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“Malcolm, I know desperate times call for desperate measures and all,” he said, “but I'm with your father on this. Danielle would still be the ideal candidate. She has good genes, comes from money herself –”
“And she's a gold-digging bitch who fucks other men and who's only after me for my money? But who cares about that, right?” I scoffed. “Why did you mention Casey as being mixed race? What does that have to do with anything?”
“Because she's half Hispanic,” he said as if it were something to be ashamed of. “On her mother's side.”
“How would you know this?” I asked. “And why does it matter?”
The elevator doors finally opened for us, and we stepped inside. Terrance tried to use it as an excuse to avoid my question, but I pressed the issue.
“Terrance, I asked you a question.”
“I looked into her background a bit, Malcolm,” he said. “I was curious about the woman you'd chosen as your surrogate. It’s my job to make sure your are protected. I figured your family ought to know.”
“Don't bring my family into this,” I said. “It's my personal affair, and I expect you to keep this quiet until I'm ready to tell them. Is that clear?”
He didn't respond.
“Terrance, I'm the one paying you right now, and when my father dies, I will be the one taking over Crane Enterprises. Trust me when I say that you do not want to be on my bad side. Not if you still want to remain on retainer, that is.”
For the first time all night, something flashed in his otherwise dead eyes. A shadow passed over his face as he turned to me.
“Understood, Mr. Crane,” he said. “I will not talk to your family about this matter.”
The elevator landed on the main floor, and I hurried out, glancing around the lobby. One of our security guards was sitting at the front desk, but otherwise, we were alone. I rushed out of the building and into the street, looking everywhere, but there was no sign of her.
A bus pulled away from the curb just as I started up the steps, and I saw Casey's face peering back at me from the window. When she caught me looking, she turned away.
Terrance came out of the building and stood beside me.
“I'll keep your plans secret, Malcolm, but just know that I have your entire family's best interests at heart. Not just yours. That is my job and I will execute it as faithfully as I can.”
He walked to the parking lot and disappeared among the few rows of cars still there. My fists were balled up at my sides as I watched him walk away. Maybe I should have hired my own lawyer to work on this – someone who wasn't tied to my father.
It was too late now though. I'd been in a hurry and needed to get moving on this.
Hopefully I wouldn't pay for it later.
~ooo000ooo~
Ever since I'd split from Danielle, I let her stay in our condo while I'd been sleeping in my old bedroom at my family's home in Beverly Hills. It just seemed easier than dealing with Danielle at the moment.
Only a few days into the stay at my parent's house though, and I knew I'd need to get my own place. The condo had too many memories for me to go back there, even if I did kick Danielle out. I figured I'd just let her have the condo. She could take over the payments and I'd find somewhere else to live, eventually.
“Mom, what are you still doing up?” I asked when I got home that evening.
It was after ten by the time I made my way back home. She was usually in bed by that time. Instead, she sat in the parlor room, drinking tea by the fireplace. She smiled and stood up when I walked through th
e door.
“I was waiting for you, dear,” she said. “I wanted to see how you're doing in regard to the task your father set out for you.”
I knew mom would support me in my decision to enter into an agreement with a woman like I had, but Terrance's words came back to me. His comments about Casey being mixed race and what my family would think of that. A nervous ripple rolled through my body and I wasn't sure why.
I was mentally exhausted though, and in no mood to answer a hundred questions or have my mother beg to meet Casey, so I decided to keep it under wraps for now. Especially since Casey wasn't even pregnant yet – and we weren't even sure this would work.
I whipped around my mom and headed for the mini bar, where I poured myself a Scotch. I leaned against the bar and drank, finishing most of the glass before I knew what I was going to say.
“I'm working on it, mom,” was what I finally decided on.
