said there were existing structural integrity issues, so I said no way.”

“We can deal with the issues later,” my father spat. “Just do it.”

“No way,” I said. “If you want to get into a situation like that, you’ll have to do it yourself.”

“I can’t,” he seethed. “I’m directly involved in this thing, but you’re not. If something goes wrong, the project itself won’t be liable. You’re not connected to it, so we can’t get sued.”

“You’re putting this deal together, so if you want to take that risk, that’s on you. I’m out,” I said firmly.

“If we pay Ramos off and do this upfront, we can handle any structural issues later,” my father countered. “But we need this sorted out upfront so they’ll write the insurance policy, and my buyer can get his financing. Don’t you knowanythingabout how real estate works, you idiot?”

“Bye, Dad,” I said. “I’m not listening to your rant right now. I called you as a courtesy.”

“Don’t you dare hang up on me,” he spat. “Get Ramos in line for full approvals by the end of the day or you can kiss your inheritance goodbye. And then you can kiss your hooker all you want—because you’ll be dead to me.” He hung up.

I put my phone down and then stared into space.

Growing up, my father was always cold. He was a perfectionist, and if I did something he didn’t like—which was most of the time, as an unruly child and later, as a teenager—he called me out on it. Our relationship mostly consisted of himbeing disappointed in me and telling me so. When I got older, and I went to business school and started making connections of my own, he became more tolerant.

It was as if, all of a sudden, he realized I was a person. A person he could make use of. But when my usefulness ran out…

What do I care if he disinherits me?asked the voice in my head. I was my own man. I had plenty of money—billions, in fact.

So, I didn’t care about my inheritance. Not exactly. It was more the spitefulness of my father’s threat, the waste of it. He’d worked for years to build his empire. He’d sacrificed a lot, including his relationship with me. And now he was threatening to leave his billions to my enemies, including a hockey coach I’d fired and the Windsor sisters. It was such a ridiculous, impulsive, short-sighted threat that I couldn’t let it go. I had the nagging feeling that my mother would disapprove of this. She wouldn’t want me to walk away. She wouldn’t want my father’s years of sacrifice and the suffering we all did because of it to be for nothing.

Cooler heads needed to prevail. Just because I didn’t need my inheritance didn’t mean that I thought it was wise to divvy up my parents’ billions and dole it out to individuals who had no legitimate right to it. If my father threatened to give it all to charity, that would be one thing. But to people who meant less than nothing to our family? It was pointless to the brink of ridiculousness. It was nothing but spiteful.

I called my father back. “Dad—don’t hang up. Let’s talk this through. I know this isn’t what you wanted, but we can figure it out.”

“I’ve dealt with plenty of men like Ramos,” my father said. He still sounded angry, but at least he was calmer. “There’s only one way to deal with them, to pay them. We can figure the rest of it out afterward.”

“I don’t agree with you,” I said. “Paying Ramos off will only come back to bite us in the ass. If there’s something wrong with the building, it’ll come out someday. And I can’t have that on my record, not to mention my conscience.”

“Since when did you ever have a conscience?” My dad snorted. “You gave me your word that you would help me. Usually, you get deals done, son. That’s not happening. I’m starting to wonder if having this girl back is the problem. I’m wondering if this girl is the difference.”

“Leave Jenny out of it—she’s got nothing to do with this,” I said quickly. “We’re on vacation with our friends, celebrating their wedding. She’s not doing anything wrong.”

When he said nothing, I continued, “She came to me this morning and told me she feels guilty about taking me away from work. She said I should close my deal.”

“How interesting,” my father said. He suddenly sounded more upbeat. He also sounded… smug.

“Why is that interesting?” I asked.

“Why would she say something like that?” he asked. “Why would she feel guilty?”

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