I blow out a breath. “She was never my girlfriend if that’s what you’re asking. Like I said, we don’t have a relationship. I haven’t seen her since high school. Hell, I haven’t even thought about her since then.”
If I was a chick, I’d cross my fingers under my desk.
“Well, I want you to reacquaint yourself with her. Get into her good graces. You two had a moment on the dance floor.”
Not likely.
“For what purpose?” I ask. There’s always a purpose when it comes to my father.
“You don’t need to know any other information at this point.”
“The hell I don’t.” I sit up straight in my chair.
“Offer to reacquaint her with the area, wine and dine her, fuck her, I don’t really care. Just make sure she’s eating out of your hand.” He heads to the door, deeming our conversation over.
“What’s your endgame?”
He has one. He always has one.
“We can discuss that when the time is right.”
My hands clench into fists. “If I’m the pawn on the board, I want to know now.”
He chuckles, condescending but with genuine amusement lighting his dark eyes that match my own. “Son, you’re always in play. You’d do well to remember that.”
A long stream of air flares my nostrils as I attempt to keep my temper under control. I hate it when he has the satisfaction of knowing he got to me.
“Well, this pawn just removed himself from the board. Figure out another way to get what you want from Isla that doesn’t include me.”
He snaps back around. The amusement in his eyes seconds before is wiped clean, as though someone ran a wet cloth over a dirty blackboard. He places his palms on my desk and leans in toward me with a menacing glare.
“We both know that you’re going to do what I ask you to do. You have no choice. Unless you want you or one of your friends to see the inside of a prison cell.”
I shoot up out of my seat, no longer able to keep myself under control. Pressing my own hands on the desk, I come face-to-face with him. “Aren’t you ever going to get tired of using that against me?”
“One day, you’ll figure out that leverage gives you power, and one never tires of power.” He pats me on the cheek with his palm, and though I’d love nothing more than to snatch his wrist and break it, I manage to restrain myself, if not for myself then for my friends.
My father turns on his heel and leaves without a backward glance or another word, confident that I’ll do his bidding.
I pick up the glass and toss it across the room. It smashes against the opposite wall and rains down in pieces onto the table below that’s filled with the various business awards I’ve won over the years.
Roslin rushes in, her dark hair marked with gray pulled back into a severe ponytail. “Is everything okay?” Her eyes are wide and searching.
“Call maintenance and get them to clean this mess up,” I bark out.
Her head turns toward the shattered remains of my drink. “Right away, sir.”
I say nothing as she skitters out the door.
Of all the things my father could want me to do, having to make nice with Isla Flores isn’t one I would’ve predicted. He’s up to something, and I need to figure it out before I’m ensnared in his web of lies.
My mind zeroes in on Isla, but she’s just another chess piece I have to worry about. Easily dispensable.
7
Chapter Seven
Isla
I follow Ford’s Bentley Bentayga onto the private road that leads to Titans’ Tower. The chrome-and-dark-concrete monolith rises up in front of me with an intimidating grandeur. Ford follows the road marked Parking Garage to the right rather than heading to the outdoor parking lot, and I use the temporary visitor code he gave me to gain entry.
It hasn’t even been a week since his announcement, and already donations for his campaign have been rolling in. He’s garnered a large amount of support from the affluent members of the community, which is fantastic, but he needs to ensure that he also has the regular joes on his side if he wants to win.
That’s why I’m here. We’re going to try to come up with a strategy to do just that. Hank Klein, the campaign manager, was supposed to be here as well, but his wife and child both came down with the flu, so he had to leave to take care of them. I tried to do this at the campaign office, but Ford was desperate to change out of his suit, and he can be like a toddler who doesn’t want to go to bed when he doesn’t get his way. I’d been at the office all day and could use a change of scenery, so I relented. Not to mention, curiosity will kill me. I’ve heard about the Titans’ Tower through the grapevine and this is an easy way for me to see if the rumors are true—if they actually have a floor full of strippers at any given time for their exclusive use.
I park in a space marked ‘Visitor’ and turn my car off. I reach for the bag on the seat that contains all my files and exit the vehicle. Ford walks over to meet me from where he parked in another aisle. I can see him clearly because the garage is practically empty. Besides the Bentley he just arrived in, there’s only another three cars parked in here.
“It’s a little creepy how empty this place is,” I say, walking to meet him halfway. My heels click on the cement and the smell of concrete surrounds me.
He chuckles. “I might not have mentioned it, but the other Classholes and I are the sole owners of this building. We each have our own level to park our vehicles on. Have our own level to live on as well.”
My stomach pitches as if I’m standing on a small boat in rough seas.
“You boys really don’t like to share, huh?” I ask.
Ford must see something on my face, because he quickly follows his earlier statement with “Don’t worry, we’re going straight up to my level.”
A relieved breath leaves my lips. I haven’t directly discussed my interaction with Garrin at the party with him, but he’s no idiot. And given my past with Asher, I’m sure he assumes I’d rather not run into him either. I managed to avoid him the entire party last week, which I’m sure he noticed.
“Want me to take your bag?” Ford offers.
Always the gentleman. “No, I’ve got it, thanks.”
He leads me to an elevator and presses the button for the sixty-eighth floor. The pad shows there are seventy floors in total. This has to be one of the tallest buildings in the city, if not the tallest.
“If it’s just the five of you who live here, what’s on the other floors?” The rumor is they own the top half, but I guess I assumed that the people that live in the bottom levels help pay for this place. How naively stupid of me to think they would ever need a dime other than their trust funds.
“They’re empty.” He looks a little chagrined. Probably because of the kind of wealth it implies that they can afford to build a structure like this and leave the majority of it unoccupied. “Each floor is set up to be turned into condos eventually, if and when we decide this arrangement no longer works for us, so we prefer to think of it as an investment rather than an indulgence.”
I can’t help the smile that comes to my face. “You will make a good politician.”