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I squint at a particular green corner. “Is that a mini golf course?”
“Yep. Hartley Marine provides daycare service for its staff, and that mini golf course is part of it. Well, the adults use it too. We have a lot of staff parties there.”
There’s nothing more boring than businessmen occupying tall buildings. The factory complex, or whatever it is we’re about to descend into, is a reflection of who Rob is—warm, accessible, andrefreshing.
“Rob will meet you soon.” The pilot flashes me a big grin, pointing at the helipad. “Hold on, I just need to go around a bit. The wind here is unpredictable.”
I don’t care about the wind. I just need to see Rob somewhere down there.
15
ROB
Prince Yiannis-Andreas of Greece nods at me, affirming that he’s impressed with the Pentela B5513. He should be. Inspired by the Erechtheum temple in Athens, the 210-foot beauty boasts four decks, including an owner’s private deck and a full entertainment suite, and is capable of housing one helicopter and two cars. Its bright, earthy, yet luxurious design originates from the Pentelic marble, which is iconic to the Erechtheum temple.
“This is the smaller model, though, yes?” the twenty-four-year-old royal says.
“Yes, this is actually the smallest of the Pentela collection. The one waiting outside, which we will board soon, is the largest. Almost three times the size of this one,” I explain while Matty stands next to me quietly. When Wyatt arrives with Amber-Rose later, my pilot will take my baby brother back with him.
“It’s where the real party will be,” Clay adds. “Oh, and it has a basketball court, too. Show off your moves, eh, Neo?” My brother knows the prince well. They call each other by their nicknames, while I’m still on your-highness term with him.
Judging by the prince’s grin, it looks like he can’t wait to grab a ball and go on the attack. Those two will ruin their tuxes if they play together.
“Ten minutes. Eighteen to twelve, to me,” the second cousin of the Greek Crown Prince says. “If I win, twenty percent discount on the Pentela.”
I arch a brow in Clay’s direction.
My brother knows I disapprove, but he doesn’t care at this stage. “What’s in it for me?” Clay asks the prince.
“Your pride.”
Not the least bit fazed, my brother says, “Deal!”
They shake hands on it, and then the prince turns to me. “You shouldn’t trust your brother so much.”
I just shrug my shoulders, discreetly shooting a glare at Clay.
“By the way,” the prince continues, “where did you get those jeans from? They look terrific.”
After copping a few ‘what were you thinking’ looks from people tonight, his comments make me feel slightly better despite my royal guest wearing a crisp Tom Ford tuxedo and a pair of impeccable patent loafers (likely Calvin Klein). But I won’t feel good until Amber-Rose is by my side. She should’ve been here by now.
“Alexander McQueen,” I reply.
“I might just order ten of them.”
Bernie Andino, our top Greek dealer, joins us. Like Clay, he’s good friends with the prince. “Is that your chopper?” Bernie says to me, hearing a noise coming from the back of the complex.
Thank God!She’s here.
“Yeah. I’ve got a guest coming from up north.”
“Robson Hartley! You’re flying in the Furstenbergs but letting us drive here from LAX?”
They were chauffeured here in a limo equipped with the best mini bar in the whole state of California!
“It’s not them. Klaus and Hanna have been here a while,” I say, nodding at the Furstenberg couple talking to my chief engineer Rocky and my assistant Kylie at the other end of the showroom.
“Go. I’ll take care of us,” Clay says.
