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“Good riddance.”
The comment pushed my irritation into absolute rage. “What the fuck did you have against the man?”
“What does it matter, son? He’s dead. Hopefully he rots in hell where he belongs.” He placed the contract on my desk, giving me a hard onceover. My father did that at least once a week, likely attempting to see if I was still following in his footsteps. “Don’t forget you have a meeting in New York on Friday. I’ll expect you to get a signed contract before you leave.”
I’d been slightly on the fence about my quick decision to head to Colorado. Not any longer. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to make it.”
“And why the fuck is that?”
“Because I’m attending my grandfather’s funeral and handling the distribution of his will.”
He snorted, glaring at me as if I’d just told him I’d committed a murder. Oh, wait. He wouldn’t have cared if that had occurred as long as it was for the benefit of the company. Fuck the man. I was angrier than I’d been in a long time.
“That’s ridiculous. You haven’t seen that… man in twenty fucking years.”
“That’s the point, Dad. Now, he’s dead.”
My father’s face twisted. “Then I’ll send your brother to New York. Jackson will finish the job. Maybe he’ll be the one to take over the company. My company.”
The same threat, a different day. I rose to my feet, offering the same smile to the man who’d provided sperm as I had to our number one enemy. “There’s only one problem with that, Pops. Jackson wants nothing to do with your brutal regime. I think you’re stuck with me. It’s funny how Grandpops left me the ranch, not you. I wonder why.”
“You need to sell that rattrap.”
I grabbed my keys and phone, moving away from my desk. My father’s visit had left a bitter taste in my mouth. “Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t. Who knows. Maybe I’ll keep it as a place of refuge. Watch your back, Dad. It would seem you have enemies out to get you and your company.” I headed toward the door, not waiting for his ridiculous comeback.
In a move unlike me, I enjoyed slamming the door.
Fuck my father.
CHAPTER 3
Sebastian
Who the fuck was Sarah Logan and why had my grandfather left her a tidy sum in his will?
That wouldn’t do. That wouldn’t do at all.
The man had been generous to a fault, but he was already paying inflated salaries to his employees. If he’d kept going this way, he would have found himself in the red in a few years. Sure, the value of the property alone was significant, but his business of both breeding and raising horses as well as boarding and training them was down by over twenty-two percent in recent years. Maybe part of the reason had been he hadn’t bred a real prize winner in almost five years. Hell, I hadn’t known he’d gotten into that aspect of horse ranching.
So much had changed.
I rubbed my jaw, my eyes exhausted from reading over the limited information Hank had sent as well as the fucking plane ride. Somehow, I had a feeling he’d been less than enthusiastic about my request. Well, fuck him. If I wanted to get a decent price for the ranch, I’d need to do my due diligence. That included determining which employees should be terminated and which could stay until the end.
And the crap about having a buyer waiting in the wings only kept me ticked off.
The girl’s name stuck in my mind. Why was she included in the will when my brother had been left off completely? It didn’t make any sense. Granted, Jackson had never had the opportunity to get to know Walter, only talking to him a couple of times on the phone. It was sad really.
I’d been asking myself the same questions since I’d read over one of the documents Hank had finally sent, although it had taken him much longer than an hour. There was no explanation and Hank certainly hadn’t offered any.
She was the only other person mentioned, other than ensuring Mr. Barclay’s legal expenses were paid. I had no issue with that since I wasn’t certain I liked the man. Sadly, the reason Hank had slipped into the temporary position as executor was because I’d refused to take the man’s phone calls. An addendum had been placed in the will in that if direct contact hadn’t been secured with me within forty-eight hours, Hank would be placed into a temporary role.
Why did I have a feeling it had all been perfectly orchestrated?
I would discuss this with my attorney, but not until I tried to figure out what Hank was trying to accomplish. It was possible I was simply too jaded given the work I did, but I hadn’t liked the man’s attitude from the get-go.
The entire situation had left a very bad taste in my mouth. With millions at stake, I could certainly see anyone becoming greedy. What I’d yet to determine was whether Hank would benefit from the sale of the ranch. However, there were still volumes of paperwork I’d need to go through.
“How’s Colorado?” Jackson asked when I grumbled under my breath.
