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CHAPTER TWO
Daniel cursed.
He slammed the door of his office and directed his father to sit. Things had gotten completely out of hand.
“I’m not marrying Nadia fucking Mackenzie.”
His father crossed his arms. “Of course you don’t want to marry her. That’s not what this is about. They’re blackmailing us. Unless we find that document, we’re fucked.”
Jesus.
There had to be a way out of this.
Daniel had been CEO now for two years and every day he woke up feeling like he was living the dream. He was a rich and powerful man, proud of their hotels and the type of employer they were. He’d do anything for the business and his family.
But allow himself to be blackmailed into marrying Nadia Mackenzie?
No.
Fuck that.
His father might believe they were fucked, but Daniel would not sit back and sign his life away to a cold, boring woman—because, yes, he knew Nadia and he’d nearly fallen asleep during both the conversations he’d had with her.
It wasn’t just that—Daniel had no plans to marry anyone. Ever.
Hell, after witnessing his parents’ divorce as a teenager, Daniel had quickly decided it wasn’t for him. All three of the Dufort brothers had watched their mother slowly become an alcoholic while his father worked twelve to eighteen-hour days—three of them spent fucking other women.
Sure, he had a healthy sex life, but Daniel wasn’t a cheater.
His mother had eventually figured it out. Her tears had turned to anger, bottles were thrown, and vases smashed. When she’d ripped up a valuable painting and left it at the entrance of their Park Avenue penthouse, his father had filed for divorce.
Marie Dufort was moved into an apartment a few blocks away and saw the boys only on weekends. She was now a recovered alcoholic who Daniel spoke to a few times a month.
So, while his father built the Dufort empire and bent secretaries over his desk, and his mother drank herself stupid, the three boys had emotionally been on their own.
There had been no one to console him after he’d had a fight with Timmy on the playground—which he’d won—or explained why Suzie had passed him a note with a flower drawn on it. Then cried when he screwed it up because it seemed dumb. Or why, when he’d had his first kiss, he’d felt all weird on the inside.
They’d only had each other and because of that, all three of them were close. Which served them well now as business partners. Hunter was the Director of Sales and Fletcher the Director of Marketing and PR.
“Then it’s time we talk to Brent about speaking to the cops,” he said, referring to their company lawyer.
His father frowned at him like he was an idiot.
“Daniel, he’s a damn senator. They’d laugh us out of the station,” Johnathan said.
Yeah, he knew that. Without proof, they didn’t have a leg to stand on.
“And you have no idea who could’ve taken these copies? Because it should be in the damn vault, Dad,” he asked, using the familiar term which he rarely did at work. “And are you sure you had a copy at home?”
His father turned, then shook his head.
“No. I’m not sure about the second copy. Damn it. It was twenty years ago, son! I went to Harvard with the son of a bitch. I never in a million years thought he’d pull something like this. I’ve known him for two decades.”
Daniel nodded.
The two men weren’t best friends, but they were both professional, successful men who’d made a sound business agreement.
Johnathan could have gone to the bank twenty years ago and borrowed for a better rate, but they wouldn’t have loaned him the full amount. Bill had inherited millions from his grandfather and was looking for a long-term investment with a good return. Dufort Hotels had appealed to him.
