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“Not in the way that you mean,” Angela said. “He has a new project that he wants me to work on with him.”
“And is that all he wants you to work on?”
Angela raised a brow. “What are you talking about?”
“C’mon, you must know Daniel Cobb has a reputation. He’s quite the ladies’ man, or so I’ve heard.”
“And from whom have you heard that?” Angela queried.
Myrna shrugged. “Around. People talk. And word on the street is that Daniel has an aversion to commitment. So all I’m saying is that I hope this venture is on the up-and-up and that you need to be on your guard. A man as suave and charming as Daniel Cobb just might sneak up on you.”
Angela sat back in her seat. She highly doubted that. She had her eye on the prize. Getting out of her small yet expensive apartment and into one of the luxurious condos she’d set her sights on two years ago when she’d begun saving. And no man, including Daniel Cobb, was going to get her off her game.
CHAPTER 2
Daniel eased his red Ferrari up to the valet station outside a fifty-five-story tower in Brickell, Miami’s financial district, the following day.
A valet greeted him, relieving him of his keys, and Daniel strode inside the formidable tower to the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor, where he was set to attend the monthly meeting for Prescott George.
Seven years ago, he’d been invited to join the illustrious men’s club by the president, Ashton Rollins. In the seventy-five-year history of the organization, no one actually called it Prescott George. They all referred to it as the Millionaire Moguls Club. Why? Because anyone who was anyone knew that the discreet and powerful club only invited old money and a handful of the nouveau riche to join them. That’s not to say the Millionaire Moguls didn’t give back.
Their motto was From Generation to Generation, Lifting Each Other Up. The club regularly gave college scholarships to needy students and funding to inner-city organizations. It’s why Daniel was here today. They were settling on the charity organization that would be the beneficiary of Prescott George’s upcoming annual fund-raising gala.
As he stood in the elevator, Daniel was sure there were going to be fireworks in today’s meeting between Joshua DeLong, the charity outreach and public relations chair, and Ashton. The two men were like oil and water; they didn’t mix. They had numerous differences, not the least of which was the source of their fortunes, and in that regard Daniel compared himself, as well. Ashton was a rich kid who’d been born into money, unlike Daniel, who’d earned his, and Joshua, who, rumor had it, had stolen his fortune. As a corporate raider, Joshua had a way of taking what he wanted, regardless of if it was from the misfortune of others. Still, he was a likable guy with loads of charisma.
And then there was Ashton.
Daniel wasn’t Ashton’s biggest fan, either, but his animosity went deeper, much deeper, and further back into their shared history.
The ding of the elevator indicated they’d reached the top level and Daniel exited. The doors opened into an old boys’ club. Or at least that’s how Daniel saw it. The wood-paneled walls and leather furniture were certainly of a bygone era and could use some updating. Daniel’s mission was to change that.
A beautifully stunning chocolate sister was at the mahogany receptionist desk and greeted him. “Good afternoon, Mr. Cobb. The meeting hasn’t yet convened in the conference room.” She nodded her head toward the corridor where the rest of the club was gathered.
“Thank you, Tiffany.”
“Can I get you anything to drink? A scotch, perhaps?”
Daniel never drank during the day. He liked to keep a cool head. “No, thank you.” As he strode down the corridor to the conference room, he noted the prominent portraits of George Rollins and Prescott Owens, the club founders, that lined the walls. Daniel was certain that was one of the reasons Joshua disliked Ashton—because he hadn’t earned his title of president. He’d inherited it from his grandfather George and his father, Alexander Rollins.
According to the history books, only a member of the Rollins or Owens families had ever served as its leader. And the old-timers were committed to keeping things that way. But Daniel and Joshua were new-school, nouveau riche and ready to bring the Millionaire Moguls into the twenty-first century.
