called us earlier—a for-sale sign has gone up at Lockwood.”
“Ethan’s selling the house?” Noah asked.
“No. He’s selling everything. Our childhood home, the land, the country club, the golf course, the buildings. He’s selling the LCC Trust and that includes everything on the estate except for the individually owned houses.”
Noah released a low, bullet-like curse word.
“Rumor has it that he needs cash again.”
“Okay, let me assimilate this. I’ll call you back in a few.”
Noah sucked in his breath and closed his eyes, allowing anger and disappointment to flow through him. Ten years ago he’d taken the man he called Dad, a man he adored and whom he thought loved him, to court. After his mom’s death he discovered that the marriage that he’d thought was so perfect had been pure BS. The only father he’d ever known, the man he placed on a pedestal was, he discovered, a serial cheater and a spendthrift.
Stopping Ethan from liquidating the last of Lockwood family assets, passed down through generations of Lockwoods to his mom—a legacy important enough to his mom for her to persuade both their biological dad and then their stepdad to take her maiden name—meant hiring expensive legal talent.
Noah ran his hand over his eyes, remembering those bleak months between his mother’s death and the court judgment awarding the Lockwood boys the waterfront marina and the East Boston boatyard and Ethan the Lockwood Country Club, which included their house, the club facilities, the shops and the land around it. Ethan was also awarded the contents of the house and the many millions in her bank accounts. All of which, so he’d heard, he’d managed to blow. On wine, women and song.
Fighting for his and his brothers’ inheritance had been tough, but he’d been gutted by the knowledge that everything he knew about his mom and Ethan, the facade of happiness they’d presented to the world, had been a sham. A lie, an illusion. By cheating on his mom and choosing money over them, Ethan had proved that he’d never loved any of them.
Why hadn’t he seen it, realized that his dad was actually a bastard, that every “I love you” and “I’m proud of you” had been a flat-out lie? Faced with proof of his father’s deceit, he’d decided that love was an emotion he couldn’t trust, that marriage was a sham, that people, especially the ones who professed to love him, couldn’t be trusted.
And Morgan’s actions had cemented those conclusions.
The year it all fell apart, he’d spent the Christmas season with Morgan and her parents. Needing something to dull the pain after her parents retired for the night, he’d tucked into Ivan Blake’s very expensive whiskey and dimly recalled Morgan prattling on about marriage and a commitment. Since he’d been blitzed and because she’d had her hand in his pants, he couldn’t remember what was discussed...
The following day—feeling very un-Christmassy on Christmas morning thanks to a hangover from hell—he’d found himself accepting congratulations on their engagement. He’d tried to explain that it was a mistake, wanted to tell everyone that he had no intention of getting married, but Morgan had looked so damn happy and his head had been on the point of exploding. His goal had been to get through the day and when he had Morgan on her own, he’d backtrack, let her down gently and break up with her as he’d intended to do for weeks. He’d had enough on his plate without dealing with a needy and demanding girlfriend.
Yet somehow, Ivan Blake had discerned his feet were frozen blocks of ice thanks to his sudden engagement to his high-maintenance daughter. Ivan had pulled him into his study, told him that Morgan was bipolar and that she was mentally fragile. Being a protective dad, he’d done his research and knew Noah was a sailor, one of the best amateurs in the country. He also knew Noah wanted to turn pro and needed a team to sail with, preferably to lead.
Ivan had been very well-informed; he’d known of Noah’s shortage of cash, his sponsorship offers and that there were many companies wanting to be associated with the hottest sailing talent of his generation.
Ivan had known Noah didn’t want to marry Morgan...
He’d said as much and that statement was followed by a hell of an offer. Noah would receive a ridiculous amount of money to sail a yacht of his choice on the pro circuit. But the offer had come with a hell of a proviso...
All Noah had to do was stay engaged to Morgan for two years, and Ivan would triple his highest sponsorship offer. Noah’s instant reaction had been to refuse but, damn...three times his nearest offer? That was a hell of a lot of cash to reject. It would be an engagement in name only, Ivan had told him, a way for Morgan to save face while he worked on getting her mentally healthy. Noah would be out of the country sailing and he only needed to send a few emails and make a couple of satellite telephone calls a month.
Oh, and Ivan had added that he had to stay away from Jules Brogan. Morgan felt threatened by his lifelong friendship with Jules and it caused her extreme distress and was a barrier to her getting well.
A week later he’d forgotten that proviso when he kissed the hell out of Jules on New Year’s Eve...the kiss he kept reliving in his dreams.
Not going there, not thinking about that. Besides, thinking about Jules and Morgan wasn’t helping him with this current problem: Ethan was selling his mom’s house, his childhood home and the land that had been in his family for over a hundred and fifty years. That house had been the home of many generations of Lockwoods, and he’d be damned if he’d see it leave the family’s hands. His grandfather had built the country club and was its founding member. His mom had been CEO of the club and estate, had kept a watchful eye on the housing development, limiting the estate to only seventy houses to retain the wide-open spaces.
Think, Noah, there’s something you’re missing.
Noah tapped his phone against his thigh, recalling the terms of the court settlement. Yeah, that’s what had been bugging him...
He hit Redial on his phone and Eli answered. “In terms of the court settlement, Ethan has to give us the opportunity to buy the trust before he can put it on the open market.”
“I don’t remember that proviso,” Eli said.
“If he wants to sell, he has to give us three months to buy the property. He also has to sell it to us at twenty percent below the market value.”
Noah heard Eli’s surprised whistle. “That’s a hell of a clause.”
“We had an expensive lawyer and I think it’s one Ethan has accidentally on purpose forgotten.”
“Then I’ll contact our lawyer to enforce the terms of the settlement. But, No, even if we do get the opportunity to buy the trust—”
“We will get the opportunity,” Noah corrected.
“—the asking price is enormous, even with the discount. It’s a historic, exceptional house on a massive tract of land. Not to mention the club, the buildings, the facilities. The golf course. We’re talking massive money. More than Ben and I can swing.”
Noah considered this for a moment. “We’d have to mortgage it.”
“The price to us should be around a hundred million,” Eli said, his tone skeptical.
“We’d
