Page 29 of Some Like It Scandalous
“It’s not funny.” George scowled. “One was thirty-eight and twice divorced.”
“Cougars are the rage—or so I hear.” He could be sympathetic, but tweaking him was much more fun even if he didn’t care for the term.
“According to who? You haven’t dated a woman over the age of twenty-five ever.”
True. Armand liked his woman too busy and preoccupied with her career to pay attention to his life. The younger they were, the hungrier they were for success, and the less inclined to believe they needed to “land” him. He hadn’t even entertained the idea of marriage in years.
Ten to be specific.
“Anyway—” George stabbed a finger in his direction. “With all the fuss, it’s costing a bit more for security, so I need an advance.”
“You don’t pay for your security out of your allowance.” Armand rolled the wine around in the glass as though watching the light play off of it.
“You know what I mean…” George returned to the chair opposite Armand’s, wine bottle in hand.
“You could mean any number of things, George. I do not presume to interpret your statements for you. You do not pay for your security, so you do not need an advance to cover that.” He held up a finger when George opened his mouth to speak. “You do not pay for your travel. You do not pay for your accommodations. You do not spend much time at home, so you do not maintain a regular staff and you fired your valet just a month ago and have not hired a replacement for him. His was the only salary you paid for—so you did not fire the man for incompetence, but because you couldn’t afford him.”
“You’re a real bastard sometimes.” His younger brother’s shoulders slumped, but the defeat in his tone muted the anger.
“So I’ve been told. What happened?” Armand sat forward and set his wineglass down. He didn’t really want the drink anyway. He studied his brother’s expression even as the younger man continued to avoid looking at him directly.
“I made some bad investments—acted on poor advice as you would put it. Now I’m in arrears. I took out a small loan because I thought the return justified it, but?—”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he promised himself he wouldn’t yell. “How much?”
“It’s not as bad as all that.” He set the bottle and the wineglass down. “It’s—just a few thousand dollars.”
Few thousand?“How few?” Armand clasped his hands together, better not to strangle the younger man.
“An advance is all I need—you can just authorize it?—”
“George.” One word. His name. A reprimand.
“Two-hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
Armand sat back in the chair and stared. His younger brother rarely shocked him—not after Sebastian’s antics all over the globe. A fan of extreme sports, Sebastian took dangerous pursuits to new levels and he periodically went off the grid, leaving everyone to speculate wildly that he’d been killed only to pop up somewhere else. Spoiled, indulged and perhaps even a little petulant, George had been a decent—if lazy—younger brother. He preferred to gamble and drift through his life, only stepping up when it was requested of him.
“Who do you owe the money to?”
“Do you really need the answer to that?” Which meant someone Armand wouldn’t approve of—or worse, someone dangerous.
“Fine. I’ll pay it. You’ll give the name to Peterson and we’ll take care of it.” He rose from the chair.
“Thank you, it won’t happen again and I’ll?—”
“Go back to school.” He cut off the gratitude. Buttoning his coat, he stared at him, unyielding. “You’ll enroll this afternoon. Check the schools you’re most likely to have an interest in, choose a major, fill out the paperwork, and contact Gretchenwith the details. We’ll get it taken care of, until then, you will remain here.”
“You’re serious?” George scrambled to his feet. “Armand, I don’t want to go to college.”
“I know. You’ve managed to avoid university for several years now and with legitimate reasons like discovering yourself and blazing your own path. How is that working out for you?” Sometimes being the older brother meant being inclined to cut him some slack. Other times it meant using a mallet. This situation called for the latter rather than the former. George had far too much of the former.
“Is this more of your ex-girlfriend’s bourgeois sensibilities? Trying to impress her?” The belligerence wasn’t unexpected, no matter how unwelcome.
“Have a care, George. She is a guest, and she will be treated with respect and courtesy—even when she is not present.”
“After the way she?—”
Armand raised a hand. “George, I will take care of your debt. You will go to school. In the meanwhile, you may stay here until we have sorted your situation out. But under no circumstances will you speak of ortoAnna in those terms or with that tone again.”
