Filthy Rich Husband (18+)

Chapter Two

One day before

LOGAN

What kind of father plays match-maker to his forty-two-year-old son?

Mine does. He's a bored, sick old man who has nothing better to do with his time than play golf, nitpick on every single one of my moves, and show up at posh parties to critique young people. He also notices the speck of non-existent dust on the banisters. Not in that order. That's my seventy-four-year-old father.

He likes to play the old-man card more than usual especially when he needs to guilt-trip me into doing whatever the fuck he wants.

It usually works too.

What John Malory wants; John Malory gets.

He's like a four-year-old kid with demands that do not cease. Hell, a four-year-old kid is probably less demanding and someone I could have handled pretty easily.

A few months back, my father survived a major heart attack which was followed by bypass surgery. The surgery was a success but it gave him ammo to throw pity parties and open up a new outlet of outrageous demands.

I'm about to find out what his latest one is.

It's breakfast time. The nurse gives my father his medication. He's fussy about the meds, but a little coaxing from the nurse's side gets him to swallow them. She's a charming woman, and he's got a soft spot for the smiling, chirpy ones and Mrs. Glen is the perfect woman for this job.

He's moody today and wants to have breakfast in his bedroom so here I am keeping up with my father's order only because I don't want to get into any arguments with the old man. It usually ends up with the two of us turning up the volumes of our throats until one of us walks out of the room, which is usually me.

He sips his ginger tea and then places the cup on the table to speak. "I was talking to Richard just the other day at the club after our golf session."

Uh-Oh.

When his opening sentence starts with suspense, it's usually not a good sign.

Richard Shirley and my father are good friends, the kind that drink together, occasionally go for fishing trips and play cards. Those that went to strip clubs back in their day. Their friendship dates back to their college days where the two were known to be the college's hot jocks and heartbreaker extraordinaire. Shirley then worked alongside my father and helped him with the business. He also has a daughter named Maggie.

There was once a time when Maggie used to follow me everywhere, that was when she was a snot-dripping brat of eight and convinced that I was a life-size Ken, minus the blond hair.

Now she is a single mother who has gone through way too much trouble for someone her age.

"Anything that would interest me?" I try to keep my tone casual.

He nods, "Yes, in fact, it has everything that should interest you."

Not the kind of conversation I was looking forward to. I glance down at my Rolex.

"Father, I just remembered that I have an urgent meeting in ten minutes." I brush the white crumbs of the toast from the trousers as I stand up to leave. "If you'll excuse me. The conversation will have to wait until I'm back this evening."

"Sit. Down. Boy." He demands, "Remy will drive you in five. Besides, no one is going to miss your absence in the office for ten bloody minutes. I already called your secretary Paris and told him you're going to be late."

"You did what?"

"I said, sit down, Logan Alexander."

When John tells you to sit, you sit.