Disgrace

Chapter 4: Trust Fund

Mason James Thatcher Lyndhurst

"Want to tell me why Johnson said that I can't get my trustfund yet? According to him, the terms have changed." I said to my father as I stood behind him. He doesn't seem to recognize me, he was too focused on the golf ball a few inches away from his golf club.

It was very hard to miss in this sea of greenery here in his very own golf course in Hawaii, palm trees and landscapes surrounded The Lyndhurst Club.

"She needs to be aesthetically pleasing—-no, dropdead gorgeous. Most importantly intelligent and educated. She needs to be either a lawyer, a medical doctor, or someone in academia—big someone. I am talking; a scientist, a professor, or a lead researcher with a PhD. No surrogates, no strîppers, and no prostitútes."

My brows furrowed as I heard my father's rambling after he managed to get the ball into the hole with the little flag. No matter how rich we are, I just never got the game of golf. It is fúcking boring, so much so, that I would rather watch the paint dry than to ever play this stupid game.

"Excuse me, dad?"

His butler took the golf club from him as my old man walked towards me with his polo shirt tucked in his khakis, so unlike his attire when he leads a conference room full of business people.

"Johnson is right, I changed the terms of your trust fund." He said casually, his blue eyes on me.

The crease in my forehead deepened even more as I stared at thim through my sunglasses.

"What? Why? Come on, dad. I did everything you said, I am in school for business, I stayed out of trouble, what more do you want?" I asked in frustration.

I need my one hundred million dollars to fund my bachelor lifestyle—-I need a boat for my parties, fúck pads, club and bar money, I need nice cars. Everything. I have waited for this for a long time and now he's telling me that I couldn't have it?

"An heir." Dad replied without missing a beat.

My mouth parted as I snatched off my sunglasses in surprise. What the fúck? Is my dad high right now? I don't think so, his eyes are not read, he seemed sober.

I scoffed and ran my hand on my mouth in disbelief.

"Excuse me?"

My dad gave me a business-like smile before he started walking towards the clubhouse. I took a seat right across from him as his butler served us some orange juice. The fiery Hawaiian breeze blew on us as my father chose the outdoor chairs.

"Dad, why don't you just ask Jackson? He is like thirty-six, he will be more than willing to give you what you need." I tried to reason out.

Instead of answering me right away, he calmly took the glass of orange juice and tipped it over his lips, taking his sweet time.

"Your brother, Jack, is in Chicago as a doctor, which I think is pretty noble but he cannot be a doctor and run a multi-billion dollar company. He keeps on telling me about this other doctor that he is head over heels for, respecting her wishes and everything, so I know that he won't ever have a child with that woman, given the timeframe that I want. You, on the otherhand, are young and have no interest in medicine. Most importantly you are using your time participating in frat parties and some other dumb jock crap." He said. "I am not getting any younger, Mason. I need to know that our bloodline will continue on."

"Dad, I am only twenty-one." I widened my eyes at him. "I have no interest in getting married or whatsoever."

"I never said that you need a wife." He replied firmly.  "You want your one hundred million dollar trust fund? Give me a grandchild."

My jaw clenched. No. Never in a million years!

"I will make you the sole owner of the company, if you manage to give me a grandson by next year."

*.*.*.*.*.*

Me: my old man's being soooo extra right now.

I texted Theo as I got inside my Porsche Panamera. I am so pissed, I should be calling my financial advisor right now and I should be telling him to buy me a yacht right now, but no, here I am thinking of ways on how to avoid that stupid new term! No way I am going to have a child at my ripe age of twenty-one, when I should be out there partying and sleeping my way into every sorority house.

Theo: what's up? I'm with my aunt rn, she is SUPER cool, bro!

I scoffed as I looked at my best friend's message.

Me: wym? You tripping? The old and miserable aunts who are judgemental as hell?

Theo: nah, man. I got one from Chicago, she's like my mom's little sister.

And then he sent a picture and I had to stare at my screen like a freaking pervert.

Call me uncle then because goddåmn.

She was kneeling in the sand, her åss—peachy, bouncy, and soft, almost wanting to break free of those deep blue bikini bottoms. I could see hints of tan lines, my mouth was craving to lick and taste that glowing, golden skin. Her breasts hidden under a beach croptop, but I could see their shape, how lucious and soft they must be.

I licked my bottom lip as I reached to cup my growing eréction.

I shouldn't be acting this way, I've had many girls in my bed—to many to count, but there is something about her  aptivating brown eyes, I only want them on me. Her smile, mine. I want her long legs around my waist when I fúck her.

I was so focused on her that I didn't even notice that she was building a sand castle with Gabby in the picture.

Me: That cannot be your aunt. She looks too young.

Theo: She is, she's thirty-three.

Thirty-three must be my lucky number.

Theo: she's a doc and she's really great. Gabby adores her.

A doc? My father's qualification for my supposed baby-mama's ringing in my head.

Theo then sent a snapchat video.

"Tita Kat, say hi to Mason." I heard my best friend say behind the camera. I didn't even care about him, all I cared about was how Kat—-her named sounded so good—-how she's looking at me.

"Hey, sweetie!" She playfully winked and gave me a flying kiss through the camera. It was an innocent gesture, but it was enough to set my body on fire. Holy shît.