Page 178 of Morally Black Betrothal
Dandelion Farm had been drowning in debt for decades. The money I had ready to pay it all off would barely cover half of what was due.
But I could get it. I could. So long as I was willing to go back to Boston with my tail between my legs and accept what Brendan had done.
At this point, I’d do anything to save the one place that meant anything to me anymore.
“I need a few months,” I said. “Weeks, maybe. And then I can pay it off. Will you accept half now?”
Ezra snorted. “You misunderstand. This isn’t a way out.” He took back the file and tucked it into his drawer. “I wanted your shitty little farm for something far more valuable than a measly ten mil.”
A cold sliver of fear drew up my back. “W-what do you mean?” I glanced at the map. “Is this about your project? You want to build something there, right?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. But really, it provides me with a different kind of leverage.”
“Leverage for what?”
“And here I thought you might be a little smarter than your sister.” With a boot, he toed a bobble-headed figurine of Pam Anderson circaBaywatch, where her boobs moved instead of her head. “Did you know that I was originally working with another member of yourfiancé’sfamily? Owen and I were planning a whole development of the area. He wanted to build resorts. I wanted to build some casinos, dog tracks, things like that. Make a shit ton of money on a new town we were going to call Ventnor Place.”
I frowned. Well, that explained the fight even more. I wondered if Brendan knew Ezra had been involved with his family’s business from the start. He had to, right? He was the head of the whole thing.
“It wasn’t until a few weeks ago that the whole thing went to fucking hell. All because your fiancé decided to dump the properties. My father found out and bought them cheap just to teach me a lesson.”
I stared. “So, what, you wanted the farm back just to stick it to Brendan and your dad?” Something about this wasn’t adding up. Was this all just about Ezra Huntington’s misplaced daddy issues?
Ezra dropped his feet to the ground with a thud. “My father cut me out over this bullshit, you stupid bitch. The Ventnor development was supposed to be proof that I could finally live up to my name. Do you have any idea how fucking humiliating it was to have it all ripped away? Your so-called ‘prince’ didn’t just fuck over his own brother—he fucked over all of us. So I couldn’t give two shits about your family’s sad little cows. You want them back? You’ll have to give me the only thing that will get me backinto Providence: a piece of The Black Prince himself. Or at least his company.”
“That’s…insane,” I managed. “I’m not even a part of this company. And Brendan would never?—”
“Oh, I think your boyfriend would be willing to negotiate. He wasn’t the other night, but now that you’re here, he might change his tune.”
Dread settled in my stomach like ice. “W-what are you talking about?”
He got up and started circling the desk, forcing me to turn in my chair to follow his unnerving progress. “At first, I really thought I was fucked. But it was just my luck when The Black Prince fell in love with a farm girl. It was your sister who told me all about it. Even let me borrow her kid to get what I wanted. Unfortunately, he wasn’t willing to give me what I wanted for a little kid he barely knew. But he was willing to fuck you over. It’s an extra step to get to where I need to be, but you’re here now. We’ll make it work.” He grinned, showing me the most evil smile I’d ever seen.
I stood, clutching my purse like a shield. “You’re mistaken. He doesn’t care about me like that.”
“Oh, I think he does.” Something in his tone made me shiver as his mask of civility slipped away entirely. “Or at least, you’d better hope he does.”
“Let me leave,” I commanded, trying a different route. “I’ll go back to Boston and tell him what you want. See if I can get him to make a deal.”
“Don’t think so, Bambi. Can’t catch a wolf without the right prey.” He pressed a button on his desk, and a few seconds later, two rough-looking men in flannel shirts and guns tucked into the waistbands of their jeans stepped inside.
They had been waiting.
This had been planned from the start. Readied the second I walked into the building.
I backed toward the one window in the room, though it was barred from the outside.
“Hold her down,” Ezra ordered.
“No! Let me go!” I fought without much effect as the two men grabbed my arms, then wrenched me back to the chair, where they neatly handcuffed me to the metal arms and legs. “Stop! Ezra, you won’t get away with this. It won’t get you what you want. He doesn’t care about me like that. He doesn’t!”
Ezra took a burner cell phone out of his desk, then flipped it open and pointed it to me.
“For your own sake, you should pray that you’re wrong, sweetheart,” he said as he snapped a picture. “Now, smile. Or maybe don’t. Otherwise, he might get the wrong idea and think it isn’t the last thing you might ever do.”
42
SKY-HIGH PURGATORY
