The Billionaire's Proposition (The Romero Brothers, Book 4) (2 page)

Only Carl’s body was pumped with adrenaline
right now. He was feeling anything but light or amused.

“So you’re trying to say that Leechwood
would make a better mayor than me because he has a wife and kids? You’ve seen
how many times in the past he’s been in the papers for cheating on his wife.
It’s good that she openly forgave him but the guy’s a creep,” Carl continued,
pacing around the fireplace. His dress suit jacket opened up.

“I can’t believe the press isn’t on to that!”
Carl added, “The guy wants to raise property taxes, for Chrissake! He thinks
it’s better that hard working people foot the bill for a mismanaged city instead
of taking it from the surplus and the reserve we never use. I have it all
figured out. I can do this and save the city and taxpayers a crap load of money
so that nobody has to go to bed at night wondering how the hell to pay their
bills.”

“Carl, you are so right. I admire your
passion, grandson. That’s why I want you to be successful, as much as I don’t
like the dirty games of politics. But we sure could use someone like you in
office.”

“Good. I’m glad you agree! I don’t need to
get hitched to prove anything to anyone. I have a campaign to organize. I’m not
going to waste another minute talking about a dead topic like getting married.
It’s done with. I’m not marriage material.”

“Oh, nonsense!” Toni snapped. “Carl, your
brother Jules is right for a change.”

“Hey,” Jules feigned being offended.

“Being married shows stability and
commitment,” Toni continued. “I know you are committed and stable. But, it’s
not enough to do the right thing,
Carl,
one must also
appear
to be doing the right thing in
life. I know it’s not fair, but that’s how the world of politics works. But
never mind that; I know you won’t regret the joys of being in love and married.
And look at your cousin, Antonio. He said the same thing about marriage,” Toni
continued, “and now he is happily married to that nice wedding planner girl,
Lucy. And don’t tell me you don’t love your adorable little cousin, Alexander.”

“You know I love my cousin, Gramps!”

“You see
,
it’s all
about family. Family is the magical key that opens doors.
The
building blocks of a healthy society.
We all need love. Love is good for
us.
It’s more than that
,
it’s
essential
! Heck, Antonio was even dead set
against me
and Shelly getting married
. Yet here we are, married. My fifth marriage!
And I’m happier now. And then your brother Lucas got married to Maxine. That
was beautiful. Though they eloped in Vegas,” he frowned.

“Now look at your brother Zack.” Toni
grinned widely. “Zack surprised the sweet Jesus out of all of us. I never
thought he would have settled down. He had a different girlfriend every three
months it seemed. He would change them with the season.”

Pamela chuckled then quickly wiped the grin
off her face.

“And don’t tell me you didn’t have a nice
time in Jamaica.”

“Granddad, I did. And good for Antonio,
Lucas and Zack, but it’s not for me.”

“And don’t forget, your cousin Christian is
now engaged to that nice girl who owned the resort where we had the wedding.”

Carl frowned. He drew in a deep breath and
gazed out at the breathtaking views of the hills and all its greenery outside
the French glass doors of the study.

“If it’s any help, Carl,” Pamela
interjected, “I have the results of the latest opinion poll about what voters
expect in the next election. Do you want to hear it?”

“No. Not really,” Carl dismissed with a
raised brow. His lips were slightly curled up at the side. He knew Pamela
didn’t fear any of the brothers. She was young and ambitious and worked for
them long enough to know she need not tiptoe around them. Not only that. She
was damned good at her job and had saved their public butts on many occasions.
She was going to tell him the results anyway.

“Well, the results were,”
Pamela
said quietly, ignoring his earlier response, “voters were
unanimous with their main criteria. Family-oriented, family-friendly
candidate.” She then turned to Carl. “Carl, I’m afraid your grandfather’s
right. We know you’d make the best mayor this town has ever had but right now
you have two strikes against you. You’re single—and attractive! And you
don’t have a family of your own.”

“She’s right, my boy. I know you young men
have accomplished much on your own and you know your way around your own
business but trust me on this one. Your old grandfather is never wrong in
regards to these things.”

“So what do you want me to do, Granddad?”
he said, turning his attention back to the group. He was beyond fed up. “Go out
and buy me a wife and kid?” he continued with a trace of playful sarcasm.
“Perhaps I can charge that transaction to my business account under public
image. Do you think I’ll be able to write it off on my taxes?”

“Now, Carl,” Toni scolded, his voice raised
a fraction.

Pamela burst out laughing then quieted
herself quickly, clearing her throat.

“Sorry,” Carl said, “I didn’t mean to sound
so…”
Sarcastic?
A devilish thought
struck Carl. Could he really buy a family? Pay someone to pose as his doting
wife? Nah! He couldn’t do it. That would be dishonest, and didn’t voters value
integrity? He wanted to win this race so bad.
But not that
bad.
He wanted to do what those darned opponents didn’t want to do—make
life easier for working class people.
Lower taxes for
residents so they could afford to support their families.

No. He was not going to play into political
mud-slinging
. Politics was deadly. And it could be
even deadlier when one wasn’t up front about everything.

“Where are you going, Carl?” his
grandfather queried as Carl grabbed his keys from the table.

“To work. We have some new equipment coming
in to the gym.”

“I said earlier that I’d handle it, Carl.
I’ve just got to meet with that supplier from Buffalo,” Jules interjected.

“It’s okay, Jules. I’ve got it covered.”

Carl then thanked everyone who had turned
up this morning to meet and discuss how he was going to deal with this latest
debacle in the headline. “I need to clear my mind. To think,” he continued, his
voice hard and low.

“Carl, do you want me to go ahead with the
statement we talked about?” Pamela asked.

“No. Not yet. I…I haven’t officially
announced my run yet. Right now, I think, no response is the best response.
We’ll strike back with something better.”

“Hey, Carl, I’ll have our boys look into
who’s behind printing up all this junk about you,” Jules interjected. The
Romeros had their own private detective agency that handled certain situations
they often encountered. Least was they often vetted everyone who worked around
or near the family. They rarely took chances with business associates … or
competitors. “I’m pretty sure it’s Leechwood. That’s usually his style. He’s as
mean and dirty as they come.
 
He’s
been known to set up his past opponents and competitors in his business
dealings.”

“I know,” Carl said, his jaw clenched. He
could taste the bitterness on his tongue, at the mere mention of that man’s
name. Leechwood. His nemesis.

“I’ll see you guys later,” Carl continued. “Pamela,
I’ll be in touch with you this afternoon.”

With those words, Carl strode out of the
study.

“Hey, bro, are you taking the chopper into
Toronto?” his brother Jules called out to him. The Romeros were one of few
families that owned a helipad on their sprawling estate. Often as an
alternative to the long commute into the city of Toronto from Mayberry Hill.
They owned several lakefront condominiums in addition to several skyscrapers on
Bay Street in the business district—often dubbed the Wall Street of
Toronto. No surprise since Toni Romero was a real estate mogul who owned
properties and land all over the nation and even some internationally.
 

“Nah. I’m good. I’m driving in. I need to
think.”

“Don’t think and drive, bro. Could be
dangerous.”

Carl rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Whatever.”

*
    
*
    
*

Later, Carl drove along the main road in
his convertible. He knew his sports car was one luxury that probably had to go,
he thought to himself as the summer wind rustled his hair. A young dude like
himself driving a luxury convertible would probably send the wrong message to
voters.

What was with him? Why did he give a damn
what others thought of him? His car had voice-activated controls and he ordered
for Venus, his assistant, to be called. Venus was a together, young woman who
worked hard as hell. She was all too eager to work with him on his upcoming
campaign. She was a single mother with a two-year-old.
An odd
girl.
Quiet, hard working, efficient and always saying a kind word, but
distant at times. He would often catch her ogling him but then she would turn
her attention elsewhere while blushing whenever their eyes locked.

And man, she was hot. A surge of heat shot
through his body thinking of her on their recent trip to Jamaica and how well
she filled out her bathing suit while on the beach. Her glowing, tanned
complexion, dark, silky, long, thick hair and large brown eyes captivated Carl the
most. She was one of the finest women he’d ever set eyes on and yet she never
flaunted her assets. And man, what an ass she had. She had a petite waistline
that accentuated her wide, curvy hips. Carl was getting hard thinking about
her.

He tried to squash the thought of anything
that could arouse him sexually right now. He had other things he should be
thinking about—like his upcoming bid for mayor.

Focus, Carl
.

Carl had noticed in the past that Venus’s defenses
always seemed to go up whenever he would ask about her family in Kansas or from
wherever it was that she had travelled. She was originally from some island in
the Mediterranean but rarely spoke about that.

An odd thought crossed his mind. She had
been struggling for so long and…he wondered if she would…? No. He wasn’t even
going to entertain that thought. Heck, he could win this campaign on his own
merit. Without a wife and kid.

For some reason, Carl took a detour off the
main road and maneuvered down Chancery Lane. His heart was beating thunderously
in his chest, bashing against his rib cage. It was almost painful for him to
breathe. He pulled up to the curb of number 123. It was a white brick bungalow.
Three bedrooms, one and a half bathrooms.
He looked
over at the side and could still see the tree that had been carved with some
initials.

Carl got out of his car and leaned against
it. His vision blurred with tears of pain, his lips pinched together into a
thin line.
 

Memories.

Painful, unbearable
memories.

He remembered as a youngster, looking out
at the window at top. His father had just gotten home from work, dread in his
eyes. His mother, who was battling breast cancer, had been suffering from depression.
She did her best with her boys. Dad had just lost his job. They were already
behind in payments at the bank.

But property taxes had risen, and even if
Dad had another job, there was no way in hell he could pay what he owed the
municipal government.

It was right there in that very spot where
his car was parked across the street that he and his brothers and his parents
watched as their home was auctioned off. They had nowhere to go.

His eyes were blurry with salty moisture.

Carl’s family had lost their home. Soon
after that, they had agonizingly lost their precious mother.

Did the local government even care or
assist them in time? Dad did his best. No one could have stepped in to help
them at the time. They had a cousin in Virginia but that was a long shot. She
couldn’t take in his father, not with seven young boys.

Carl wiped his eyes, his anger still
seething through his body.

He was damned if he was going to let that
scene play out again, whether with himself or another family.

The address at 123 Chancery Lane was one of
a few homes they’d had. Their father’s car was another home until authorities
stepped in. Then they lived in a low-income housing project down the street at
number 490 Chancery Lane in apartment 14A. They’d all crammed into that little
crap place. Though they were thankful to be out of the old minivan. So they
ended up going to the same school, as difficult as that was. But they’d always
hoped they would have gotten their home back. That never happened.

Carl glanced at his watch. He didn’t know
what shot through his body in that moment. But it was a high-powered electrical
surge that raced through his blood and pumped some idea into his head!

He changed his mind. Coming down memory
lane, as painful as it was, was an omen, he mused.
A good
omen.