AllFreeNovel
Share Us
LUKE
Victor Thames is even moreeccentric in real life than he is over the phone.
I stare at him from across the table, waiting as he visually inspects me. His eyes are narrowed, his expression extremely focused. He hasn’t said more than two words since I sat down in his dusty corner office, in a building that is smack dab between a 7/11 and a prison. I'm pretty sure a man got shot last week a few blocks away, and as I drove in, I noticed a few shady people with a few shady items switching hands. It's probably a bad idea to drive my car in this neighborhood.
But I do it anyway.
I knew if I suggested we meet anywhere else, Thames would simply refuse to meet with me. Part of the reason he picked this place, apart from the fact that it's probably his office, is because he wants to test me. Or maybe to scare me off.
Unfortunately for him, I don’t scare easily.
So, I just sit there, smiling pleasantly, while he tries to crawl into my head and find whatever he’s looking for.
Finally, after what feels like an hour, he leans back in his seat and crosses his arms over his chest.
“Happy?" I ask, mildly.
“Hardly,” he says. “You’re surprisingly difficult to read.”
“Coming from you, I’m going to take that as a compliment." Thames is a former vet and rumor has it that he was an interrogator in the field.
“But I doubt that it’s due to any particular skill of mine," I continue. “The truth is that I’m just not hiding anything. Everything I’ve told you has been the truth. I want to help you.”
“Oh yeah? And why is that?”
I shrug. “Because it’s what I do.”
“Oh, I know all about what you do, Luke Hardy.” A sneer flitters across his lips. “Big-time hockey star turned playboy billionaire who goes around throwing his money like it’s candy, and goes through women like they’re condoms.”
I smile at the assessment. It’s not too far off, at least from how I used to live.
“You break all the hearts, but the women still love you. Even my daughter tells me she has a crush on you." He adds the last part grudgingly, and that more than anything exposes his unwillingness to work with me.
“I’m flattered," I say, unable to hide my amusement that the curmudgeonly old man doesn’t want to work with me because of his daughter. “I’d be happy to sign something for her if you want.”
“Nah,” he says. “She doesn’t know I’m taking this meeting. For her sake, I don't want you anywhere near her."
“Ah,” I say.
He frowns at me, deeply. "You won’t meet her either.”
“Alright.”
“Aren’t you going to ask why?”
“I’m sure you have your reasons.”
That only makes him frown more. “Because I don’t like the way you deal with women. You treat them like they’re disposable. New face every month. You lack discipline in your love life. How the hell am I supposed to believe you have discipline in business?”
I shake my head, wondering just how many tabloids this man has paid attention to over the years.
“First things first," I tap the table. "You shouldn't believe in everything you read. Because a lot of it is just smoke and mirrors.”
He raises an eyebrow in disbelief.
“I'm serious. All the billionaire playboy stuff. It’s an act.” It didn’t used to be. It's an act born out of a real history. I used to be the kind of guy who went through women faster than I could blink, but all that stopped after college. By that point, I was surrounded by mostly groupies and I lost my taste for women who were so hungry for my fame and my prestige.
The few one-night stands I did indulge in, stopped when I took custody of Mikey. Since then, it's been lowkey, consistent hook-ups.
