Page 43 of Kandi's Crush: A BWWM Sweet Billionaire Romance

“Soon, I will be an old woman. I don’t want to be too frail to push a stroller or pick up my dear, sweet grandchild.”

The dramatics were an elaborate ruse for compliments.

“Mother, you aren’t old at all,” I deadpanned, rolling my eyes. “You will be a fun and vibrant grandmother.”

“I don’t want my grandchildren to call me Granny or Grandmother.” She mimed the gagging motion. She added an emphatic hand gesture. “They’ll call me Gen-Gen or nothing else.”

I wasn’t sure I had what it took to be a good father, though I didn’t have the heart to tell my mother that. The amount of work required to develop young minds overwhelmed me. But if I said any of that out loud, she was liable to have a stroke. I changed the subject instead.

“How did you know Dad was the one?”

“Why do you ask? Is my baby boy keeping secrets from me?” she teased.

“No. I was just wondering.”

“I hate to say this, but when you know, you just know,” she said, shrugging slightly. “It was the summer of my sophomore year when I met your daddy. He was fresh out of law school and had shadowed Daddy Jack. The sorority sister that fixed us up described him as a real humdinger. I was excited and took all the care in the world when I got ready. I wore a white pleated leather miniskirt with a cute little cropped top. Thought I was Kim Basinger,” she chuckled.

“In walks your daddy, looking like Harrison Ford, and I swooned. We sat in that tiny Italian restaurant and talked for hours about anything and everything. He was so smart, so mature, and I was smitten. In those four short hours, I’d planned our wedding, named our children, and daydreamed of us sitting on the porch surrounded by a brood of grandchildren.”

“We sat there for so long we got thrown out of the restaurant,” she laughed. “After dinner, he escorted me to my car where we stood at the driver’s side door and kissed for an eternity.” She ignored my frown and continued the story. “He pulled away from me and stated that he wasn’t ready for marriage. He also added that he wasn’t looking for a wife or a girlfriend. That’s when I knew I had him and that he would be my husband.” She reached for her glass and took a sip. “So, who is she?”

“I was just curious. There’s no one in particular,” I lied.

“Bull. Shit. You’ve never asked me anything about love. You’re keeping secrets from me, and that’s your right. But I will tell you to keep your heart open for whatever happens.”

We looked each other in the eye for a minute. My mother knew me better than anyone and had the uncanny ability to see through all of my games and facades. I wasn’t sure if my new love with Kandace showed on my face, but I was certain she knew something was going on.

“Where is Dad?”

Her expression softened at the mention of my father. After almost thirty years of marriage, the two were still blissfully in love.

“He’s at the golf course. He promised he would make it in time for dinner. He’ll be happy to see you.”

The last time my father and I had spoken was five months ago. I had avoided the Mardi Gras crowds, preferring to watch the parade from the terrace of the St. Clair mansion. Bundled in our hats, cashmere scarves, and leather gloves, my father and I had sipped spiked coffee and shared our Lenten promises. He’d promised to give up fatty cuts of red meat while I had vowed to abstain from one-night stands.

My promise had garnered a smile and opened the door to a difficult topic. For the hundredth time, he’d asked me to begin succession training for St. Clair Enterprises. Well, he hadn’t asked, he’d demanded.

His impatience was about the family legacy. He was nervous that everything our ancestors sacrificed for the company would go to waste. For the past hundred and twenty-five years, a St. Clair had sat at the helm of St. Clair Enterprises. As the oldest male descendant, it was my duty to carry on the family name and the success of the company.

The warm, brandy-filled mug had made me pliable and clouded my judgement. The liquor, coupled with my father’s refusal to accept the word no, had left me no other choice but to agree. I had hesitantly agreed with the proposal and set a tentative start date for August.

Once I was sober, I had realized I’d made a horrible mistake. I didn’t want to be a full-time employee. The next day, I’d explained that I didn’t want to take over as CEO. I suggested that he reach out to one of my younger, more industrious cousins for the role.

We hadn’t talked since that day.

As expected, my father arrived in time for dinner. Before greeting my mother and I, he stopped at the liquor cabinet and poured three fingers of Macallan whiskey. After knocking back the drink in one gulp, he turned his attention to his family. He hugged my mother and kissed her on the cheek, then held out his hand to greet me with a stern, “Son.”

The three of us dined on salmon steaks and dill sauce along with bacon-wrapped asparagus. The table was silent until my father spoke up.

“I hear everything is going well with the building. I can’t wait to see it.”

“I think you’ll like it. I’m proud of the work done so far.”

“After you’re done with this pet project, I trust the construction bug will be out of your system. At some point, you will need to grow up and take the reins of our legacy. I’ve worked too hard for you to squander this opportunity and our fortune.” His steely gaze locked with mine. “I hope you will reconsider.”

The iciness in his tone lowered the temperature in the room, so much so that my mother shuddered before looking down at her plate.

“We must work on your dating life. I have a few friends with suitable daughters.” To Martin St. Clair, ‘suitable’ meant a wealthy socialite devoid of personality and well-versed in public personas. Someone who could clean up my public image. A lady in the street and bore in the bed.

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