Claiming His Throne

Chapter 1

Chapter One

“Argh.” I slam my phone down onto my desk, flinching when I remember that this particular desk cost me twenty grand and I’ve probably just damaged it. “Fuck,” I grit out through clenched teeth.

This is not how I saw this morning going.

I should be on my way to closing some deals by now, and yet all I’m getting is pushback from the assholes I’m trying to do a favor for.

Their businesses are failing, their properties the only thing of value they have left.

I don’t get it. Most people jump at the chance to sell to me.

They see my company’s letterhead on the offer and that’s enough to get them signing on the dotted line.

New York, Los Angeles, Seattle, Miami—all cities I’ve managed to get a foothold in.

Las Vegas won’t be any different. I will own my share of that Strip.

It’s only a question of when. Everyone has a price.

Most of the time, it’s monetary. But no matter how much I offer these assholes, they’re not willing to budge.

There’s a knock on my office door. The tap, tap, tappity-tap pattern letting me know who it is before the door swings open. “I’m guessing by that frown that the call didn’t go well.” Angus, my longtime personal assistant, gives me a sympathetic look.

“I don’t get it. What the hell is going on in that damn city?” I ask him.

“No idea, but here.” He places a cup of chai tea on my desk. “Drink this. You need to relax.”

“What I need are those buildings.” I glare at him.

I have my eye on three neighboring properties on the Las Vegas Strip. They’ve all seen better days, and not a single current owner wants to sell to me.

“I know, and you will get them. You always do, Mol, but you can’t do that if you’re running on empty. When was the last time you ate?”

“I ate…” I pause. Shit, when was the last time I ate? “Last night.” I smile when I remember the bowl of colorful cereal I decided was as good a dinner as any.

“Let me guess… Froot Loops?”

“No,” I lie.

“Sure.” Angus laughs. “Well, I’m going to go grab you some lunch. Oh, and your father called again. I told him you were in meetings all day.”

“Thanks. I’ll call him back.” That is not a call I want to make. I just know the longer I avoid it, the worse it will be. Sometimes it’s easier not to know, to stay in the dark where it’s emotionally safe.

Angus closes my door behind him, and I pick up my phone, surprised the screen isn’t cracked in a million places from how hard I slammed it against my desk. Hitting my father’s number, I bring the phone to my ear.

“Molly, you’re avoiding again.”

“Do you have any good news?” I counter.

There’s silence for a moment before I hear my father’s sigh. “You can’t avoid things just because they’re not good, Molly.”

“Actually I can. It’s working quite well for me.”

“Molly, she’s been asking for you,” Dad says.

“What have you told her?”

“The truth. That you’re busy with work.”

“Okay. I’ll see if I can come home on the weekend,” I tell him, although I doubt by then it will matter. My mother doesn’t remember me most days. On the days she’s asking for me, it’s usually the child version she’s looking for. Not the person I am now.

“Thank you.”

“How are you doing, Daddy? Do you need anything?”

“I’m good. You don’t need to worry about me, Molly Bug.”

“I will always worry,” I remind him.

“You just keep being the awesome human you are. I’ll see you on the weekend, hopefully.”

I set the phone down after the line goes dead, throw my head back against the seat, and close my eyes.

I grew up with a very loving family. My mom was the picture-perfect mother until I was around thirteen.

That’s when everything changed. It didn’t happen slow.

It was like she was there one day and then the next she was a complete stranger.

As if a demon had taken over her body and mind.

I was born into a world with a loving, caring mother. But ended up with a version of her. And not really a good one. At the time, I didn’t understand what was happening. Then I grew to resent her. Now, I avoid her.

It took a while to diagnose my mom with brain tumors.

That’s what caused her regression and memory loss, according to the doctors.

Surgery and treatment were able to get the tumors under control and provide her with a longer life.

But nothing the doctors did brought my mom back to the woman she once was.

I spent the rest of my teenage years hiding away in my room, studying and getting the best grades I could get to make sure I got into a good college on a full ride.

And it worked. All of my hard work not only got me out of my hometown, but I was able to build a life, a career that allowed me to help my dad financially and provide the medical care my mom will need for the remainder of her days.

By the time Angus returns with a ham sandwich for me, I’ve decided that these Vegas businesses need to stop fucking me around. We both know what I’m offering them is a damn good deal.

After scarfing down the sandwich, I press the button on the intercom linked to Angus’s desk. “I need a flight to Vegas,” I tell him.

“When?”

“Tonight. You’re coming with me. We’re going to go and close these deals in person,” I explain. “Call the Nevada team and tell them I want a meeting at nine tomorrow morning.”

“Sure thing, boss. Where do you want to stay while you’re there?”

“I don’t care as long as it’s nice.”

“Okay, I’ll send you the details.”

Opening my laptop back up, I start reading through all the files my PI collected on these business owners.

There has to be something they want, something they won’t ask for but as soon as I offer it, those buildings will be mine.

And then they’ll be demolished and a shiny new tower will rise in their place.

That’s what I do. Buy up old buildings and rebuild.

God knows the Strip could use a facelift.

I walk into the boardroom with my head high and my heels even higher.

I dress to impress, especially when I’m on a mission.

And right now, my skintight white dress with a square neckline is appropriate for work, but also shows off every curve I have.

Paired with a navy blazer and patent-leather red-bottomed pumps, this is my don’t fuck with me outfit.

The room is silent as I take a seat at the head of the oval table.

I make a point to let my eyes travel over each one of my team members, letting them squirm under my scrutiny.

I know I sound like a bitch, but I don’t have a choice.

I’m a woman in a male-dominated field. I started this company from the ground up.

Sure, I might have a board and investors to answer to now, but at the end of the day, this is my baby.

“You have all been here for two weeks and not a single one of those properties is in the process of changing hands,” I say. “What am I missing here? I hired you because you all know how to close a deal. You have always closed the deal. Why is now any different?”

“Ma’am, the owners refuse to even talk to us,” Chris, one of my top negotiators, says.

“Why?”

He shakes his head. “I introduced myself to Mr. Marks in a restaurant two days ago. He told me that even if he wanted to sell, he couldn’t.”

“That’s it?” I raise a brow.

“Yes. He then had me forcibly removed from the restaurant.”

At this, my eyes widen. “Anyone else have anything to add?”

“None of them will give us five minutes. Emails are now bouncing back and any attempt to call is either going unanswered or we’re simply hung up on, ma’am,” Adam says.

“I mean, I’m not surprised. You do know who owns this city, don’t you?

They won’t do anything without the approval of the Giulianis. ”

The Giuliani family owns a good portion of the Strip, but they have no vested interest in the buildings I’m wanting to acquire.

“What do the Giulianis have to do with these properties?” I ask.

“Not the properties, ma’am. The entire town. There are rumors…”

I roll my eyes. “Rumors are just that—rumors. You really expect me to believe that this town is being run by gangsters in suits? And even if it is, I’m not scared of them.

I will get these buildings.” I stand from the table and level my glare.

“Keep me in the loop. I’m going to go and meet with these owners and find out exactly what their price is.

” I pick up my laptop and walk out of the boardroom with Angus at my back.

“You know, I never say this, Molly, but the things I’ve heard about the Giulianis… you probably shouldn’t try to go up against them,” Angus whispers as his steps fall into line with mine.

“Why?”

“Because one, I need you alive to keep my job and I like my job. And two, well, I need you alive,” he says.

“You’re being dramatic. I don’t care what the rumors say about them. They’re nothing but a wealthy family throwing their money around with some pretense of power. I want those buildings, Angus. I’m going to get them.”

“Sometimes I think your stubbornness is going to be your downfall,” Angus mutters.

“Or it’s the thing that’s going to push us into record-breaking numbers.” I smile at him.