“It’s too early,” he grumbles as he walks past me and into his kitchen.
I follow and sit down at his table. He busies himself making coffee. “You want some?” he asks.
“No, I’m good.”
“Good,” he grunts.
When he’s finished, he turns and looks at me, steaming mug in his hand.
“Okay,” he says. “Why the hell are you here this early, Shaun?”
“I figured this would be the only time you’ll be totally sober today.” He glares at me but doesn’t deny it. “We need to talk.”
“About what?” he asks.
“Your little contest.”
He grins at me. “Oh, yeah. I seriously can’t believe you guys tied. I really thought my daughter would kick your ass at that memory game.”
“And I can’t believe you didn’t have backup plan.”
He shrugs. “What can I say? I love a good twist.”
“Here’s a twist for you then: I quit.”
He frowns at me, sips his coffee, then shakes his head. “No.”
“Excuse me?”
“No,” he says. “You’re not quitting. This next challenge is going to be awful. I’ve been working hard on it and you’re absolutely not going to quit.”
“Aldo. This has gone far enough.”
He laughs. “What are you talking about? How can you not love this?”
“Love this? You’ve been putting us through demeaning, degrading torture for your own amusement. No, Aldo. I don’t love it.”
“Please.” He walks over and sits across from me. “You got my fucking daughter pregnant. You deserve it.”
I lean back in my chair and stare at him, shocked into silence.
He grunts and laughs. “You think I didn’t know?”
“I didn’t… she told you?”
He shrugs. “Found the pregnancy test in her fucking work trashcan. Yes, I went through her trash, and it was to find a bottle of rum she took from me, which I did find too, thanks very much. I thought you might be the father, but wasn’t sure. I appreciate you confirming that.”
I clench my jaw. “Okay, asshole. But it doesn't change a thing.”
“Oh, yes, it does.” He leans toward me. “You’re a motherfucking Lofthouse. You can’t handle a scandal. What happens when word about your little illicit lovechild gets around town?”
I stare at him. “You’d do that to your own daughter just to spite me?”
He waves his hand like he’s swatting away flies. “Oh, come on. She won’t care. She’s nothing, a nobody. You’re something, though, and you’ll care a great deal.”
“Holy shit,” I say softly. “I thought you were an asshole because of the drinking. I didn’t realize you were just a fucking asshole.”
He laughs. “Say what you want, but you’re not quitting.”
“Give her the company. I’ll still pay you, but in private, so she doesn’t have to know about it.”
“No,” he says. “I’m serious, I put a lot of time into this next challenge and I really want to see who wins it all.”
“What is the matter with you?” I growl, unable to help myself. “This is your daughter.”
“I know,” he says, his face falling into something more serious and contemplative. “She’s a smart girl, works hard, came up with the Divas idea all on her own. I think she’ll go far in this business.”
“Why not give her the company then?”
“Because fuck her,” he says, tilting his head. “That’s why. And fuck you, too. You think you can just come in here and buy me off?”
“I’m trying to make sure everyone gets what they want,” I say.
“Klara wants to take what I built, right? And I should just, what, give it to her?”
“She’s your daughter, Aldo. Pass something on to the next generation. Leave a legacy.”
“Fuck a legacy.” He laughs, shaking his head. “I’ve been alive long enough to know that once you’re dead, you’re dead. Nobody gives a fuck about you anymore. Unless you’re some president or amazing hero, you end up in the dirt, forgotten like everyone else. While I’m still alive, I want to live, damn you, and I’m not about to give up the one asset I have to my daughter just because she fucking wants it.”
I stand up. I can’t help myself. This man is driving me insane. I’ve never met someone so self-centered, so egotistical, so fucking annoying in my entire life. He smirks at me and grabs a bottle of whiskey from a cabinet.
“Drink?” he asks.
“Sell me the company. I’ll give it to Klara. You can go retire on a private island.”
“Oh? You’re offering that kind of money now?”
“Name your price.”
“My price is you compete in my challenge.” He pours a measure of whiskey in his coffee cup, frowns, pours some more. “That’s my price.”
“You can’t have it.”
“Then too bad.” He turns back to me with a grin. “Never should’ve gotten involved, Shaun. You think you can do whatever you want just because your name is Lofthouse, don’t you? Fuck my daughter, be a total dick, fine, whatever, but you can never—”
I don’t let him finish his sentence.
I can’t take it anymore.