Page 16 of Miss Trust

Chance

Tory walked into the house with her daughter and friend while I fought the sudden urge to offer them a personal tour. Mentally, I had to shake off the thought. This wasn’t a private visit, this was a business arrangement. And I had plenty of business to attend to. Preferably far away from the bewitching blonde.

I left for the detached garage, large enough to fit a dozen cars, and found Malik standing there with a clipboard. He was checking off the contents as they were loaded into the garage. It felt strange to watch someone’s life packed into a small corner of my garage.

“Any issues?”

Malik shook his head. “Nope. A few more boxes to offload, and they’re done.”

“Good.”

“What are the chances for recovery for the little girl?”

“According to the doctor, it’s favorable if they can get it into remission with this next round of chemo.” The next few months were critical, but it sounded promising.

“Glad to hear it.”

Malik was a man of few words. A scary outer shell hid a kind heart, something few knew about.

“Her car has seen better days.”

He reminded me of another issue I needed to address. “I had the same thought. I’d like to bring one of the SUVs here for Victoria’s transportation.”

“I’ll arrange for it first thing tomorrow.”

I could imagine Tory would fight me on lending her a car to drive, but the thought of her hauling her daughter into LA for her treatments in a car ten years past its prime gave me chills. I wanted her to have reliable transportation.

After the movers finished up and left, Malik and I drove into LA. I had four clubs in Los Angeles, but my flagship business, The Cheetah Club, was where I spent most of my time. In addition to a bar and a dance club on the bottom two floors, there were poker tournaments and VIP rooms with strippers on the two upper floors. This was where my richest clients liked to frequent. It was where I kept the office from which I oversaw my many enterprises.

Tonight when I arrived off of my personal elevator which led directly to my office, my floor manager Mark greeted me with a tight expression. I knew him well enough to recognize he wasn’t there for good news. “What’s going on, Mark?”

“We had a visit from the FBI.” He handed me the business card of a Special Agent Smith.

This wasn’t my first visit from a government agent over the years. Despite paying millions in taxes and staying on the right side of the law–most of the time–they never missed an opportunity to bust my balls. Of course, I didn’t let it faze me. Not even my less-than-legal venture in a Dubai strip club kept me awake at night. The other investors involved had a lot more to lose than I did, providing a powerful form of protection. However, a visit from the authorities was always a nuisance.

“Did he say what he wanted?”

“He indicated he was here to speak directly with you. I informed him you were not on the premises, but I would pass along the message.”

I’d stall as long as possible. Flexing their muscle by randomly showing up was one of their favorite tactics. For all I knew, they were monitoring my investments and watching to see if I’d make a sudden move on the heels of the visit. I wouldn’t. I knew how to play the game. “If he returns, ensure he’s told I’m not on-site unless I say otherwise.”

Mark gave me a curt nod. “Of course, boss.”

“What’s happening in the VIP rooms tonight?”

He appeared surprised by my question. Probably because I usually knew what was planned before I stepped foot inside. But I was unprepared tonight. Off-kilter due to a beautiful blonde and her daughter, both of them now residing in my house.

Mark rattled off the names of the high rollers in attendance this evening as we walked onto the balcony overlooking the main floor. Those playing poker were nobody out of the ordinary, but I’d be sure to drop by a couple of the tables to make my presence known and act the part of host. I’d be invited to play, but I’d decline as usual. Although many men in my position enjoyed a number of vices, I found most sins didn’t hold the appeal they once had when I was in my twenties. Now I was simply in the business of protecting my lucrative investments and making more of them where it made sense. Currently I was on a real estate kick. I had condos in New York, Vegas, Miami, and here in downtown LA. In addition, I had a house in Newport Beach and had recently bought the property in Malibu. Perhaps I was showing my age when I was more excited about acquiring a new property than I was about scantily clad women giving me smiles as I walked into VIP room number one.

I surveyed the six men in the suite before setting my sights on the oldest gentleman, Bill Klein.

“Chance Maxwell. I was hoping you’d be here tonight,” he greeted, giving me a hearty handshake.

Bill was a movie producer, and a big name here in LA. He was a bored old man who’d recently separated from wife number six and was probably already on the prowl for lucky number seven. Yet another example, like my father, of why it made absolutely no sense to settle down with one person. Why? So you could have the messy breakup later? So you could have someone go after all of the assets you’d spent a lifetime building? So you could have children who’d become pawns in your war with the other person? No, thank you. There’d been a reason I’d had a vasectomy in my twenties. No kids, no commitments, no risk of losing everything I’d put my blood, sweat, and tears into.

“How are you, Bill?”

“Good, good. These are some of my business associates.”