The Billionaire's Proposition (The Romero Brothers, Book 4)

by Richards, Shadonna

  A tsunami of thoughts washed through Carl’s mind, raising the tide of his emotions. Venus rushed into his mind as well. Sweet innocent Venus, and the hell she’d gone through in her life coming from an impoverished background and living in a society that would not or could not help her. The impact of learning what had happened to her in the past sent shockwaves searing through his body.

  And then, there was that Achilles heel of his, Eduardo Meritos. Since Carl had returned to Canada, his mind was obsessed with thoughts of getting even with Eduardo, making sure he paid dearly for what he’d done to Venus—and her family. Still no good news on his whereabouts but Jules assured Carl that leads were in place and they were getting closer to the mystery surrounding Meritos’s escape.

  Carl pulled up to the curb at 490 Chancery Lane to make his monthly stop. He often came by that address. His brothers and he lived at number 123 and lost that home. He switched off the ignition and reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. Another large check was inside it. He wasn’t quite up front with Venus either, even though they had a marriage contract. He didn’t want Venus to know about Clarissa. Not yet. He would tell Venus when the time was right. She had way too much on her mind at the moment. He only hoped that now that he was running for office, Clarissa would not come public about their—little agreement.

  Carl exited the car and looked around. The road was quiet at this time of the day. It was almost the noon hour. He opened the side entrance of the building. Luckily, another resident, an older man, was entering at the same time. He slipped in behind the man. Carl then scooted up to apartment 14A. He stood outside the door, hesitant for a moment, his jaw clenched. He could feel pain stabbing his chest. His eyes stung from moisture. He drew in a deep breath and placed the envelope on the ground before sliding it through the gap at the bottom of the door. He looked around to see if anyone had seen him.

  He then walked out casually, as casually as he could considering that he was walking through a low-income building and yet, dressed in an expensive gray suit and silk blue tie. He surely didn’t look like he belonged there.

  It was time to face the cameras.

  “So, it is official then,” Breena, the Channel 31 News at Noon host, commented to the cameras in the studio. Carl sat in the guest chair adjacent to her. “Businessman Carl Romero has just filed his formal nomination papers yesterday morning amid considerable media attention. Mr. Romero is here with us today to answer a few questions.”

  Breena then turned her attention to Carl. “Welcome to News at Noon, Mr. Romero. So glad you could join us today. I know you must be extremely busy right now.”

  “Glad to be here, Breena, but please, call me Carl.”

  “Okay, so, Carl, first, let’s begin with the first thing you’d like to do if you got into office,” Breena adjusted the pink glasses on her face, looking pointedly at Carl. She was an eclectic commentator. He’d been watching her for years. She can be grilling one minute and nice the next. A well-educated journalist with a master’s degree in political science from Harvard.

  “Well, Breena, the first thing is to freeze property taxes. For the past several years property taxes have been going up yet incomes have remained stagnant. I promise that property taxes will not go up this year. We can make deep cuts to city spending, which is far too excessive.”

  She nodded thoughtfully. “Right. But you do realize that your opponents have made it clear that you’ll need to cut back on valuable municipal services in order to accommodate a property tax freeze?”

  “Breena, people want an end to annual tax hikes and they want an end to unnecessary, wasteful spending. There are services that are underused and other services that require much attention. It’s all about balancing the budgets and making sure that taxpayers come first and don’t end up with unfair expenses.”

  “Okay. And what is something you can do to help make the city more affordable?”

  “We need to create additional better paying jobs and build more affordable housing. Period. We have plenty of vacant plots in the city that would be perfect.”

  “Now, speaking of plots. It’s true that you come from one of the most prominent real estate dynasties in the province. Wouldn’t this be a conflict of interest?”

  “Oh, no. My grandfather came here as an immigrant and worked tirelessly from an impoverished childhood into a successful businessman and he gave us plenty of insight into working hard to make our own ways in life, not relying on what he’s accomplished. He has nothing to do with this. I assure you, we never have ridden on his coattails.”

  “Right, and you grew up in quite a modest, or should I say, challenging family situation before you came to know your famous grandfather, Antonio Romero.”

  “Yes. My parents had it hard. My mother spent a great deal of life battling cancer that…” Carl swallowed hard. He had to shift his focus on to the issues. Not on his personal life. “…took her from us,” he finished his sentence quietly, fighting to keep his voice calm. “My father ended up losing his job and between that and the property taxes, it was all too much and-”

  “You ended up homeless,” Breena was all too eager to finish the sentence for him. She had a look of amazement on her face. “Wow, it’s such an incredible rags to riches story.”

  “Well, not rags to riches, Breena. It’s all about perseverance. It’s about getting that break. We got a break and we…I want to give taxpayers a break, too. There are currently too many people losing their homes because of property taxes going through the roof, as high as seven percent a year. That’s ridiculous. Meanwhile, services that are not being used are getting all kinds of money thrown at them.” Determination flooded through Carl. “When I’m in office, I’m going to put an end to this mindless misuse of people’s hard earned monies and put it where it belongs. With the people. For the people.”

  Breena nodded, her brow arched slightly. “Oh, we have a caller. Yes, you’re live on the air, caller number one.”

  “H-hi. Am I on the air?” a gruff voice sounded over the speakerphone on the coffee table in front of the host and Carl.

  “Yes, you sure are. Do you have a question for our candidate, Carl Romero?”

  “Um. Yeah. My name is Dave. I work in a factory. Um…this Carl guy. He’s so rich and good looking and famous. What does he know about being a hardworking struggling family man? I have three kids, a wife, and two cats. One of my cats needs surgery. How can we possibly afford that? Sure, Carl makes all these promises. But what does he care if he can’t deliver? And what about the crime rate in the city? What’s he gonna do about that?” The caller was clearly worked up.

  “I’m afraid that’s too many questions, Dave. You can only pose one question at a time,” Breena interjected.

  The caller’s words stung Carl for some reason. He knew it would be difficult. He was the youngest contender, and true, the past decade was good for him compared to his earlier life.

  “Well, Dave, I can answer a couple of your questions. I know we’re pressed for time right now. I’m truly sorry about your situation and your cat.” Carl genuinely was. Carl’s family dog, a golden retriever named Louis, had died soon after his mother passed away and the heartache never went away. They couldn’t afford vet care at the time.

  “I can tell you this,” Carl continued, his gut ached thinking about Venus and the pain she’d gone through inadvertently forced to work for a guy who ended up being a dangerous crime lord in her town. “My office will be working with members of the community, the police services, and the schools to talk about the wave of gun violence in the city’s west end and cleaning up the streets. We need to combat this rash of events we’ve seen recently. And we will.”

  “I sure hope so.” The man sounded dubious.

  “And, Dave, if you leave your phone number, I’ll have someone from my office contact you regarding vet services. There are foundations my family sponsors to help fund lower-income families so they can keep their pets, whether it be for basic necessities
like food or situations like yours where surgeries are out of reach. My staff can point you in the right direction.”

  Breena looked shocked.

  “You’ll help me?”

  “Yes. I will. Every resident is important to me. Every family. I want people to know that they can reach me 24/7 and I’ll be there, or I’ll have my assistant take care of things. You will be heard. Your situation will get my full attention.”

  “Well…uh…okay,” the man sounded as astonished as Breena looked.

  Carl was sure he was probably breaking some sort of unwritten code, but damn it, he couldn’t help himself. And this had nothing to do with votes. He vowed that when he and his brothers fought their way out of poverty they would help others whenever or however it was possible. Give back. Their mother had always raised them that way, even when they didn’t have much growing up. Always be a giver. Always look for ways to be a blessing to others. It might have sounded corny then, but heck, he lived by those words. The caller was right; he had a heck of a lot of advantages over the average taxpayer. Why in God’s name wouldn’t he want to help make somebody else’s burden a little lighter, if he were in a position to do so?

  “Okay, that’s all the time we have for today,” Breena concluded. “Carl, thank you so much for joining us here today. We’ll no doubt see much more of you and your opponents as the campaign gets underway.”

  Carl’s heart thumped hard in his chest. He’d faced cameras before but not like this. Not a live show. He glanced over to the side. Standing by the cameras, his brother Jules gave him a thumbs-up. Jules insisted on heading down to the studio with him for moral support. Toni wanted to be there, but he decided against it as he didn’t want the wrong signal to be given. This was about Carl Romero, mayoral candidate, not Carl Romero, grandson of affluent tycoon Toni (Antonio) Romero, one of the wealthiest real estate moguls in the world.

  “Yes, Breena, you will see more of me,” Carl said with determination set in his voice.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  This was one heck of a long day, Carl thought to himself as he pulled up to his modest four-bedroom home he now shared with Venus. The house was located in the suburbs in a quiet neighbourhood in Mayberry Hill.

  Funny thing was he couldn’t wait to get home to lovely Venus. What was it about seeing her sweet smile, her large beautiful brown eyes, gazing lovingly into his eyes? He kept reminding himself this was not going to last, so he shouldn’t get too attached. Venus was doing a job—as his wife. Nothing more. It was just a job, right? But damn, did she ever seem so genuine. Why did it feel like anything but a job?

  He’d given so many interviews and talked to countless reporters. It was crazy. His mind was weary. His body ached, and this time it wasn’t from lifting weights at the gym. In fact, he didn’t even get to spend much time there this past week. Something he was going to have to incorporate into his increasingly busy schedule.

  Heck, running a full-blown corporation was one thing, but running for public office? Jeez! He wouldn’t wish this type of stress on his worst enemy!

  He parked the car and switched off the ignition. It was evening. Where did the time go? He knew that Venus was busy during the day doing administrative hand-over at the R.M. Fitness headquarters so that she could spend more time in his campaign office. God bless her. What would he do without her?

  “Honey,” Carl called out when he entered through the white French doors to their residence. The home was warm and inviting. Cozy. The hardwood floors were spotless. They were genuine red oak. The windows were double glazed. They had a long driveway of pavers leading up to the main house. The house had everything including the proverbial white picket fence.

  The aroma of baked honey chicken and warm apple pie wafted to his nostrils, soothing his senses and arousing his hunger. But he wasn’t just hungry for food.

  Had he just taken a turn down memory lane? Why did he feel as if he’d just taken a turn down Leave it to Beaver lane? Only a modern-day version of that old black-and-white TV show from the late 1950s.

  That was just what he needed right now. He heard the sound of dishes in the kitchen. “Oh, hi, Carl,” Venus sung out, wiping down the warm-brown marble stone counter.

  “Hey,” he said, instinctively wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and kissing her softly on her neck and cheek, inhaling the smooth scent of her shampooed hair. She gushed and nestled into his chest. What was he doing? They were supposed to be a pretend couple—not a real one. Whatever that meant. Then why was he feeling so connected to her? Why couldn’t he wait for the day to be done so that he could embrace her and take good care of her? What was with him? Had the pressure of being a public figure usurped his senses? Yet, he couldn’t help himself.

  “I told you, baby,” he said, whispering in her ears. “It’s my turn to do the dishes. In fact, I don’t care how long I stay at the office. Let me do the dishes for a month.”

  She grinned and turned around facing him. “Carl. Why?” Venus giggled as he nibbled on her ear. “I get home before you.”

  “So what? You work hard at the office,” he refuted.

  “So do you, hon. Really, I don’t mind.”

  Much like Britain’s Prince William and his lovely wife, Kate, Carl and Venus decided to forgo having a huge entourage of house staff. They wanted to be intimate and do most chores themselves, enjoying each other’s company. Just because they could afford a maid and butler, didn’t mean they wanted to.

  “Hey,” he said, lifting her chin up with his finger. “I don’t want you to think you have to do any of the work in here. I live here too. Shared responsibility, remember? We’re equal partners. In fact, I want to be the one to take good care of you,” he said and a jolt of electricity ran to his heart. Venus had done nothing but make sacrifices to everyone in her life. Taking care of her family back home. Adopting her brother and being the best damn mother to a child anyone could hope for and now—she sacrificed a lot so that Carl could run for mayor. How could he not worship her? She was all heart and soul. Here she had a lot in her life to be bitter about—thinking the world owed her much and all she wanted to do was make it better for others around her.

  A sick feeling slid into Carl’s gut. He could never let her go. Not now. Not even after the year. She was his close companion and his most fierce supporter. She was golden. Solid. Heck, they’d had great sex every night since they got hitched in Vegas. The sex was amazing! Venus enjoyed trying new things and being pleasured by him in so many erotic ways. There was a radiant glow about her personality, her beauty, her charm. Her beautiful personality shone through her and made her even more breathtaking to his eyes and his soul. Everything about Venus was exceptional. Her subtle sexiness captivated him.

  Admittedly, his life would not be the same without her. His grandfather was right. Having love in your life was one of the best things that could happen to a person. They were not playing house. They were a real family. For the past week, they’d taken turns reading a bedtime story to Tristan and Venus would take over singing his favorite lullaby. It was heartwarming. Just as his mother had done for him and his brothers when they were growing up—before her health took a turn for the worse and she was taken from them permanently. He felt like a real father to Tristan and a real husband to Venus. None of that was phony. It was all real to him, right from his heart and soul.

  He really meant it. Old-fashioned as it was, Carl really wanted to take good care of her. Always.

  “You were wonderful today on the news show, honey.” She reached her arms up to hug his neck and pull him closer to her. Her beautiful, recently-coifed dark hair shone under the kitchen light and his nose enjoyed the fragrance of her lilac-scented shampoo. The aroma soothed his senses. She pressed her breasts to his chest and his body reacted. He lowered his lips to hers and softly kissed her. His groin reacted.

  “Thank you,” he said appreciatively. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “Without me?” She kissed him, intermi
ttently. “But, Carl, I didn’t do anything,” she whispered breathlessly.

  “Oh, but you did. You gave me those tips on doing a sit down interview. You know how much I hate cameras.”

  And he was right. Carl found the whole thing damn near nerve-racking. But Venus had coached him over the past week while they were naked in bed, of course. Well, hey, he needed a relaxing environment—and he always felt totally cool in bed.

  She’d told him the old trick everyone used. Picturing everybody—the interviewer and all the cameramen—naked, which didn’t help all that much. In fact, he tried not to picture them that way.

  Then, the most important thing was that she’d gone over some gruelling questions with Carl, rehearsing backlash and rebuttals. The last thing he would have wanted was to be caught off guard and thrown off his game. His opponents would have loved for that to happen. They already called him out on being a rich boy who was out of touch with reality. Carl had many strengths and could often speak on the spot and come up with all kinds of intelligent comebacks. But there was just something about those darned TV cameras that irked the hell out of him. This was all to do with childhood, when authorities got involved and they’d made the local news: Man living out of van with his sons. It was terrible. It had caused a sad media frenzy at the time. From the perspective of a little boy, seeing tons of TV camera equipment and gigantic microphones poking in your face, not to mention the daunting white flashes of cameras clicking away to capture images of them. It was all overwhelming at the very least. It was terrifying. Carl cringed thinking of that memory during a sad and dark segment of his childhood.

  He continued caressing Venus’s skin with his lips, planting sweet kisses down her shoulder and arm.