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It was almost a week before I presented my father with the letter from Lucien Martin. I knew time was running out before he told Kennedy about the offer. I’d spent the week drunk. I’d spent it playing long ballads on my piano. I’d spent it sleeping off one hangover just to get to the next. I’d canceled meetings. Neglected work.
“What’s this?” My father took the paper stained with drinks and food splotches. It hadn’t left my hand.
I had showered and shaved before appearing at the office. At last I didn’t look like a man who had been desperately lost.
“It’s from Lucien Martin,” I explained. “I told him it wasn’t an acceptable offer.” I waited for my father to read it. He folded it.
“He can’t have my hotel.”
“I know.”
He shoved the letter in a drawer in his desk. “The Vieux Carre is critical.”
“I told him you will have the hotel. I don’t know what else to say. He’s not going to get it. There are lots of way to make that happen.”
“His daughter, though? Have you met her?”
It wasn’t a question I expected. I nodded. “I have.”
“And?”
“She’s beautiful. Smart. Young.” I looked at him. “Just graduated college.”
“But you’re not interested in a beautiful young girl?”
“The hotel is the cornerstone to your entire plan. Trading Lucien’s daughter for that property isn’t a good move for you.” I couldn’t even bear to say Kennedy’s name out loud.
“What about for you?”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
He crossed his arms. “The bastard isn’t going to have the hotel. I don’t care if his daughter is a god damn Miss Universe playmate.”
“I know, Dad. It’s exactly what I said to him.”
“Wait.”
I paused at the door. I was ready for the meeting to be over.
“Last time Lucien came up, you said he sent an emissary in his place for the meeting.”
“Yes.” Fuck. He was putting pieces together.
“When did you see him then?”
“At his house.” I couldn’t lie.
“Some sort of follow up meeting?”
I shook my head. “No, I wasn’t there to see Lucien.”
“Why then?” he pressed.
“I was there to see his daughter.”
He peered at me. “What the hell is going on, Knight? Your sister’s wedding is in two weeks. Two fucking weeks. I’m running around trying on tuxedos and eating cakes your mother puts on a plate for me. I don’t need to worry about you getting fucked over by Lucien Martin’s daughter. You have some thing for her after all? Is that what you’re trying to tell me? Feelings? What is it? Are you just screwing her?” He shook his head. His face turned red. “The man is a con. He’s not one of us. He never will be. He’s about to learn the price for trying to interfere with my business. You don’t need to be anywhere near that family.”
I stared at him. “Five minutes ago, you wanted to know if I was interested in marrying her. Now you’re saying she’s off limits?”
