Page 30 of Hotshot Mogul

“Commissioner Yablonski has moved. Any seconds?” the mayor asked.

“I second,” a beautiful, dark-skinned woman said. She sat next to the mayor.

“Second by Commissioner Riley. Discussion?”

Commissioner Riley spoke first. “This will bring jobs and new homes that people told us tonight they want. It’s a beautiful spot that will enhance our community. I also question why an outsider would lead a petition against it.”

I drew stares. Bruce clenched his jaw, eyes narrowed—his warrior face.

A woman with long, white hair interrupted Ms. Riley. “We’re getting off course.”

“The chair recognizes Deputy Mayor McGregor.”

The assistant mayor continued. “Seems like a no-brainer to me, Mr. Clynes. Do the development and keep the tree. If the four hundred-plus-year-old tree pulls through, great. If it dies later, then you’ve got bonus space. So, we could approve the rezoning with the stipulation that the oak tree stays.”

“Bruce?” the mayor asked. “Can you keep that tree for now?”

“From the vantage point that the dead tree sits on, I plan to build a high-rise with a penthouse suite and restaurant that will offer views of the lake,” Bruce said. “I already have tenants signed. That piece is essential to the financial success of the project.”

The assistant mayor rolled her eyes. “An oak tree for a high-rise, Mr. Clynes?”

“He would desecrate a sacred place for greed?” I whispered to Callie.

“And to keep his reputation as someone who doesn’t lose money,” Callie whispered back. “He won’t risk that.”

No, he would not. In that, he really was the same as Étienne. He would not lose face in front of those whom he thought admired him.

I would leave now, forever. I would fight to save my beloved tree from within. “Goodbye, Callie, Rufus. All the very best. Thank you.”

I thought that Bruce might look at me, or simply notice I was leaving. I was grateful that he didn’t. As I fled the parking lot, I saw that the tires on his Jeep were punctured.

It didn’t concern me. Not anymore.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Bruce

I wanted to puke as I said my spiel about the high-rise. I sounded like a greedy asshole. I was a greedy asshole. I didn’t need the damn money.

I could lose money on this one, use my trust fund that I hadn’t touched. My fiancée, Diana, had died without the controversial treatment that my trust fund could’ve funded. I couldn’t touch it then, and it may not have saved her life. Strides had been made in cancer treatments, but pancreatic cancer was still a death sentence. I’d misplaced my anger then, right at Dad. How could I have been such an asshole?

Truth was, losing money on a project would sink my business rep. My name carried weight. I was known as a young hotshot development dude—and I liked it. Hell, I loved it. I worked my ass off for that. And the high-rise, the cash cow, needed to be where the damn oak tree stood to get the lake view.

I hadn’t looked Anneliese’s way for the rest of the hearing, afraid of what I would see. Grow a pair, Clynes. I looked her way—and froze. Her seat between Rufus and Callie was empty. “No.”

“Er, Mr. Clynes?” Mayor Karlson raised her eyebrows.

“Nothing, sorry.” Sweat trickled down my temples. I stared at Callie until she looked my way. “Where?” I mouthed.

She shrugged. Fuck. I had to go find her, fix things.

“Call the vote,” the mayor said.

There were five yeas and two nays. Applause sounded. I bolted out of there and ran to my Jeep—and stopped dead.

All of my tires were flat. Punctured, judging from the knife that was stuck in the left rear. “Holy smoke,” Rufus said. Callie stood next to him, shaking her head.

Would they help me? “The glade, could you drive me there?”

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