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“I can only hurt someone who genuinely gives a damn about me. You don’t give a damn about anyone save yourself.”
“That isn’t true!”
“It’s nothing but the truth,” Josh said drily. “Don’t think you can BS me. You’re only interested in what I can give you, and that’s fine. Truly, it is.” And it was. “When you’re after my money, I know where we stand. And whether or not I stay engaged and ultimately marry Samantha, has nothing to do with you. And she’ll have no say over your maintenance. When have you known anyone to influence me where money’s concerned?”
“She’s a gold-digger,” Elizabeth asserted, apparently not having heard a thing he’d said.
“Change the record or the next time you call, I won’t pick up.” He cut the line, uncaring that she was still squawking and pointed to the pearl ring.
The assistant, a blonde woman about ten years his junior, stared at him wide-eyed. Maybe he’d come across as harsh with his mother, especially in front of an audience, but, well, Elizabeth was no mother.
Samantha was a mother.
He’d seen her with Erin.
She mopped his snotty nose, gave a shit about the crap drawings he gave her and made a fuss about pinning them on a board in her damn-awful kitchen. The living room was for family, not for show. There were toys everywhere, but not in a messy way. In a way that declared this was a room for a child, and the child was loved and at the center of the house.
He knew the difference because he’d been raised the exact opposite.
He’d known he’d been a nuisance.
A mistake.
Of course, it had been a fruitful mistake on his mother’s behalf.
His father, a rich property tycoon, already married, had always paid for Josh’s care and upkeep, and had maintained Elizabeth in a very luxurious manner until Josh had left for college.
Surprisingly enough, he had a better relationship with his father than his mother. Josh hadn’t even met the man until he was ten, when Adam Martin’s wife and he had divorced, and he could finally claim Josh without it triggering a clause in his prenup agreement with his ex.
Despite all that, Josh liked his father. Though he’d never been publicly claimed by him, his early years had been funded by the man when he could have avoided paying a dime. Then, at ten, he’d introduced Josh to his parents and those grandparents had been the first bit of real family he’d ever had.
If Adam Martin had done nothing else for his son, it was enough that he’d introduced him to his grandparents.
Then, when his grandfather had died, leaving him a substantial inheritance, Josh had started Stradi, and from tiny acorns, a mighty oak had definitely grown.
His father had done a lot for him, his mother had used him. Had used Josh’s blood tie to Adam to get by. She’d not been a pauper herself, but things had changed after the stock market crash in 08. Her decent-sized savings from years on cashing in on the maintenance his father paid, had halved thanks to her mismanagement—even after he’d recommended a financial advisor.
The woman really was her own worst enemy.
Grumbling under his breath, and uncaring that the blonde assistant was gawking at him like an ogre, he growled out, “The pearl ring? May I see it?”
At his prompt, the woman jolted, but she rushed to hand him the ring from the velvet bed.
He studied the flawless pearl, eyed the tiny opals that were arranged in a fire burst around the large ball—my my, it was even more exquisite in the flesh and it would suit Samantha down to a tee.
A sound bustled from the door, and he turned to see what the fuss was. Jacobsons was an exclusive jeweler. The silent atmosphere belonged in a museum, that was how quiet it was.
Perhaps, if not a museum, a library.
The walls were hallowed, paneled with a rich mahogany
like a jewelers of old. The glass cabinets were antique, but very well maintained, it was like they’d been made yesterday and produced to appear old.
He liked it here. He tended to send his PA here to buy his mother gifts, and if he was breaking up with a particularly good mistress—one who was getting a little too comfortable with being on his arm at events—then he also had Ethan buy them something from this store.
Still, the noise was a nuisance, but when he saw its source, his annoyance turned to outright disbelief.
“Harold? What the hell?” He strode forward and reached for Samantha’s arm. She was struggling in his head of security’s hold. “What’s going on here?”
