Page 51 of Serving the Mogul

I didn’t know.

My phone rang, and I looked at the dashboard. Gianni’s name came up. Since it wasn’t Tina, I ignored it.

I wasn’t in the mood to talk to anybody—except Tina.

Groaning, I shifted in the bucket seat of the McLaren 720.

My phone rang again, and I scowled at the console screen as I saw Gianni’s name flash. Again.

I hit the decline button on the console as a text notification alert chimed from the phone.

Tina?

I fucking hoped. Glancing in the rearview mirror to ensure I didn’t have anybody right on my bumper, I pulled over and picked up my phone to check the message. Two seconds later, I threw it back into the passenger seat and climbed out of the car.

The hot Texas sun beat down on my shoulders. Off in the distance, heat mirages made the road shimmer. I stared until my eyes blurred and my head ached, ignoring the third call from Gianni.

Sweat beaded on my forehead by the time I shoved off the car, but I didn’t climb back inside. I paced around the car, full of restless energy, nearly turning into pointless anger. I didn’t have a reason to be angry, and I wasn’t—not exactly, but the frustration was running high.

When my phone rang a fourth time, my frustration boiled over and came out in a snap as I growled into the phone, “What the fuck, Gianni?”

“I’m sorry, James, but this is…kind of urgent.”

The note in her voice punched through the fiery anger, and I sighed. “Sorry about snapping,” I said, still in a foul mood. Walking around the car, I climbed in. “Is everybody okay? Connor?”

“Yes. The family is fine.”

I waited as my shoulders knotted up, and a tension headache pounded at the base of my skull. Gianni rarely let it pass when I addressed our father by his first name.

“What’s wrong then?”

“Okay, first…” She hesitated, then pushed onward. “Listen, I need you to take a deep breath and stay with me, okay? This is bad.”

“Gianni, will you quit rambling and tell me what the problem is? Or I’ll drive to your place and wring your neck.”

“Fuck,” she mumbled under her breath. “This is going to be so, so, so bad….”

“What?” I half-shouted.

“Maximus…stop yelling,” she said, her temper edging in. “I’m sending you a link. Promise me you will not do something stupid that’ll require me to bail you out of jail.”

“Fine,” I bit off. “What’s up?”

My phone chimed to let me know she’d just texted me.

“See for yourself.”

Gianni sounded dismal and resigned.

Focusing on the distant heat mirages dancing over the road, I breathed in, then out. A second time. A third. Then, knowing I wouldn’t get any calmer, I grabbed my phone and opened the messenger app to see what the problem was.

“James?”

Gianni’s soft voice came to me almost at a distance as I stared at the bold font of the heading. It could have just been the rush of blood pounding in my skull as my heart thundered, my muscles going stiff and tight while my skin seemed to shrink down, trapping me inside a cocoon of flesh and fury.

Rage was a pulse in the back of my mouth, a sheen across my vision as I scanned the headline one more time.

Yeah, Gianni was right. It was bad.

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