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I pretend to be her doting boyfriend in public and she gushes about how wonderful I am to Daddy Dearest. Peyton thinks I’m trying to earn her dad’s trust and respect so he’ll make me partner in his firm once I graduate law school. The fact that she actually believes that garbage proves she doesn’t know me at all.
I take the tumbler from him. “Thank you, Charles.”
He laughs. “Now, was that so hard?”
My father laughs. “How are things at the firm?”
“Can’t complain,” Charles replies. “Our second quarter revenue was at a record high.”
Yeah, I bet. Charles Callahan is one of the most successful criminal attorneys in the country. He has a perfect winning record so of course, anyone facing a nasty charge would want to retain him. It doesn’t matter what you’re accused of or how guilty you are. If you’re wealthy enough, and Charles agrees to represent you, an acquittal is almost guaranteed. The man has so many officials in his pocket, it’s obscene.
If my suspicions are correct, he has some pretty hefty blackmail on those officials from his business with my father. Neither one of them are aware I know about their disgusting side venture. It’s one of the many cards I’m holding close until the timing is right. I need to play the game until I can gather enough evidence, no dirty judge or DA can dig them out of it. Hence, why I’m currently in Charles Callahan’s cigar room, acting like I enjoy hanging out with these old pricks.
I grind my molars when he pats me on the back. “I’ve got some new Cubans for after dinner. You interested?”
“Of course he’s interested,” my father answers on my behalf. “What else would he do? Gossip with the hens?”
Both men laugh at that while I fight the urge to roll my eyes. I hate my father just as much as I hate Callahan. They’re both narcissistic sociopaths and massive chauvinists. A woman’s purpose in their world is to look pretty, keep their mouths shut and their legs open whenever they feel like busting a nut. I like fucking hot girls as much as the next guy, but women with nothing between their ears drive me insane. Sadly, there’s not many options outside of our circle.
That said, nothing would make my father happier than watching me follow in his path, so I allow him to believe I share his opinion. And nothing would make Charles happier than pawning his daughter off to someone as wealthy as well-bred as I am. I wonder if he would still feel that way if he knew how many times I beat off earlier to fantasies of his other daughter.
“How are things going with Jasmine?” my dad asks Charles as he takes a seat on the tufted leather couch.
Well, now here’s a topic I’ll actually be interested in. It’s like he read my mind.
Charles sighs. “Not well, Preston. Not well at all. She’s stubborn, impulsive, and... rough around the edges. It’s going to take a lot of effort to make her heel. Madeline has taken her on as a little pet project, so I’m hoping she’ll whip her into shape soon enough.”
I smirk. Good luck with that, Chuck. If the limited interactions I’ve had with her are any indication, Jasmine heels to no one. It’s one of the main reasons I find her so intriguing.
“If Madeline can’t handle it, I’m sure Kingston here would be more than happy to show her how things work around here,” my dad offers. “Right, son?”
I swallow the remaining liquid in my glass before nodding. “Of course. I would love to put her in her place. I met her this morning and I can certainly appreciate your problem, Charles. She’s rather... spirited.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “Do you really think you could break her of that stupid notion?”
Both men are watching me carefully, waiting for my response.
I give them a confident grin, despite the fact that confidence is the last thing I’m feeling right now. “Without a doubt. In fact, I’d be happy to start right away. By the time I’m done with her, she’ll be the most obedient woman you know.”
Charles’ eyes light up. “I knew you were special, son.” He turns toward my dad. “If he does well with this, maybe we should bring him in on other projects.”
My father nods. “Agreed. I think it’s about time.”
Well, well. It looks like I may not need Peyton after all.
CHAPTER SEVEN
JAZZ
At quarter to six, Ms. Williams showed up at my door to ensure I
was dressed properly. Apparently, the sperm donor didn’t trust me to do it myself, which was actually pretty smart of him if I’m being honest. After donning the green Prada dress and gold sandals she pulled out of my closet, I’m being ushered to the formal dining room.
When I hesitate at the bottom of the staircase, she gives me a little shove. “Hurry, now. The Davenports have been here for a while and they should be finished with pre-dinner drinks. Your father does not tolerate tardiness.”
I have a feeling he doesn’t tolerate much of anything.
When I arrive, Madeline, Peyton, and the third—or fourth—Mrs. Davenport are sitting at the table, sipping on champagne.
