Knowing that this was one of those situations where a guy just had to hold his breath and get it done, he growled and turned around to toss the beer bottle across the room into the trash. Right. He had to just fucking do it. It was a dinner. A fucking dinner. No worries.
Doing this would be way easier if he had his girl at his side. Except he wouldn’t. Without her to get him through it, he’d need to take a few buddies to keep him company. Retrieving his bottle of Cuervo from the back of the cupboard, he took a few long slugs then grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge and slid them into his jacket pockets.
If he got drunk enough, he wouldn’t remember this clusterfuck tomorrow, and if he offended this Stretton guy, he might lay off. Bonus.
After secreting the Cuervo in his sleeve, Max opened a third beer bottle, tossed the lid, and started for the door figuring he might as well get this over with.
Still looking for any excuse to delay, he hoped to see someone on the way out of his building. He knew most people that lived around here and there was always a chance of a party going on somewhere.
Whenever Max needed to be somewhere, he couldn’t walk ten feet in his building or his neighborhood without seeing someone he knew. So why the fuck was it that the whole fucking street was deserted now when he needed some bastard to distract him? A better offer would give him an excuse not to show up for dinner.
Sure, he didn’t want to explain this stupid car, but he was in no rush to get to this fucker’s house.
No, fuck, he had to do this. Didn’t he just get through telling himself that?
In any other circumstance, he’d tell the guy to go fuck himself. Not because he had any anger towards this Stretton guy, fuck that, he had no daddy issues, and no resentment. Max was indifferent about it and had never craved a relationship with his father. He’d barely spared the guy a thought through the years. Yeah, maybe his life would’ve been different if his mom and Stretton had stayed together, but seriously, he was no idiot, and knew how the relationship would’ve gone down.
Max’s mom, Cindy, gave Stretton what he wanted; the dude was happy to take it and split. Plenty of guys would’ve done the same thing… plenty of them did with his mom. It was just Max’s luck that he’d been conceived. There was no Cinderella story. He knew guys like Stretton who used women they saw as trashy for their perverted fantasies. They got to do the dirty and then fuck off back to their own cushy lives without a thought for the consequences.
That’s all he was. A consequence. An ignored one. But that was just fine by him.
Loitering on the sidewalk, he drank some more beer, keeping his distance from the car. But the front door opened. A guy got out and started toward him.
“Mr. Flynn?” the guy asked as he adjusted his hat.
Max smiled. It was fucking hilarious how out of place the Stretton folk were around here.
“Max,” he said, putting the opening of his bottle to his lips as he swiped the guy’s cap from his head and thrust it against his chest. “No hats, no Mr., and I really don’t give a fuck about the rules.” Taking a beer from his pocket, he offered it to the guy. “Beer?”
“Uh…” The driver glanced at the bottle and shook his head. “My employer doesn’t allow—”
“Yeah, I don’t give a fuck about that,” Max said and strode past the guy to head for the front of the car.
“Sir, if you’d just—”
Turning to lock eyes with him, Max glared. “If you think about trying to tell me how things are done your way, you know, like opening a door for me or sticking me in the back of any rolling showboat like this, I’ll have to show you how things are done my way and you’ll end up eating asphalt.”
The driver wasn’t used to guys like him, Max could tell from the way he made fish faces for a minute before saying anything. “Yes, sir.”
“That goes for calling me sir, too,” Max said. “Now let’s get this show on the road. Faster I get there, faster I can split.”
Jumping in the front of the car, Max was tempted to do the driving, but he wouldn’t be able to drink his beers as easily if he did. So, he settled back, stretched out his legs as best he could and waited for the driver to follow him in to get them moving.
The fuck off fancy house was surrounded by a massive fucking wall that had some fancy iron gate. Max was ready for a nap by the time they got there, and almost drifted off in the time it took to get from the gate to the house.
He’d chatted with the driver a bit, but the guy was off his game, least that’s what Max figured. Either that or the guy was just boring as hell.
Soon as the car stopped, Max got out, even though the driver called after him. He didn’t need any gaunt-looking fucker in a costume opening his door or escorting him anywhere. If he was here for dinner, he was going up those stairs and into that house.
Despite knowing it was good manners to knock and be invited in to a stranger’s house, Max walked straight through the front door. He didn’t want any ceremony, none of that “Please wait here, sir,” shit. Sir, he fucking hated that.
But when he got inside, he stopped short and lifted his eyes to the domed ceiling towering thirty feet above. He wasn’t impressed. Shit like this didn’t impress him, and he certainly wasn’t awe-struck by its beauty. Show him a decent pair of tits or rev a perfectly tuned engine and he’d acknowledge beauty; this was bricks and mortar, no different from his place or any other place as far as he was concerned.
“Can I help you?”
Spinning around, Max saw a beanpole in a costume approaching from a side arch. “Pizza guy,” Max said, tipping the last of his beer into his throat.
“Very good,” the costume guy said. “You’re Mr. Flynn, I assume. Your father will receive you in the dining room, please follow me.”
The folks around here had good manners, even if they were dry. If he’d come here without meeting his girl, he’d probably have judged them a lot more harshly, and mocked their snooty attitudes.
But his girl could be snooty, and it wasn’t because she was superior, far from it. It was because that was what this Stretton guy demanded of his people. Though God only knew why, because it made it difficult to relax around here.
Strolling along behind the guy who was walking like he had a pole in his asshole, Max looked left and right at the fancy paintings on the wall and the shiny gold statues. He didn’t get it, didn’t get why this was interesting or why it should make him fall over himself.
The beanpole stopped at the end of the corridor in front of two massive double doors and took his time about opening them, like Max might need time to compose himself before he saw what was on the other side. He didn’t.
Striding on, he gave the beanpole his empty beer bottle then swept him aside with one outstretched arm, so he could throw the doors open himself. He swaggered on in while sliding one hand into the opposite sleeve of his jacket.
There was a man at the head of the long table that probably had twenty places on each side of it. It was fucking laughable that this guy needed something so big for such a small party, and Max immediately wondered how fast he could fill the joint with his buddies from Fitzpatrick’s and how Stretton would cope when the guys got rowdy and the couples started copping off.
His girl feared this guy that was standing there now, staring at him like he didn’t know what to say, but Max wasn’t intimidated. The first thing he wanted to say was that Stretton should be grateful for the fuckable assistant he’d sent to retrieve him because if it wasn’t for that girl, Max wouldn’t have come within ten miles of this place.
Instead, he sauntered a few more steps into the room and pulled the bottle of Cuervo from inside his sleeve. “Wanna hit a few shots?” he asked, holding up the liquor.
The guy at the table stepped back, like maybe he’d been slapped, but Max knew he wasn’t that fucking lucky. “I’m Theodore Stretton,” he said. Max had figured that out for himself, not that he’d say there was any family resemblance. “I’m your father.”
/> He ignored that declaration. “I thought you uptight fucks were all about minding your manners,” he said, twisting the cap from his bottle. “Don’t matter, I’d only have been faking it if you gave me a glass. I prefer it this way.”
Putting the bottle to his mouth, Max tipped his head back to down a few mouthfuls of the liquid that reminded him of the first time he’d laid lips on his girl.
“This is unorthodox, I expected—”
“Manners,” Max said, inhaling and smacking his lips when he lowered the bottle. Tossing the lid to the floor, he sauntered deeper into the room. “Take a good look, this is what happens when daddy spunks and splits.” Opening his arms for a second, he was just buzzed enough to laugh before grabbing a chair and dropping into it. “Ah, I’m fucking with you Teddy… I don’t give a shit, Cindy used to scrub up nice; I get it.” He slapped a hand on his stomach. “Let’s eat! I’m starved. What have we got? Quail or some shit?”
“Steak, the finest,” Stretton said, seating himself. “But we’re waiting for the other two members of our party before we begin.”
“Right, don’t worry, this will keep me going,” Max said, swigging more liquid.
Stretton was still blinking at him. Max figured he was supposed to be the curious one, the one in awe, but he just didn’t give a fuck about this guy or his flashy house and his fancy company.
“A gentleman should have composure,” Teddy said.
He could see the sneer forming on the old man’s face. Usually seeing anyone turn their nose up would make Max want to beat their brains in. This guy was no better than him; no amount of money could make that happen.
But just when he was about to say that, he thought about his girl. She valued her place here and that was the only reason he’d shown up; he couldn’t fuck up her life.
Gritting his teeth, he put the bottle on the table and pushed it away. “He should,” Max said, though it pained him to agree with this bastard who kept his employees on such tight leashes. “But I’m not like you…” He gestured to the room. “This isn’t life for me. In my world a guy has to be tough or other guys take from him, you get me?”
Stretton nodded once, seating himself and folding his hands on the table. “You’re bold, and aggressive, neither are bad qualities. This will be your life, I promise you that. No matter what it takes, we’ll make sure it happens. You don’t need theatrics to prove yourself to me. You were born for this, born to learn from me. I see you have pride, and you know how to be a dominant force. You have everything you need, Max, all the basics. It’s in your blood; there’s no denying it.”
Breathing in, Max suppressed a belch and squinted at the guy sitting at the head of the table. “If you’re coming onto me, I gotta tell you, you’re not my type.”
With a smile, Stretton rose and started toward him. “I can see Cindy in you.” It surprised Max that the sound of his mother’s name on Stretton’s lips made his fingers curl. “She didn’t suffer fools.” When Stretton got to him, he slapped a hand on his shoulder. “You are just what Stretton Chemicals needs. You’re strong and unapologetic… the rest, that will come, I’ll teach you how to conduct yourself. In time, you’ll be the man you should’ve been from the start. I’ll free your potential.”
Sounded like some New Age shit to him, but Max tipped his chin to look at the guy whose expression was creeping him out. Maybe the booze was dulling his senses, but there was a real happiness, and an optimism shimmering around this guy, even if he was king of the pole-up-the-ass gang.
Stretton slapped his shoulder again, proving he didn’t know much about touching other guys without their permission. If Stretton tried this in Fitzpatrick’s, he’d be wearing his drink and swallowing his teeth within sixty seconds.
A door opened, and two more people came in. Their conversation died the moment they saw him. The woman was the first to smile, and it didn’t take much for Max to realize she was a woman in heat. But fuck her, if that was the ho his girl had told him about, he wasn’t going near her. Not that he’d be going near her anyway, he had the only woman he needed in his life.
The guy with her was a weaselly-looking sort. The disgust and annoyance on his face made Max want to smile; that fucker thought he was competition and he wasn’t going to disabuse him of that idea. It would be fun to play with the guy some.
“Heath and Blair,” Stretton said. “Let me introduce my son, Max Flynn… my heir.”
Max caught a glimpse of the Cuervo bottle from the corner of his eye just as Stretton began to cajole him up to shake the hands of these two new people. The woman, skinny bitch with a triangle head and no tits, held on longer than he liked, but even when he tried to pull his hand away, she clung tighter, pressing her shiny talons into the back of his hand.
“Mr. Flynn, it is a pleasure,” she said, batting her lashes. “I didn’t expect you to be so tall.”
And he didn’t expect her to be so obvious. Those words were about to slip from his mouth when the reminder of his girl slipped in. He couldn’t be rude, he didn’t care about fucking this up for himself, but he couldn’t fuck it up for Tally.
Biting his tongue, he told himself to say the opposite of what he wanted to say for the rest of the night and say nothing if he couldn’t think of anything that didn’t include a curse word.
“I didn’t expect to meet Stretton’s friends.” There, he figured his girl couldn’t be mad at him for that.
“Please, let’s everyone sit,” Stretton said. “We have much to discuss and plans to make.”
Maybe this could work out for him, if Heath and Blair were here, Max figured he’d be expected to say very little. He’d eat what they gave him, nod, and sit quietly until he could get the hell out of here.
Then first chance he got to get his hands on his girl, he was going to make sure she showed him just how damn grateful she was for putting him through this dog and pony show.
Damn woman had him pussy-whipped already, but keeping her happy did something to him, and it wasn’t something he wanted to lose. Not yet. Maybe not ever. He was doing this for her and if he would go this far, he doubted there was anything she wouldn’t be able to make him do.
EIGHT
It was after ten-thirty at night when Tally got the page. Dinner had to be over and maybe this was her being called in for a debrief. Had Max said something about them or did Teddy have another task for her? Hopefully it wasn’t another illegitimate child.
She wiped her face with her towel and hooked it around her neck as she ran up the stairs. Tugging her headphones from her ears, she caught the wire and picked up the pace. Teddy didn’t like to wait, especially at this time of night when he might be thinking about retiring to bed.
Tally knocked on the drawing room door and stepped inside. Instantly, she slowed. Teddy was here, as were Kimmy, Blair, Heath, and a glaring Max. So, dinner was over, but the party was still going on… kind of.
“Sir?” she asked, drawing her eyes off Max, who hadn’t looked at her yet, to look at Teddy.
“You were in the gym?” Teddy asked.
She glanced down at her shorts and racer-back top. “Yes, sir.”
He scowled at her. “I do wish you’d do that in your own time.”
This was embarrassing, but she should’ve known better than to make assumptions. If Teddy had been alone, he probably wouldn’t have noticed what she was wearing. But, showing up dressed like this, in front of company, even if it was just Max, was an affront as far as her employer was concerned.
“Of course, sir,” she said. “I apologize.”
“When is her time?” Max asked, fixated on the dark bourbon in his heavy-base glass.
Everyone else was surprised by the abrupt question. “Three AM to five,” she muttered then spoke up to Teddy. “Sir, I got a page, is there something—”
“I need the Abacus files,” he said. “You’ll need to go into the office.”
A request like this wasn’t unusual. It was less typical at this time of night, but
she’d gone into the office at all hours. Except if this was a social function, she didn’t quite understand why they were addressing business. If Teddy was trying to seduce Max by giving him the impression that he was being let in on family affairs, he was going the wrong way about it.
“Yes, sir, but…” She paused and inhaled, gathering her courage before being presumptuous. “The Abacus files are in the third-floor archive.”
Telling him he was wrong might not be well received, but Tally knew she was right
But, Teddy sort of glossed over her comment. “Yes, Pierre will—”
“No, sir,” she said, asserting herself. “The third-floor archive here at the house.”
He was surprised and glanced at Heath who shrugged. “They were moved in the flush?” Heath asked her.
Everyone seemed twitchy, but Tally guessed that made sense. Max was out of his element, which would make him tense and probably angry. Heath didn’t want Max here at all. Blair probably wanted to make a move on the newest associate but wouldn’t be able to in this room full of people.
No doubt Teddy had figured out by now that Max wasn’t as malleable as he might have liked his heir to be, so his mood was probably fraught.
Still, she was here to do a job, not speculate or interfere. “Yes, sir, Mr. Cable.”
“Did you make the Whittaker call today?” Kimmy snapped.
Always ready to make herself known, Kimmy liked to interject as often as she could. Tally was sure it made the woman feel important.
“Yes, Miss Stretton, I’m awaiting confirmation on the discount negotiations.”
Kimmy huffed. “If you hadn’t been missing for half the day, we’d have an answer.”
Reminding Tally of where she’d woken up and why she’d spent half the day AWOL wasn’t wise given the company they were in. But still, Max didn’t even look at her.
“Yes, miss,” Tally said and backed away toward the door. “I’ll retrieve the files. Unless there’s anything else, sir?”
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