Prologue
Three years ago…
Scarsdale, NY
WILLIAM XAVIER SUMNER III, who went by Xavier, stood behind his father, staring at the computer screen with a knot coiling in the pit of his stomach. Unlike his older sister, Bonnie, he’d done everything his father had ever asked. Whatever his father wanted him to do, William did it without complaining. This included attending the University of Michigan, his father’s and grandfather’s alma mater, when Xavier would have preferred Boston University.
His sister had dropped out of college two years in and even though their father cut her off completely from the family fortune, she’d managed to marry some older dude that would support her until she did something to screw that up. Their parents were still mortified by their oldest daughter’s shenanigans, and they barely spoke.
Xavier, on the other hand, had a great relationship with his parents. He didn’t resent or even have any regrets over doing things his parents’ way. They paid the bills, and Xavier didn’t want for anything.
Except he wanted to be a journalist and eventually a published author of both fiction and non-fiction. He fancied crime novels and investigated pieces of work looking into past crimes, or crime organizations, murders, even in-depth looks at famous people. Sort of the garden variety of unauthorized biographies.
“Dad, I’m not asking for anything, but—”
“I understand that, Xavier, but if you want to venture out of the family business, then you’re going to do it on your own. Besides, I would have stopped giving you any kind of allowance after college.”
But Xavier’s income at his father’s company would have been five times the amount of his starting salary for a cable news company out of New York City.
“I’m not Bonnie. I respect what you’ve done for me. I appreciate all the opportunities I’ve had in life. I don’t understand why you’re depleting my bank account.”
His father tapped a few keys, and Xavier watched as the money that should have reverted to him on the day of his college graduation, disappear.
“Sit,” his father said, pointing to a big, brown, leather, wing-back chair on the other side of a mahogany desk in his father’s office off the living room in his childhood home in Scarsdale, New York. There had been times in Xavier’s life when he thought the ten-thousand-dollar home with seven bedrooms and an added cottage house was more than plenteous. Often, he’d wished his family lived a more down-to-earth lifestyle when it came to their homes, vacation homes, cars, and private jets. His parents always tried to teach him the value of a dollar. They shopped at discount stores, and designer clothes were considered, for the most part, a waste of money.
That concept always made him laugh considering his dad thought nothing of dropping a couple hundred grand on a new car.
“I feel like I’m being punished for having worked hard my entire life and wanting to pursue my passion.”
“You’re twenty-three. Your life has barely begun, and I’m not punishing you.” His father rocked back on his chair, clasping his hands behind his head. At fifty-eight, his father was one of the richest men in the State of New York. He’d taken the small family investment firm which provided his modest upbringing and turned it into a company with a net worth of over fifteen billion dollars by the time he’d turned thirty.
“You just blocked me from family funds because I won’t go work for you.” It was rare that Xavier asked for money because he didn’t have to. It had always just been there.
His father arched a brow. “Now you’re being childish. You knew the deal from the get-go. I don’t think it was too much to ask for two years of your work life to see if maybe you might change your mind.”
Xavier opened his mouth, but his father held up his hand.
“It’s not like I’m cutting you out of the will or anything crazy. If in four years, you’re successful and happy, I’ll put the money back.”
“Who gets to define what that means exactly?”
“Write down your goals for the career path you want, and we’ll see how it unfolds.” His father rubbed his chin whiskers with his thumb and forefinger. Saturday was the only day he didn’t have to shave, and for as long as Xavier could remember, his father never once put a razor to his face on that day. “Happiness is a relative term, but I think we can agree that you’ll either enjoy what you’re doing, or you won’t.”
“And if I don’t achieve all my goals?”
“Look.” His father leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “Even if you came to work for me right now, I’d be pushing you to make it on your own. I’ve always told you the gravy train ends after college. This wouldn’t look that much different, only your salary would be much more than what this investigative news channel is paying you. I would still be cutting you off from direct access to my credit cards and bank accounts.”
Xavier wished his father sounded bitter, but if he was being honest, there was a twinge of pride in his father’s voice. Deep down, Xavier knew, with one older sister and three younger ones, his father really wanted to work side by side with his only son.
His namesake.
Xavier also knew his baby sister, Finley, though only sixteen, was smarter than any of them put together, and she loved numbers. Stats, finance, economics, anything in that wheelhouse, she was a pure genius.
Most importantly, she wanted to work with dear old dad. His other two sisters, Cloe and Sage, would end up working for the family business in some shape or form, but Finley would be the one to carry it to the next generation.
“It’s not like I’m making you pay me back for your education, like I did your older sister, Bonnie,” his father said with a twang of disgust. He’d completely cut Bonnie off, except from his will, something Xavier had heard his parents discussing. Bonnie didn’t think she should work. That everything should just be handed to her on a silver platter.
Well, she had a sugar daddy to do that now, but still, it added angst to every family gathering in a mostly well-adjusted unit.
“I understand, and I want to make my own way in the world, it’s just that—”
“Unlike your sister, you can walk out of here with the twenty grand I put in an account from when you worked for me the last few summers and your brand-new Jeep paid for lock, stock, and barrel, because it was a gift.” He waved his finger. “You’ll need to insure it yourself, and hopefully this job of yours comes with—”
“I have full benefits,” he said, interrupting his father, something that he didn’t do often. But if he was going to be out from under the comfort of his father’s money, then his father was going to have to tolerate Xavier being a man, not his child. The only real problem Xavier had was he wouldn’t be able to afford the rent on the loft in Chelsea he wanted unless he got a roommate, and he hadn’t had one of those since his freshman year.
He’d find a place he could afford.
He had this. No problem.
He’d prove to his father he could be just as successful in his line of work as his father’s, even if it meant making less money.
“All right then, I wish you the best of luck.”
Xavier wouldn’t need luck. In four years’ time, his father would be slapping his back and telling him how proud he was of his only son.
***
One month ago…
Bronx, NY
California Banister, or Cali as everyone called her, pressed her hands firmly on the table top as she sucked in a deep breath. One half of her wanted to reach across the table and squeeze the life out of the sleaze ball sitting across from her.
The other half wanted to lecture her parents on reading the fine print, only she knew the asshole who’d talked them into this partnership had made sure they buried the clause, using complicated legal speak, so deep into the contract that it would most likely take a seasoned attorney to find it and recommend her parents not sign it.
“I think I’m being very generous in my offer,” Mr. Thompson, the sleaze ball, said with a condescending smile that made Cali wish she didn’t understand the penalty for pre-meditated murder.
“I want it in writing,” she said.
Thompson frowned.
“A simple contract, that I’ll have my attorney draw up that will null and void my parents’ current contract if I pay you two hundred and fifty thousand by the end of the year.” That gave her eleven months to sell her soul to another devil to pay off this one. But she’d do anything to make sure her parents didn’t lose their family restaurant to some jerk-off who gave them a loan, knowing the stipulation that if they went under a certain earning level, he’d be able to buy them out, essentially kicking them out of their own business with very little to show for it.
“Why don’t you let us handle that?” Thompson cocked his head, giving her a shitty grin. “We don’t want to worry your pretty little—”
“I’ll have the paperwork sent over to your office by morning.” They had no idea she’d be drafting the document herself. Even though she was kissing a career as a lawyer down the tubes before she even set foot in law school, making sure her parents kept their business would be well worth dropping out of school.
She had a four-year degree in political science, though it took her six years to get, and she figured in one year, after her contract as an employee of Infidelity, she’d be able to find a decent job.
But first, sell herself as a companion for twenty thousand a month living expenses to a wealthy man who would buy her gifts that she could sell and give her cash she could pocket. She figured she’d have the money with a day or two to spare.
“Just remember, I won’t sign it unless it specifically states that if you don’t give me the money by December thirty-first, everything gets turned over to me for the price of one dollar.”
Talk about a gamble. Right now, her parents could walk away with twenty-five grand, which was a shitty-ass deal to begin with, but better than if she failed.
Failure was not an option.
One month ago…
Scarsdale, NY
Xavier paced in the hallway outside of his father’s home office. It had been three years since he’d sat on the other side of the old man’s desk while his father chopped up his credit cards. Xavier had proven his worth as an investigative journalist, had landed a book agent, and had his first proposal in a bidding war with three different well-known publishers, getting him a heafty first advance.
He’d achieved most of the goals he’d set out in his four-year plan early.
Now he was sitting on potentially the largest story about organized crime and its possible connection to the Infidelity Corporation.
But he needed his father’s help.
And his money.
The heavy, mahogany door pushed open into the hallway. His father waved him in. His mother and youngest sister, Finley, now a freshman in college, double majoring in finance and economics, sat on the sofa to the right of the desk, leaving Xavier to sit in the wing-back across from the desk.
His little sister had her long, strawberry-blond hair pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck. Her dark-rimmed glasses perched on her nose while she scanned a document. His mother sat with her legs crossed at the ankle and smiled. Her brown hair was cut short to her chin and while she had a few wrinkles around the eyes, she didn’t look a day over forty.
Xavier took his seat and awaited his fate.
“Interesting proposal,” his father said, rocking back in his oversized chair. “I’m no longer surprised why you had us sign a non-disclosure agreement before sharing it with us.”
“I’m not as interested in Infidelity Corporation as I am some of its clients and employees, so I want to protect the company as much as possible.”
“Messing with the mafia is a dangerous game,” his little sister said as if she’d had any real-world experience with them, which she hadn’t. But she did understand the game of chance; statistically speaking, he was playing in a high stakes game of poker.
“This is the kind of story that could seal my career going forward,” Xavier said, trying to hide the anxiety coating his words like a thick layer of fog. “And win me some major publishing and journalism awards.”
“It could destroy it, and you, as well,” his little sister said, peeking over her glasses. “Not to mention cause you bodily harm. I go to school with Trish Costello. She may have walked away from her mobster father and his family, but she’s constantly looking over her shoulder and boy, the stories she has to tell. Everyone is afraid to be seen in public with her.”
“I hope you are exaggerating,” his mother said, slack-jawed, staring at her youngest child.
“She is,” Xavier said, giving his sister a sideways glance. Finley might be super book-smart and great with numbers, but she didn’t have the best read on people.
And she had no filter, something she’d have to work on if she was going to take over the family business.
“It’s not the days of leaving horse heads under sheets. More money laundering, shakedowns, not dumping bodies in the Hudson,” Xavier said.
“Mom watches too much television,” his father said with a nod and a bit of a scowl.
The Costello’s weren’t your typical gangsters, but they weren’t to be taken lightly either.
“I know I’m asking for a lot, but if this works, I’ll be able to pay it back in spades,” Xavier said, sitting on his hands to keep them from shaking. This was worse than when he’d put a small dent in the driver door on the Lamborghini the one and only time he took it out without his father’s permission.
“I’m not worried about the money,” his father said, staring at the ceiling. “I’ve watched your career, and I have to say I’m more than impressed. You’re really good at what you do.”
“As if you had any doubt,” his mother chimed in with a smile and a wave of her hand. “You told me the day he turned you down—”
“Dear, let’s stick with the current situation.”
His father’s approval meant the world to Xavier. He’d hated disappointing the old man, so knowing his choice of careers left his father with a sense of pride eased the tension in Xavier’s muscles.
“Do you really think this story is that big?” his father asked.
“I honestly don’t know. Best case scenario is I blow the Costello’s out of the water. The worst case is I have enough material for another book proposal. I got five hundred thousand for the first book. The second one will bring me more money, a larger print run, and put me in a position where I can seek out whatever stories I want while writing the kind of non-fiction, true crime stories I desire. This is exactly what I’ve been working toward,” he said, not hiding his excitement.
His father tried to conceal a smile by running his hand over his mouth, his thumb and forefinger gliding over the corners. “You can use the house in Montauk. It will be freezing, since it’s winter, but I’ll have the staff turn everything on and ask them to act as if you’re the sole owner.” His father held out his hand. “You can use the Lamborghini and the private jet. I’ll set you up with a credit card, but I will expect you to pay that back.”
“I really appreciate that, Dad. I intend on paying you back every penny. The key is to make it look like I’ve got millions.”
“That’s the easy part,” his sister said. “The hard part is making you into the clientele Infidelity Corporation is looking for and the kind of man a refined woman wants to drape her arm over.”