Page 22 of Selfie

“By?” Dad raises a quizzical brow.

Maybe I should admit I spent some time with a pretty woman at a bar. It’d make my dad happy to know I’m trying to move on. Except I’m not. I’m assuming that sometime before I die I’ll succumb to primal urges. But as far as love goes? It was amazing while I had it, but now…I’m through.

“I had one too many,” I easily lie. “I was too drunk to talk business.”

Grimacing, he rubs the back of his neck—his nervous tic. “Dammit.”

“There’s no guarantee Finn can even help.” From what I understand, Finn’s pretty close with his grandpa but he graduated from UNLV with a bachelor of arts. He has no interest in commercial real estate investments. I can’t imagine Senior is sharing his secret plans of taking over the Vegas Strip with his photographer grandson.

“Yeah, that crossed my mind,” he replies distractedly.

“What’s the problem?” I ask as I study Dad’s strained brows and pursed lips, completing his vexed expression.

“I knew when I was considering purchasing the property there was already a buyer in line. So I had to be strategic.”

Very few investors can match my dad’s cash offers. When he wants something, he gets it, and everybody else has to settle for his leftovers. “By strategic do you mean you put your dick on the table and outbid the buyer?”

He averts his gaze. “I might’ve made a more generous offer. Anyway, I just found out from an insider in Senior’s company that he was the original buyer. He tried to counter after my offer but couldn’t rummage up the cash.”

I lean back in my chair, pressing my lower back deeper into the lumbar support. “So? You won.”

“So,” he mocks like he’s talking to a foolish teenager, “it means Senior had the same idea that I do. He wanted to flip the property and probably make a big investment into a new hotel-casino.”

The puzzle pieces click into place. “Meaning there’s no way in hell he’s going to sell you the parking lot to help you execute the project you snaked from him.”

“Snaked is a strong word.”

“It’s just business, Dad. He’s a grown-ass man. He’ll get over it.”

Guilt washes over his face. “Or he might not. Let’s just say in the past we’ve had a similar misunderstanding, and according to my inside source, Senior has no intention of forgiving me. I believe they have some R-rated nicknames for me over at Harvey Corp.”

My phone pings, indicating some meeting or another I’m late to. What else is new? My schedule is such a fucking mess. As usual, I ignore it. “What inside source is feeding you all this information?”

“I might’velentHarvey an intern who has been feeding me some pertinent information necessary for business decisions.”

My dad’s glaring immaturity is a little entertaining. If these men, who are past sixty, continue to squabble and plot like grade-school rivals, I’m going to need popcorn. “You planted a mole in Harvey’s company?” Smirking, I fold my arms over my chest. “And you wonder why Senior hates your guts.”

“It was innocent curiosity?—”

“Innocent curiosity,” I repeat slowly. “That’s a strange way to describe corporate espionage.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. I’m pulling Casey back. He resigned from his position at Harvey’s office. He’s going to be a project manager for this property—our right-hand man. He’ll beback next week. Show him the ropes and take good care of him, okay?”

“As in kiss some major intern ass so he doesn’t rat you out for spying on Senior?”

Dad lifts his arms in the air and gives me a buggy stare. “Whose side are you on, huh?”

I circle my finger in midair. “After this display of theatrics, I think Senior’s.”

“Hilarious,” he responds flatly.

“Don’t worry so much. I’ll handle it. But can you make my life a little easier and keep things clean with Senior moving forward?”

He gives me a lazy, two-fingered salute, teeming with sarcasm. “Yes, boss.”

Rolling back my chair, I stand. “All right, if there’s nothing else, please excuse me as I get to work on cleaning up your mess.”

My hand is on the door handle when my dad stops me.

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