An unexpected incident lowers my hesitation to continue with business as if nothing has happened when I head for my Porsche. The van I highlighted earlier won’t be shadowing me tonight. Its tires have been slashed, and from the width of the blade used and the perfection of the strike, I reach a quick conclusion as to whom my savior is.
A prince wants a crown, but instead of trudging through the slop at the bottom of the rung, he’s finally shooting for the stars.
I’d wish Nikolai well if I didn’t believe it would cause even more mayhem for Henry Gottle, Sr.
Lucky he loves anarchism.
35
“Itold you, Logan. The views are breathless, the diners will be wealthy, and this man…” I do my best to hide my gritted teeth when Tina drags her overly polished nails across my dress shirt. She’s bringing out all the moves tonight, but regretfully, not all of them are for Logan. “… is a genius when it comes to developments like this. He will turn your negative gear investment into a pot of gold in under two years.”
Logan’s eyes flash up dollar signs. “Is that true?”
I shrug. Usually, I have the confidence to sell ice to Eskimos, but I’m not playing the same game tonight. Nikolai’s unexpected visit already raised my hackles, but my intuition isn’t solely warning me to be cautious about another soon-to-be executed mafia war. It’s also cautioning me not to immediately advocate Logan’s company with my empire without first putting him and his company through Hunter’s pressure cooker.
Something is off. It just feels far more important than a meeting with a fellow arrogant businessman.
Endeavoring to get my head into the game, I say, “Projects this big usually take two to three years to push through the correct channels.” Before Logan can get too disappointed, I add, “But… with the right set of endorsements and a handful of schmoozing dates, approvals can be trimmed down to a couple of months.” Confident I’m seconds from reeling him in like the big fish he’s dying to be, I ask, “What type of capital are you looking to invest?”
My puffed-out chest sinks when he breathes out, “Three million.”
“For signage? Because that’s about all you can purchase in a town like Ravenshoe for that type of coin.” I purposely say coin, so he knows I’m unimpressed by his offer.
I researched his company while doing my darndest not to take out my frustration about my run-in with Nikolai on his tardiness. He was five minutes late, and even though to a man like me that equals hundreds of thousands in wasted resources, not all the unease prickling my skin was because of Logan’s poor time management skills. I’m juggling too many balls, and although I am well adept on keeping things afloat when they should be sinking, my patience is wearing thin.
Col is foolish enough to believe he can blackmail me, Callie’s auction was once again delayed due to an influx in bidders the past two weeks, and now a chump with enough money to piss Benjamin Franklins has the audacity to further waste my time.
I am at my limit, so don’t get me started on how itching my hands are to caress and adore every inch of Isabelle’s seductive body or everything I’ve worked so hard for the past six years will become null and void.
I wasn’t lying when I said I would give it all away just to sample Isabelle once, so you can picture how perverted it is now that I know how good she tastes.
Conscious three million is chump change for a man in Logan’s position—he has more than that in every single one of his offshore bank accounts—I give him one final chance. “Perhaps I misheard you, and you meant to say billion?”
He huffs out a breathy chuckle as if I’m joking.
I’m not, and my stern expression advises him of that.
After adjusting his pink dress shirt I wouldn’t be caught dead in, he asks, “Why would I invest so much money in a town hardly anyone knows?”
“Because—” My vibrating cell phone cuts me off. Ordinarily, I’d let the call go to voicemail, but since the caller is Hugo, and he is the only man I trust with Isabelle, I signal to Logan that I’ll be right with him before sliding my finger across the screen of my phone and squishing it to my ear.
Logan looks pissed.
Serves him right for thinking he can have a stake in my town for a measly three million.
It dawns on me that I’m mumbling out loud like Isabelle constantly does when Hugo says, “I hope you told him that wouldn’t pay for the gold cutlery I’m sure you eat off every night?”
“What is it, Hugo?” I ask, not in the mood for his badgering. He knows of Nikolai’s impromptu visit to Ravenshoe, but he has no clue his stopover had nothing to do with Isabelle. He’s still hopeful Nikolai was the perp Hunter spotted on surveillance weeks ago.
Hunter and I are not convinced.
Nikolai doesn’t travel without an entourage of women at his beck and call, and since Henry’s women are the most sought after on this side of the country, a quick call to Henry during commute to the wharf ensures me the shadowed figure two weeks ago was not him.
Our unwanted guest seems to loath the limelight—a stark contrast to Nikolai’s clamber for fame.
After coughing to clear his throat, Hugo advises, “Hunter said you were in an important meeting, but I figured you’d want to know this.” I wait, soundlessly advising for him to continue. He doesafteranother swallow, and I stiffen when he pushes out in a hurry, “There’s a man in Isabelle’s apartment. Hunter ran his face through facial recognition, but nothing came up. He’s a ghost.”
Through a tight jaw, I growl out, “No one is a ghost.”
