CHAPTER NINETEEN
Worth
I wasn’t fond of this game Auggie was playing. As much as I wanted her, she needed to be tamed a bit. She’d obviously been high-handed her entire life, and I was fairly certain once we were married, she would transfer her target from her mother’s back to mine. I wasn’t about to let that happen.
Once again in the office, I made some calls.
“Bill? Worth here. How are you?” Auggie wasn’t the only one with old school chums waiting to do her bidding. Bill Daughtery and I had known one another since school, as well. He was about to return a few favors. “I have a little something I’d like you to do for me…”
The next call went to Jeremy. “Who’s the best architect in town?”
Jeremy was accustomed to my lack of explanation and decisions on a whim. “Residential? Commercial? Interior? Bridges over the River Seine?”
“Don’t be a smart ass. Residential and with some equine familiarity.”
“Care to share any more details?” he tried.
“No.”
“Didn’t think so. Okay, will text you when we hang up. Dexter’s your best bet.”
“You might have just redeemed yourself from kicking me out of your apartment,” I pointed out.
“Worth, baby, you weren’t willing to pay the price of admission.”
I chose to overlook that and hung up.
The text followed momentarily. It was perfect, couldn’t have engineered it better if I’d tried.
Dexter Architectural Associates
Beverly Dexter, AIA, CEO
Her phone number followed.
“Ms. Dexter, please. Dr. Worth LaViere calling,” were the magic words that brought her instantly on the line. I arranged to meet her at the farm that afternoon. “This is confidential, Ms. Dexter,” I cautioned her.
“Call me Bev,” she offered back. Jesus, but they were so easy to read.
Her Cadillac pulled up behind my Porsche on the shoulder of the side road. The door opened and a tall, breathtaking woman with legs like a dancer emerged. Before closing her door, with exaggerated slow motion, she slid off her heels and replaced them with low-heeled boots. She knew what she was doing that much was clear.
“Dr. LaViere,” she acknowledged me, holding out a slim, well-manicured hand. I could tell she’d never swung a hammer. This lady was purely window-dressing for her firm. She was smart. I went on high alert.
I showed her the aerial map of the property as I laid it on the roof of my car, pointing to familiarize her with the topography. “I want a house here,” I pointed, “horse barns and some assorted training facilities here, and eventually we plan to build a Steeplechase course here and some viewing stands and a few smaller outbuildings for attendees. That should have a separate entrance from the road. I want the personal portion of the estate to remain private, gated even.” I made my emphasis on the last so she knew where my concerns lay.
“What style of house interests you, Dr. LaViere?”
“I want the look of old Kentucky and yet the interior needs to be more modern, a blend of the two, if you will. No heavy paneling and I want windows overlooking the view from every side. Six or seven bedrooms with baths, a study — no, make that two studies. One for a woman and one for a man, adjoined by a partition door. Servant quarters for four and upstairs should include a sizeable nursery at the opposite end of the house from the master. Pool and gardens in the back as well as an outside kitchen with barbeque. Impress me, Ms. Dexter,” I used her professional name intentionally. “Cost is not an issue but accountability is.” In essence, I was telling her I wanted the best, but she’d better not pad the bill.
She nodded. “I’ll walk the land where the house will sit when you leave. Time frame?”
I knew she was going to balk at this. “Three months.”
Her brows drew together. “Impossible.”
“Then it was a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Dexter,” I said as I rolled up the aerial map.
“Dr. LaViere, you’re talking about building a considerable structure, going into winter and you want to move in three months from now?”
“Yes.”
She looked at me and could see I was not only serious but not without the money and clout to get it accomplished elsewhere. “It’s going to cost you,” she pointed out quietly. “Special equipment, crews, overtime, working 24/7.”
“Are you the firm for me?” I asked simply. I was immune to the feminine calling card she normally played.
“Yes, Dr. LaViere. I will have plans at your office in forty-eight hours. You’ll need to give me authority unless you plan to sleep in the pasture while it’s built. I don’t have time to wait for an appointment.”
She knew when to slide off her stockings and put on a suit. I liked that. “Done,” I agreed, then added, “But remember one thing.”
I left the temporarily stymied Ms. Dexter on the side of the road and headed to Joe’s. The normal crowd was there, including McLean. I sat down next to him and offered to buy him a drink.
“Nothing doing, LaViere. Tonight is on me,” he said. “You should have seen the bitch’s face when I made her sign over the title. It was worth every penny.”
“When is the divorce final?” I asked.
“My man says about three months. Hers is going to put up a fight, but there’s not much he can do. He’s just padding her bill.”
“McLean, how would you like to be roommates for a few months?” I put to him.
“How do you mean?”
“I’ll have her out of there by tomorrow, luggage and perfume included and I’ll move in and take over the west wing and have kitchen privileges. I’ll have my own house in three months, at which time, I lease the original house over to you. What do you say?”
“I say I’ll leave the light on.” McLean grinned and held his drink up as toast. We clinked glasses, I upended mine and left. I had one more stop to make.
I pulled into the parking lot at the office and saw, to my delight, that Jervis was still there. Without ceremony, I walked into his office.
He was sitting at his desk, his back to the door and his head thrown back, breathing heavily. I knew in an instant he was jerking off. “Put it away, Jervis, we’re going to talk business.” His shoulders jerked upright. He’d been so consumed with his own hand that he hadn’t heard me come in. I heard a zipper and then he cleared his voice and turned, saying, “I was retrieving my phone. I dropped it.”
“It’s on the corner of your desk, Jervis,” I said, nodding to the cell in plain sight.
“So it is… my mistake. Must have been something else I heard hit the carpet.”
I had to force myself not to grin at the vision that created and took the seat opposite his desk.
“I’m buying you out. You’re announcing tomorrow that you’re retiring. I’ll pay you fairly and you can gather up your women and head for the islands. I want you out by the weekend.”
His eyes widened and he began to stutter. “You-you’ll do… no-no such thing!”
“Name your price,” I said curtly. I pictured that crooked, pathetic dick of his that undoubtedly had the appearance of a cactus leaf at the moment and could see his eyes were full of terror as his predicament sunk in. He’d lost before he was even aware he was under attack.
“This is highly unethical,” he began.
“My offer is dropping by the second. Name your price.”
He threw out a ridiculous number and I countered with half the amount. He nodded, defeated and I left the office, fairly sure it would be some time before he found the need to jack off again.
I went to my office, dialed Jeremy and said simply, “Be here Monday morning with your crew. Do what you did to my office, but this time to the entire building. Questions?”
Jeremy loved me when I was at my most decisive. “None.”
I hung up and realized the power of money, connections, and blackmail — in that order.