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This was the man playing hardball, something he was good at. But he’d sought out our firm, not the other way around. Which meant I had him by the balls.
“And we have clients much older than you, if that’s something you can believe given your advanced age.”
I threw a look at Braxton, doing my best to mask my amusement. He had a keen understanding of human nature, a love of finding that one thing people didn’t even know was a weakness and exploiting it to the hilt. Plus, he was trying to break the tension in the room.
“Let’s all sit down,” Gage suggested.
Given Mr. Spinnaker was worth close to a billion dollars, the Royal Agency, the most well respected and sought after wealth management firm in the entire state of California and beyond, would certainly appreciate his business. However, we’d learned over the years never to kowtow to a rich man.
Especially since Braxton, Gage, and I were each worth even more. Some of our money had come from our father’s lucrative media firm and our trust funds established early in our lives. A larger chunk had been because the three of us at an early age had decided wealth management had tremendous possibilities.
But the largest portion of our wealth had been because of our ridiculous whim thought of over drinks at some local bar to create an opulent island resort. However, we hadn’t been interested in simply building a prim and proper retreat for the rich and famous or even an opulent casino.
We’d hungered for more given our rather dark needs as men.
Much more.
We were barely in our twenties when the Royal Players Club had been born. While it had taken us a few years to find the right locations for not one but two planned resorts on private islands, we’d done it in record time. After that, we’d enjoyed building an empire most would consider… kinky.
We were sadistic men, our desires some women would call heinous, but our yearnings seemed to be in our bloodline.
Tainted? Maybe.
Enjoyable?
Without a doubt.
We’d developed an entire empire, the two clubs located on islands close to St. Martin and St. Thomas exclusive, very private, and something only those in Mr. Spinnaker’s echelon of the world able to afford. We had a waiting list a few months long so it would seem we were doing something right.
After we all returned to the table, Mr. Spinnaker laughed, once again glancing at the proposed stocks Gage had taken the time to put together into a nice, slightly risky portfolio. The man was seventy-two years old, for fuck’s sake. I wasn’t entirely certain why he was so damn worried about doubling his income other than he had a young wife to consider.
I hesitated, rolling my eyes at the thought. He wasn’t a looker by any means, but the women loved him. He also had other proclivities that would remain a secret unless…
“The truth is, I knew I made the right decision coming to you boys,” he said. “Let’s sign the contracts. I have a lunch date to get to.”
Now he was backpedaling, but I would allow it. Better for business. Better for my blood pressure.
But Jesus, I needed relief.
“Very well, Mr. Spinnaker, but our terms are clear,” I told him.
As I shoved the paperwork in his direction, I finally grinned at Braxton. I’d learned early on in our illustrious career together the guy had the best instincts in the business.
Gage fawned over the man as he was best at doing while I rose from the chair, heading toward the bar. It had been a long week, Friday not coming soon enough.
I poured a glass of Glenlivet, my office liquor when I indulged, which was rare. As I stood in front of the window staring out at the rolling waters of the Pacific, I noticed Braxton’s presence behind me in the reflection of the glass.
He poured a drink first before flanking my side. We stood silently as Gage continued to shmooze our new client as only he could do. He was lucky in that he’d garnered his suave sophistication from his mother, the woman now a stepmother to Braxton and me. I was actually surprised she and our father were still married. My father had a roaming eye and then some.
“You’re tense lately,” Braxton said quietly.
Yes, I was. I should be able to consider this the time of my life, yet my father had been breathing down my neck. Since I was the oldest of the three of us, he wanted more than I desired to give him.
Plus, my instincts had been on overdrive lately that Pops had gotten himself in the middle of something. Now, with what James Boy had just said, I was certain I was right.
“Yeah, Pops has been pushing for a dinner meeting. Let alone that asshole,” I snarked.
“Just the two of you?”
