Page 58 of The Billionaire's Son

Jase nodded and began shoveling in his pasta.

His father’s mouth tightened in that familiar way he had when displeased. Dear old Dad didn’t trust Kelly, had accused her of being a gold digger just like Darlene. The old man had agreed not to confront her in front of Jason, but fireworks were definitely coming later.

“Did you play tennis with the island pro today?” Kelly asked.

“I did,” Trey replied.

“When are you going to stop fooling around with that game?” Senior asked.

“Never,” Trey said. “In fact, I’m about to start fooling around with it in a new way.”

“What do you mean?” Kelly asked.

Trey poured more wine into his glass. He hadn’t intended to inform his father about his plans, but whatever. He’d find out sooner or later.

“I’m starting a free clinic to teach tennis to kids who want to learn but can’t afford lessons or equipment.”

Kelly stared at him. “Seriously?”

“You were my inspiration,” Trey told her, lifting his glass in a toast.

She paused lifting her own wine for a drink and grinned, which always made him feel good. She smiled so seldom.

“What’s this about, Trey?” his father demanded. “A free clinic?”

Trey nodded. “Brian is setting up a foundation to provide rackets and group lessons twice a week over the summer. I’ve already arranged with the City of Miami to use a public facility when school is out in June.”

“That was quick,” Kelly said.

“The Wentworth name opens a lot of doors,” Senior said. “But it’s a ridiculous idea. The hoodlums will destroy the rackets. Or steal them.”

“There will likely be some loss,” Trey agreed. He had no intention of arguing with his father. Experience had taught him that was a losing game and led to nothing but frustration.

“But it will give a few underprivileged kids something to do over the summer,” Kelly said. “Keep them off the streets and out of trouble.”

Senior snorted. “Not likely.”

“It’s a pilot program.” Trey shrugged. “We’ll see where it goes.”

“Surely you won’t teach the clinic yourself,” Senior said.

“I’m full,” Jason said. “Can I go watch television, Daddy?”

“You don’t want dessert anymore?” Trey asked.

Jason shook his head with a wary glance at his grandfather.

Trey suspected his son was mainly interested in escaping the tension around this table. Kelly probably thought the same thing because she was no longer smiling.

“Sure, buddy,” he said. “Go on.”

Jason hopped down from his chair and ran into the media room. Senior frowned at his retreating back but said nothing.

Kelly threw her napkin on the table and stared at Senior. “So tell me about Mean Bull.”

“Mean Bull?” Trey asked.

“That’s how Jason referred to Grandpa. What’s that about?”

“Oh,” Trey said. “My father had a small sculpture cast of one of his prize bulls.”

“Goliath was a champion,” Senior said with his customary pride. He pointed a finger at Trey. “Highest stud fees in the history of Wentworth Farms.”

“Jason thought the sculpture was a toy and wanted to play with it,” Trey continued. “So Father warned him off by telling him it was a mean bull and would gore him.”

“Gore him?” Kelly repeated.

“I meant it as a joke,” Senior said.

“But it terrified Jason, and the name Grandpa Mean Bull was born.”

“Nothing wrong with a little healthy fear,” Senior said.

“How old was he?” Kelly asked.

“Three,” Trey said.

Kelly narrowed her eyes on his father. “Man, you are some piece of work, aren’t you?”

“I beg your pardon?” Senior said.

“No wonder Jason is so screwed up,” Kelly added.

“Now, wait just a minute, missy,” Senior thundered. “Who do you think you are speaking to me like that?”

“Lower your voice,” Trey said.

“Hey, you don’t scare me, Mr. Mean Bully,” Kelly said in a quiet but furious tone. “I’m not a frightened child.”

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