Low-class, son. Harpers pay for suites.”
Jeff ground his molars together. “I paid for a suite.”
He just hadn’t had time to use it while he was undercover exposing a social injustice.
Jeff cared about people and used the power of his name and his show to set things right. The great RW would never understand why Jeff went out of his way to expose the megarich like Xander Finn.
Weeks earlier, Finn had threatened bodily harm to the Secrets and Sheets crew if they stepped inside the gilded doors of his most expensive Manhattan hotel. The threat had made Jeff wonder what the man had to hide. He’d filmed the episode himself, and the dirt he uncovered would show viewers how badly customers were being ripped off by one of the richest men in New York.
Little did Jeff know that he was about to become the one to “break the internet,” with ridiculous GIFs and memes.
The latest one said, “Those who can, run a hotel; those who can’t, become sex-crazed critics.”
“Success is all about image,” RW was still talking over the phone. “Yours needs an overhaul, Jeffrey. Didn’t you know hotels have video cameras in the elevators?”
“Of course, I do. I was set up!” Jeff slammed his teeth together to keep from blurting out what really happened in the elevator. His father hadn’t shielded him from abuse when he was six; why would he shield him now?
No, except for this job offer—with conditions—Jeff was on his own. Always had been.
“Wait.” A flicker of foreboding licked up Jeff’s spine. “How did you know I was in Finn’s elevator? Did he send you the entire video?”
“Xander and I go way back. He’s always been a pain in the ass. No, I haven’t seen it all, but he promises me it gets worse. I get the sense you don’t want the public to see what happens next. Am I correct?”
Jeff let out a slow breath. The small digital slice encircling the internet was bad enough. If the rest went public, there would be no coming back. “What does he want?”
“I bet you can guess.”
Jeff rubbed the back of his neck. “The recording I made of his hotel.”
“Bingo. And a televised statement that his hotel is above reproach. The best damned hotel you’ve ever seen.” RW paused. “Xander wants you to grovel.”
“I’m not doing that. It was one of the worst I’ve ever seen. Think about the people who save for years to vacation at his fancy hotel. No. It’s unacceptable. No one can bully me anymore, Dad.”
“Then we have a problem,” RW said.
“We?”
“Harper Industries has a reputation to uphold and stockholders to please. We can’t go around hiring a sex-crazed—”
“Dad! I was set up.”
“Blackmail only works because you were caught on tape. You screwed up.” There. That was the father he’d expected when he picked up the phone. The superior tone and words dripping with condemnation were signature RW Harper.
“Blackmail only works if I roll over. I won’t do that,” Jeff snapped.
“Think carefully,” RW said. “He’s threatening to release bits and pieces of your damned sex video for eternity unless you agree to his terms. With a constant stream of bad press, you’ll never work in New York’s hotel industry again. Or anywhere else for that matter. Not even for me.”
Jeff pinched the bridge of his nose. “Then he’s got me.”
“Not if we stop him with good PR. It must be done quickly to keep your train wreck from derailing the entire Plunder Cove project. I promised the townspeople their percentage of resort profits and I intend to keep my word.”
“The people in Pueblicito not getting their share. That’s what bothers you the most about what happened to me?”
“The Harpers owe them, son.”
Jeff shook his head. Harpers were pirates—takers, and users. The family tree included buccaneers and land barons who’d once owned the people in Pueblicito. RW was just as bad as past generations because he only cared about increasing profits for Harper Industries.
Greed had destroyed his family.
And now Dad wants to donate profit to strangers? What’s the catch?
Jeff didn’t believe the mean oil tycoon had grown a charitable heart. It wasn’t possible.
“Why now?” Jeff pressed.
“I have my reasons. They’re none of your concern.”
Deflection. Secrets. Now that was more like the father Jeff remembered, which probably meant the old man was stringing the townspeople along in an elaborate con. The RW Jeff knew was a master schemer who fought dirty and stole what he wanted.
“You have a choice. Agree to Xander’s terms or agree to mine.” RW paused for effect. “Together we can beat him at his own game.”
“I’m listening.”
“We offer the public a respectable Jeffrey Harper, an upstanding successful hotel developer. You’ll again be a businessman everyone looks up to. The shareholders will have undeniable proof that you’ve settled down and are prepared to represent Harper Industries in this new venture.”
“How?”
“With a legal contract signed in front of witnesses.”
Jeff frowned. “What sort of contract?”
“The long-lasting, ‘until death do you part’ sort.”
Oh, hell no.
Jeff sat heavily on his couch. “I’m not getting married.”
“You can’t be a playboy forever. It’s time you settled down. Started a family.”
“Like you did? How’d that work out for you, Dad?”
It was a low blow, thrown with force. Jeff would never forgive his parents for the hell they’d put him and his brother and sister through.
RW didn’t respond. Not that Jeff had thought he would. The silence was a hammer pounding all the nails into the bitter wall lodged between them.
After a long minute RW said, “I’m hiring a project manager at the end of the week. When the hotel is ready, I’ll hire a manager for that, too. You agree with my terms and you’ve got both jobs. Don’t agree and you’ll be scrounging on your own in New York.”
I’ve been scrounging since I turned sixteen and you kicked me out of the house, old man.
“Think this through.” RW’s voice grew softer. “The hotel you
