Billionaire's Single Mom

“Emily made it clear to Sally to leave it alone,” my mother said. “Something’s got that poor girl spooked, and she’s not saying. Maybe…” She sighed. “I don’t know what I should do.”

“You don’t need to do anything. I do. But first I have to understand what I’m up against.” I turned in my chair and glared at the city as if it was somehow Nashville’s fault that Lionel was messing with Emily. “Don’t worry, Mother. I’ll find out why, and then I’ll take care of it. You have my word, so help me God.”

* * *

It’d been a good two months since I’d last visited the country club. Not like I didn’t like the place—the prime rib alone was a reason to visit—I’d been busy, first with business matters and then with romantic matters as it were.

I sipped on a nice Merlot as I looked around, loving the earthy flavor. The club was a great place to make and strengthen business contacts. Earlier in my career, I’d spent almost every day there, but I’d long advanced beyond needing to mix too much with the local business scene. Not arrogance but simple truth.

The good thing was that the social circles for a person in my position, or even Emily’s position, was pretty small. Even though it could get very stifling, and that fueled my desire to spend less time at the club, it’d now serve as a useful tool in my investigation.

I picked up my fork and knife to cut off a piece of my prime rib. I’d just chewed and swallowed when a familiar face showed up: an old acquaintance, Charles Worthington. Perfect. The guy gossiped more than a 1950s housewife.

He arched an eyebrow and stared at me like I was a ghost. “Well, well. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you at the club, Logan Hawkins.”

I nodded toward the seat across from me. “Join me. Have some of the Merlot. Great vintage.”

Charles slid into the chair, grabbed the bottle, and poured himself a glass. He downed half of it before offering me a smile. “I heard about that deal your company signed in Japan. You son of a bitch, how do you keep doing it?”

I shrugged. “Dogged persistence. I just don’t let myself be satisfied. The fire keeps me going.”

He laughed. “I’m not satisfied, yet somehow I still didn’t end up a billionaire, and I got started a few years earlier than you.” He wistfully ran a hand over his bald head. He shook his head, and then his face darkened.

I pulled my attention from my food to lock my gaze on my conversation partner. “Problem, Charles?”

“Just thinking about how you’ve ridden out both the dot-com bubble and the 2008 crash.” He whistled. “And you managed to not only survive but to prosper. You’re like a damn wizard when it comes to making money. Did you sell your soul or something?”

“I still work the nice guy, not the guy downstairs. Besides, you know what they say. Luck is where opportunity meets preparation.” I offered him a faint grin. “And I really liked to be prepared.”

A waiter stopped by. “Mr. Worthington,” he said to Charles, “what would you like?”

“I’m fine for now,” he said. “I was just chatting with my old friend Logan here.”

“Very good, sir.” The waiter turned to me. “Did you need anything else, Mr. Hawkins?”

I shook my head. “No, thank you.”

The waiter offered a polite nod before heading to another nearby table.

“Are you getting at something with all this talk of my past successes, Charles?” I said.

The impish look on the other’s man face suggested he was dying to tell me something, so I decided I’d give him the hook he needed.

“A lot of guys who’ve made as much money as you haven’t been as clean as you. Not just with you avoiding some bad investments but with you not getting within a mile of shady stuff.”

My brow furrowed. “This is America. Plenty of opportunities for honest men to make a lot of money. If you have to do something illegal to make money, it means you’re not very smart.”

“Yes, you’d think, but not everyone I guess is as lucky or prepared as you.” Charles chuckled darkly.

“Oh? You have someone particular in mind?”

“I’ve heard here and there that you’re seeing Sally Jolie’s daughter, Emily.”

My face twitched. “We’re just friends.” That was true and neutral enough.

“Uh-huh. What I don’t get about that woman is how she still lets her ex push her around. Everyone knows Lionel cheated on her, but when they divorced, it’s like she pretended it didn’t even happen, at least to the judge.”

I picked up my wine and took a sip to hide my frown. “What’s this have to do with anything?”