Page 1 of Draco's Defiance

Prologue

Oliver Monroe

“IS IT DONE?”

Dragging his gaze from the pert behind of the blonde server, Oliver’s attention flitted to the sprawling green fairway beyond the vast window. He sighed, watching another troop of middle-aged men conclude their daily round of golf with a visit to the plush bar.

Oliver loathed golf and always had. He preferred other, more primal activities. What really ground his gears was that his family had enough money to buy the entire golf club and pulverize the fairways to the ground, but still his father, Jonas, insisted on membership there when he didn’t even play the sport.

“Is what done?” Jonas had also spotted the server’s tempting assets, his concentration fixed on her backside, although by the looks of her youthful complexion, he was old enough to be her grandfather.

“The paperwork.” Beneath the tablecloth, Oliver balled his hands into fists.

Was Jonas doing this on purpose?

His father knew full well what they’d come to discuss. Oliver had made no secret of his demand. If he wanted his son on board with the family business, then it would be fifty-fifty from now on. Fifty percent of the power and the money. He was, as it turned out, a chip off the old block. He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at the realization.

“Oh, that.” Jonas’ gaze slid back to him.

“Yes.” Oliver pressed his lips into a hard line. “That.”

“I’ve had Moira draw the papers up.”

“Moira?” Oliver’s memory flitted back to the brunette he’d encountered leaving Jonas’ office. Was that the lovely Moira to whom his father referred?

“I know.” Jonas shook his head. “I thought the same—a female lawyer—but Jeffries insisted she was efficient.”

“And?” Oliver had no interest in legal representation, but if the woman he’d seen was Moira, then the thought of taking her over his desk was certainly appealing. Maybe he could entertain the idea of an appointment.

“So far, so good.” Jonas shrugged. “I’m having Jeffries double check the contract, though. You don’t really think I trust a woman to do it, do you?”

“Thought not.” Oliver chuckled at his father’s sneer. No wonder he was so cynical, given his father was the master skeptic.

“She should be sending the papers your way by tomorrow.” Jonas picked up his glass of champagne and swirled the pale liquid around the flute. Oliver had no idea why he’d chosen the drink. He couldn’t recall his father ever drinking fizz. It was all a matter of looking the part and in the current surroundings, apparently, that meant ordering champagne. “Look them over and sign when you’re ready.”

When I’m ready?

Hell, Oliver couldn’t wait to get started. The idea of getting his clutches firmly into the family business was one of the few truly enthralling ones in his life.

“I will.” Oliver pushed his glass away. He had no need for alcohol this early, and anyway, there was nothing to celebrate until the damn papers were signed. “Tell her to call me, and I’ll pop into the office and sign them.”

“Keen, are we?” Jonas’ tone was wry.

“You bet.” Oliver met his father’s eyes. “We can’t move forward until this is complete. That includes sorting out Rebecca’s mess and grabbing that Vaughn financial arm you’re so desperate for.”

“I know.” Jonas’ jaw tightened at the reminder. “That’s why I’m making sure it happens.”

“Have you told Mum about the change?” It wasn’t any of his business how Jonas and Gloria conducted their marriage, of course, but he might as well know which landmines to avoid the next time he had the pleasure of their collective company.

“What’s it got to do with your mother?” Jonas’ brows knitted with apparent confusion.

“I don’t know.” Oliver was starting to wish he hadn’t asked. It wasn’t like him to care about other people and now he remembered why. “I just wondered if, after so many years of marriage, she had designs on the future of the business.”

“Your mother?” Jonas snorted as if the concept was preposterous. “I don’t think so. Do you? So long as I keep her in expensive shoes and vodka, she’s fine.”

“Right.” Oliver definitely wished he’d steered clear of the subject.

I won’t make that mistake again.

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