Page 88 of The Billionaire Invitation

“Bourbon. Thanks.”

“Bourbon. Right.” Dante moved aside while Octavius stepped into his house. He was as misplaced here as Dante.

“How about a tour?” His father gestured to the house in general. “Weird statue.”

“On that we agree.” Dante scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t think I have bourbon. I have scotch and that case of wine you sent a while back.”

“The Big O?” He grinned, proud of the name.

“Malbec, if memory serves.”

O followed Dante into the kitchen. The dark wood, charcoal stone, and matte black metal were as personal as a hotel suite. Actually the Crane penthouse had felt more personal. He chose a bottle from the wine refrigerator and grabbed a wine key.

Behind him, his father rifled through the cabinets and came out with a pair of crystal red wine glasses Dante had forgotten he owned.

“Dusty.”

“Towel.” Dante pointed at a drawer.

His father silently shined up the glasses. Dante silently poured.

They sipped Malbec in sync. It wasn’t half bad.

“Sorry, son.”

Dante nearly choked on the wine in his mouth. Octavius Crane had never sincerely apologized to him. Ever. He drank the remaining liquid before refilling his glass.

“Look, I know I can be a dick. Ask your Uncle Alex. I can be selfish and focused only on my needs. But I love my children. Always have.”

“Some more than others?” Dante couldn’t help asking.

“No. But I am closer with some than others. That’s on me.”

Dante nodded, unsure what to do with that.

“I should have fixed things between us sooner, but I can’t turn back the clock. Maybe we can start again. I can stop trying to make you into a model of me, like I did Brody, and let you be who you are. Which is obviously the CEO of your grandfather’s foundation here in LA. You made your choice. I respect it.”

“I stepped down from the foundation. About ten minutes ago.”

For once in his life, Octavius Crane had nothing to say. Then, quietly, “What brought that on? Hopefully not me. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad for caring, son. It’s your best quality. That loyalty. That sense of duty.”

Dante absorbed the compliment before smiling sadly. “I hate to say this, but you were right. I was focused on the wrong priority.”

“Ah.” He nodded. When he spoke, it was like the bravado had been replaced with a more raw, more real version of him. “I wasn’t there enough for you. When you were growing up. You never needed me—that was what I told myself.” He spun the glass by its stem. “You became a man with every quality I didn’t have. Loyal to a fault. There when others needed him. You didn’t inherit that from me. I’m proud of you.”

There it was. Dante had waited his entire life to hear that from his father.

“Honesty…” Dante debated sharing, but then did anyway. “I love her. I never should have left her. Not then, not now.”

His father offered a sad smile. “Got your sense of self-preservation from me, though. Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. You helped me understand what I didn’t want. And sometimes that’s as important as knowing what you do.”

O nodded and smiled. “Want to watch the sunset?”

“Sure.” Dante opened the glass doors leading out to the patio. The sun was low in the sky, the palm trees black silhouettes on the horizon. His massive patio, pool, and hot tub were as still as a tomb. Appropriate, since he didn’t feel alive here.

“So, what now?” his dad asked as he looked into the pool.