by Mari Carr
Perhaps he was even glad she was upholding it, and his apparent annoyance was based on the fact he’d had to drive her home tonight rather than in the morning.
Caitlyn’s mind whirled as she tried to come to grips with so many warring emotions. It felt like twenty years had passed since she’d left home a few hours earlier.
As they pulled up in front of the pub, Caitlyn reached for the door handle, ready to sprint from the vehicle.
“Thanks for—”
Lucas grasped her wrist firmly, halting her escape. “Three days.”
“What?”
“I’m giving you three days to get your shit together. To figure out and accept something that you already know, even if you don’t want to admit it.”
Caitlyn lifted her chin, trying to give the appearance of a boldness she didn’t feel. “And what’s that?”
“This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.”
Chapter Six
Lucas sat with his back to his office door, to his desk, to his computer. Hell, he’d turned his back on everything except the view from his twenty-fifth-floor window.
He was on day two of three, and kicking himself for giving Caitlyn so much time. Actually he never should have driven her home that night to begin with. If he’d been thinking clearly, he would have dragged her back to his bed, tied her to it and fucked her until she realized…
Realized what?
The answer to that question was why he’d driven her home. He had been just as confused, just as blindsided as she’d been. Lucas didn’t do relationships. He didn’t do commitment. And he sure as fuck didn’t do love.
Yet every fiber of his being told him he could very easily do all three of those things with Caitlyn. So he was smart to put some distance and time between them. At least, that’s what he’d been telling himself for the past—he glanced at his watch—thirty-seven hours.
“Where do we stand on the Sunnyside project?”
Lucas spun his chair toward the door and his father’s voice. “I spoke to the foreman. They’re two days behind schedule due to the weather.”
Dad scowled. “Tell him to make that time up or it’s coming out of his paycheck. What about the Collins building acquisition?”
The idea to purchase the building that housed Pat’s Pub, the accompanying restaurant and apartment above had been Lucas’s idea. Actually, the plan for that whole city block had been his. His father had actually tried to talk him out of the acquisition, claiming the area wasn’t lucrative enough. Lucas had insisted, and then persevered. He was very convincing when he wanted something and he’d done his work well. His father was now one hundred percent behind the purchase, which meant Caitlyn’s family had a snowball’s chance in hell of holding on to their business.
“I’m still in talks with the owners.”
His dad frowned. “What the hell does that mean? Did you make an offer?”
Lucas nodded. “I made the initial one. They refused.”
“Everyone refuses the first. What did they say when you countered?”
And this was where the shit was about to hit the fan. “I haven’t countered yet.”
Dad’s face reddened as he walked into his office, not stopping until he loomed above Lucas’s desk. Julius Whiting was a prime candidate for a heart attack, given his poor eating habits, stress levels and high blood pressure. Yet, none of that was impetus enough for him to scale back or strive for a healthier lifestyle. “What the hell are you waiting for?”
Lucas had considered this conversation nonstop since dropping Caitlyn off in front of the pub night before last. “I’m beginning to think you were right about that area. I’m not sure it’s financially profitable for us to pursue building there. It’s more rundown than I realized and the surrounding neighborhoods are rough.” Every word was a lie, and his father knew it.
They’d begun plans for gentrifying the area over a year earlier, and they’d made major inroads toward securing several of the other properties on the street. Whiting Properties intended to close down the current businesses, replacing them with high-end retail shops, creating a mirror image of Rodeo Drive in Baltimore.
The two buildings they’d purchased were already in the process of getting much-needed facelifts. The beauty parlor was going to become a Red Door Salon and Spa, ready to cater to a more sophisticated clientele. The pawnshop next door was about to be torn down to accommodate the spa part of the salon.
Next on their list was Pat’s Irish Pub. Plans were in place to gut the building and put in an exclusive French restaurant similar to Maison Pic in Paris. Lucas had actually been meeting with the architects they’d hired to design the new restaurant in the pub the night he met Caitlyn.
The first time he’d walked into Pat’s Pub, he had been surprised to discover it was even more charming on the inside than the out. It was the quaint setup out front that had caught Lucas’s eye one day when his limo had passed by and inspired his gentrification plans. He’d taken one look at the pub and known he wanted it. And for six months, he’d done his research on the Collins family, set up his chess pieces and organized the game plan for acquisition.
Then he’d met Caitlyn Wallace, and the game board had been upended.
“We’re gutting the building, Lucas. This is the beginning phase in a multi-year project. We’ve already grabbed three of the surrounding properties. They become worthless without the restaurant. You know that. So why don’t you tell me what this is really about?” His father’s voice grew louder and angrier as he spoke.
“I think we’d be smarter to take another look at that area on the east end again before we continue to snatch up more property in the pub neighborhood. That abandoned warehouse on the east end takes up the entire city block. One purchase and it’s done. And it’s in a better location for our plans. We can think of something else to do with those other small properties near the pub. Or we can off-load them.”
His father’s eyes narrowed and he leaned over the desk. “What the fuck is wrong with you? We’ve spent months and countless man-hours researching and planning this acquisition, not to mention the money we’ve already spent. We’re not dropping it. We’re not starting over.”
Lucas felt compelled to remind his father that this had been his project from the outset, but that argument, like his previous ones, would fall on deaf ears.
Dad lifted his finger. “If you can’t bring this deal home, I’ll find someone else who can.”
It was an empty threat and they both knew it. Lucas was the driving force when it came to acquisitions. It was what he did best.
His father’s strengths lie in greasing the wheels and cozying up to those in power.
Lucas crunched the numbers, made the offers, and closed the deals. If he ran into any issues, he had his father’s connections in his back pocket, although he tried hard not to call in those favors unless necessary. Mainly because his father—who oversaw construction and renovations once the properties had been acquired—sorely abused his connections with the power players when it came to zoning and building-code laws.
“I’m taking care of it.”
“I want that property by the end of the month.” His father walked away without another word. Lucas had learned a very long time ago to simply let his old man have the last word. It made life a hell of a lot easier.
Lucas glanced at the folder on his desk. It contained information he’d gathered on the Collins family over the past few months. It was the reason he’d turned his back on his desk earlier, opting for the view of the city.
Flipping open the folder, he saw a sketch of the Collins family tree his assistant had drawn up for him. They were a large brood, and with so many members of the family actively working in the pub, he’d spent quite a bit of time trying to piece out who was who, analyzing who might be most amenable to his offer, searching for a weak link.
What he’d found had been quite unlike anything he’d ever uncovered in past acquisitions. Typically, families with a successful b
usiness or property or even a little bit of money found ways to argue over it. Someone was always scrambling to grab the bigger piece of the pie.
That didn’t seem to hold true when it came to the Collins clan. When Patrick Collins decided to retire from the business and move in with his daughter, Riley, he divided the business into eight equal portions, giving one to each of his children while retaining an eighth for himself. When he passed away, the seven siblings would then divide the business by seven.
It was a simple setup that should have been fraught with problems. Four of the seven siblings worked in the pub. Caitlyn’s mom, Keira, and Ewan ran the restaurant, where Riley served as the cook. Meanwhile, Tristan took care of the pub side. The other siblings were silent partners with their own careers. Teagan was touring with her husband, Sky Mitchell, and Killian and Sean Collins ran a construction business with Killian’s life partner, Justin.
There were a lot of fingers in the pie, especially when he figured in the next generation. In addition to his seven children, Patrick had twelve grandchildren. More than a handful of them were now involved in the business too, and over half of them lived on the second floor of the building. It wasn’t natural for a family to be that close-knit, that tight. Yet it seemed to work for the Collinses.
Whiting Properties was made up of him and his father, and not a day passed where Lucas wasn’t aware of the fact that was one Whiting too many. He couldn’t begin to imagine working in a business with so many equal voices.
It should have been a simple matter for him to find the one disgruntled family member who wanted out. The one looking to make a quick buck, cut and run.
That hadn’t been the case.
Lucas had walked in, made his offer, and within seconds the wagons had circled, shotguns aimed in his direction, and he was left on the outside with no hope of breaking through.
After his initial defeat, he bided his time, did more reconnaissance, turned his attention away from the siblings and concentrated on the next generation. The twelve of them were all in their early twenties to early thirties, Caitlyn the oldest. He’d expected to find at least one of them with some sort of vice he could exploit—a drug problem, gambling debts, legal troubles. And again, he came up empty.
Except for Caitlyn.
He turned the pages until he found the picture his assistant had included with Caitlyn’s dossier. It was a professional portrait taken fairly recently that she used on the brochure to advertise the law firm she ran with Colm. He’d looked at that picture more often than he cared to admit prior to meeting her, and no less than a thousand times in the past two days.
Caitlyn.
A riddle wrapped in an enigma and buried within the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on.
She was independent and confident, yet at times she was as wary and scared as a kitten cornered by dogs.
She was fiercely loyal and devoted to her family which meant they would always be on opposite sides as long as the battle for the pub remained. His father wouldn’t be swayed from the acquisition, which meant it fell to Lucas to find a way to make the deal more appealing to Caitlyn’s family.
Her sexuality was a perfect mirror image to his. Her submissive tendencies were in direct counterpoint to his dominant needs. She didn’t want a master any more than he wanted a slave. Typically, he had no problem separating sex from emotion, but that line had been blurred with Caitlyn.
He had actually believed he could take her home, issue a bunch of commands, bring them both to a pleasurable conclusion, and then convince her to continue the affair. He thought his feelings would never become engaged.
Why the hell would he think they would be? They’d never reared their ugly head in the past.
Because the women he’d dated had always reminded him too much of his mother. Women who valued the wealth and prestige he offered. Caitlyn wasn’t interested in either.
He’d been touched by the compassion she’d shown when they talked about his brother’s death. He’d been flattered by the genuine interest she’d shown in getting to know him better. He’d been amused by her wit. The woman was seriously funny. People didn’t joke around with him. Probably because they assumed he was like his dad—humorless, intense, angry.
Sycophants surrounded him day in and day out. Caitlyn didn’t bow down, didn’t want anything from him. She was a challenge. With her, he felt a strong desire to prove himself, to earn her respect, her submission, her trust. To be on the receiving end of that same goddamned unwavering loyalty she gave to her family.
He wanted her to like him.
Even though he knew it was right for Caitlyn to walk away. He knew that as surely as he knew he was going to be knocking on her door tomorrow night.
For the first time in his life, Lucas didn’t have a plan. He was walking blindly into a deal with no currency, no reserves on the bench and very little hope of winning.
And he was still going to knock on her door.
“Feel like some company for dinner? It’s my break time.”
Caitlyn looked up and tried to muster a smile for her mom. “Sure.”
She’d come home from work half an hour earlier, but couldn’t summon the energy to climb the stairs to her apartment. Probably because, while she’d been subjected to the third degree about her date from four of her cousins, there were still too many to go. They’d managed to pull together for her intervention prior to the date, but they’d made no effort to rally afterwards. Which meant she’d had to answer the same questions every time one of her cousins managed to catch up with her.
It was getting harder to pretend that nothing of significance had happened and that she’d come up empty-handed with her spying.
Mom placed the dinner special—shepherd’s pie—in front of her and then claimed the other side of the booth.
“You’re not eating?” Caitlyn asked.
“Your dad is stopping by after his last class and we’re going to have a late dinner together. Riley’s shepherd’s pie is his favorite.”
It was Caitlyn’s as well. Yet something told her that even the ultimate comfort food was going to do precious little to ease her mind tonight.
“It’s been three days of this, Caitlyn. Ailis and Colm are worried. They both managed to stop by this afternoon to see if I could get you to talk about what’s bothering you.”
“I think everyone is perfectly aware what the cause is.”
Mom nodded. “Lucas Whiting.”
“So why do I need to talk?”
“Because simply knowing the root of the problem isn’t enough. Ailis is concerned he was cruel, that perhaps he hurt your feelings. Colm thinks you discovered his plans for the pub and you’re holding out on us due to fear.”
Caitlyn never ceased to be amazed by the imaginations of her family. Secrets drove them mad, which meant they would drive the secret-keeper crazy with suppositions and guesses until all was revealed. “Neither of those things is right.”
“I know,” Mom said.
“You do?”
Her mom nodded, the concern in her eyes almost Caitlyn’s undoing. “You may have gone on that date to spy on him, but I don’t think you anticipated liking him. And now you’re torn. Right?”
She didn’t bother to correct her mother on the reason for the date. She wasn’t comfortable confessing the spying part was a lie to cover up the fact she had been sexually attracted to Lucas beyond all reason right from the get-go.
“The thing is, he really is the person I thought he was. He’s entitled, cocky, rich, and determined to wrestle this pub out of our hands. He’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants.”
Caitlyn hadn’t meant to lay it all on the line like that, but despite everything that happened between them, Lucas didn’t pretend that his ambition to purchase this building had changed. Her family needed to know the threat was still there. Still very real.
“He won’t get the pub, Caitlyn.”
“It’s easy to say that, Mom, but the Whitings aren’t l
ike us. They don’t play fair. They fight dirty. Really dirty. And you know as well as I do, they don’t lose. Name one time in the past two decades where they didn’t come out on top.” Caitlyn had lived in Baltimore her entire life. As such, she knew this city, and she’d seen the countless changes that had come about because of the Whitings’ machinations.
As far as Caitlyn was concerned, Baltimore had lost a community center, two free health clinics, too many low-income housing buildings and more than a fair amount of the waterfront to Whiting Properties. All so they could bring in high-end condos, shopping centers, expensive restaurants and parking garages.
“And that’s why we turn to people like you, Caitlyn. People who will fight for the little guy, for people like Moose.”
Caitlyn was sorry she’d started this conversation. Because on top of her conflicting feelings for Lucas, she was fighting her own battle with a crooked landlord who was preying on the elderly. It seemed like everywhere she turned, some rich bastard was trying to cheat the honest man.
Pop Pop’s oldest friend, Moose, had lived in the same apartment for the last eighteen years. The Winchester House was a privately owned apartment building that offered an assisted-living environment for low-income senior citizens.
Pop Pop and Moose had asked her to represent the residents who were dealing with the third rent hike in as many years. The landlord was taking advantage of them, and Caitlyn had joined forces with social services in an attempt to find a legal way to protect the senior residents.
So far, she was struggling to win that battle because the landlord was armed to the teeth with his own attorney and operating within the law, but she didn’t want to admit that to her mother.
“Lucas is the big bad wolf, Mom, threatening the little guy. Which just goes to prove I’m being completely stupid.”
Mom leaned back, studying Caitlyn’s face a little too closely for her comfort. “Obviously he’s not pure evil or you wouldn’t be so down in the dumps.”