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Without consulting with my business partner. Which will be a problem.
“I want more,” Clive says, grinning as he stares at me. “Two more clubs and a restaurant. That ought to cover it.”
“Dad,” Robin says, rolling her eyes, but she spreads her hands in awhat-can-you-dogesture.
“Absolutely not,” I say firmly. “I haven’t even agreed tooneclub.”
“I want Hazard and two more, plus a decent restaurant, all for my birthday. I want you to sign their ownership over to me in front of the entire room filled with politicians and businessmen. After that, we’ll call things even.” He looks so smug I could light his face on fire.
This is insane. My clubs, my restaurants, they’re my entire life. I worked hard to create them, to market them, to grow them to what they are now, and this man wants me to hand over my blood, sweat, and tears to him.
To make it all worse, he wants me to do it in public.
It’s mortifying.
The fucking shit stain wants to embarrass me, and by extension, my whole family.
I can’t let that happen.
Except… I remember what I told Dara. The promise I made to her.
She’s going to be my priority from now on.
Not my family, not my clubs, and not my own ego.
Businesses rise and fall, but Dara and my child will be with me for the rest of my life.
And they have to take precedent over anything else.
It burns me to agree to these terms. The thought of giving this man my livelihood makes me want to be sick. Not to mention Genna’s going to murder me, or she’s going to try at least once.
It makes me want to beat McLaren within an inch of his life.
But instead, I think of Dara. I think of her pregnant, giving birth, the baby, everything we’ll go through together.
I think of my men, and even Genna. It’s better to lose some clubs than to lose absolutely everything.
Slowly, I nod my head, clenching my jaw so tight I think I might crack a tooth.
“Wonderful,” Robin says, sounding much too happy. “Since we’re all in agreement, let’s make it official.” She grabs a piece of paper and a pen from her father’s desk and begins to write out a contract. “I’ll keep it simple since I don’t feel like being here all day doing this thing longhand.”
“My daughter has legal training,” Clive says proudly.
I don’t give a fuck.
I say nothing, not trusting myself to speak.
Robin finishes with a flourish, passes it to her father for a cursory inspection, and he signs. She then gives it to me.
I read through the terms, feeling like ants are crawling through my veins, but the contract is fair and accurate to what we just discussed. Hazard, plus two more clubs of my choosing, and a restaurant at least four years old and profitable. I know just the one.
I sign and shove the paper back at her.
Robin accepts.
“There, we’re all set. So now, Dad, I’ll get to work planning your birthday with Finn—”
“I’m not planning anything,” I say with a snarl.
