Kellen
The conference room in the Hayle manor is tucked back in the far corner of the building close to my father’s former office, which is currently being used by Hugh.
I don’t love the idea of my slimy cousin taking over my father’s former headquarters, but then again, my father was a real piece of trash—so it’s like swapping bad for worse.
Albert Manning sits shifting uncomfortably in a chair across from mine while Finn stands near the door looking angry and intimidating. Albert’s been the Hayle family lawyer for two decades now and he shouldn’t be bothered by a guy like Finn, but I think my crew’s reputation precedes us here. The poor old bastard keeps glancing over and looking away and I’m pretty sure he’s about to sweat through that cheap polyester suit he’s got wrapped around his soft, pale Irish ass.
“Ah, Kellen, uh, yes, good to see you again, I’m happy you called me in today. There’s a lot we have to discuss.”
“You seem a little nervous, Albert. Can I get you something to drink? Water? Tea maybe?”
“No, no, I’m fine.” He glances at Finn again. “Are you sure we don’t need privacy? Much of what I have to say is, ah, confidential family business.”
“Finn’s fine. Are you going to blab about what we say in here, Finn?”
“Probably not.” Finn shrugs.
I gesture at Albert. “See? Probably not. That’s as good as gold, coming from him.”
“Right.” Albert clears his throat and leans forward. “Okay then, Kellen. I suppose you want to know about your father’s will?”
“That’s a good start.”
“Fortunately, it’s a simple matter. He left everything to your mother except for a few trusts established for some of the family. Your uncles, some cousins, and you.”
“He left me a trust?” I laugh sharply, shaking my head. “What a fucking bastard.”
“Ah, sorry?” Albert looks confused. “That’s a bad thing? It’s a fairly substantial fund. You won’t be filthy rich, but—”
“I haven’t taken a dime from my father since the day I walked out of this place seven years ago. Everything I have now, I have because I fought for it. Do you understand, Albert? I struggled and bled to get where I am today.”
“Right,” he says, clearing his throat. “Which is where, exactly?”
I grin at him and lean back in my chair, enjoying his discomfort. “How about we dispense with the formal bullshit, all right? Does that work for you?”
“Please,” he says, gesturing.
“I run one of the most successful mafia crews in the area and my strength’s growing every day. My father realized years ago that I’ll be a threat to the Hayle family sooner or later and he’s been doing everything he can to pull me back under his control. Bribes, extortion, even a few assassination attempts. Remember that stripper he sent for my birthday?”
Finn grunts and nods. “She tried to stab you in the dick.”
“I think she was aiming for my heart.”
“I distinctly remember the dick.”
“Either way.” I look back at Albert, eyes narrowed. “My father was a real piece of shit, but as it turns out, I might be worse. This trust fund is just another way he can try to control me from beyond the grave. Give me some money, make me complacent. And I’m guessing there are stipulations involved?”
“Ah,” Albert says, really sweating it now, the poor bastard. I know it isn’t his fault but I do enjoy watching him squirm. “Well, yes, there are, but—”
“I’m betting I won’t like them.”
“There’s only one, actually.” He takes a breath and lets it out. “You have to be married to get the money.”
I frown slightly, head tilted, studying him as my mind works in slow circles, trying to come to grips with what he just said. “Repeat that.”
“Married. To get the money. That’s the only stipulation. Doesn’t say to whom or by when, only that once you’re married, the cash is yours. And Kellen, before you decide to turn the trust away, I’ll remind you that your father is dead and there’s at least fifty million saved for you in discreet and profitable investments.”
Finn whistles. “Fifty million’s not bad, Kell.”