Final Offer (Dreamland Billionaires, 3)
Final Offer: Chapter 15

Lana plucks a page from the tall stack of papers on the kitchen table and reads to herself while using her red pen to mark the page. Without any alcohol to artificially inflate my self-esteem, I’m left with a racing heart and an urge to escape before Lana notices me.

Not relying on vodka to numb your problems is a positive thing.

Yeah, except reducing my consumption always seems like a good idea until I’m faced with any kind of adversity.

Just go on and get this over with.

I tuck my thumbs into my front pockets. “Do you have a second?”

She looks up at me. “I’m a bit busy here grading papers.”

“On a Friday night? Riveting stuff.”

She shoots me a look. “Unless you’re here to admit defeat about the house, don’t bother.”

“I prefer the term compromise.”

“I’m sure that’s what all the losers say to make themselves feel better.” The shimmer in her eyes fucks with me. Or to be more specific, my dick.

You’re fucked in the head.

Of course I am. At this point in my life, I’ve had more therapists than friends, and neither stick around for long given my issues.

I pull out a chair across from her and take a seat. “I’m going to make you an offer.”

“Oh, this ought to be good.” She places her pen to the side before giving me her full attention.

“I want you to listen to me completely before you say no or threaten me with taking legal action.”

She motions for me to continue.

Time to bring out the big guns. “Let me sell the house for two and a half million dollars and you can keep all the profits.”

Her face pales. “All the profits?”

“Down to the very last penny. I’ll even cover all the remodeling costs myself, which means you will walk away with everything at the end of closing day regardless of how much money we pump into this place.”

She blinks twice. “But why would you do that?”

“Selling the house has never been about making money for me. I want to be done with this place as quickly as possible, so if it means losing a few million along the way, then so be it.”

Her withering glare doesn’t bode well for me. “Oh, yes. I’m sure that’s such a sacrifice for a billionaire like yourself.”

My clenched fists press into my thighs. “I’m trying to help both of us out while giving you a nice deal.”

“I don’t need your help,” she snaps.

“No, but it would be nice to send Cami to that fancy school she got into with the funds.”

Her eyes narrow. “Now you’re just playing dirty.”

I wink. “My favorite kind of strategy. Is it working?”

“Marginally, although your cocky grin isn’t doing it for me at the moment.”

I wipe the smile off my face. “Work with me.” I’m not above begging on my knees to get her to see reason. “This kind of money can change anyone’s life.”

“How would you know? You made your first billion the moment you took your first breath.”

“I’m not completely detached from reality. I understand the value of money.”

“Knowing how to spend it isn’t the same thing as valuing it.”

My teeth grind together. “Valuing your money means knowing where to spend it, not how.”

“Look at you being all wise.”

“I’m more than just a pretty face, Lana. I have a brain too.”

“Who lied to you and called you pretty?” She bats her lashes.

“You did…while I was between your legs with my tongue deep inside your needy cunt.”

Take that, you little witch.

She chokes on her breath. “God.”

“Please, no need to call me God outside of the bedroom. It gives me a complex.”

She swipes the swear jar off the top of the fridge and slams it on the table in front of me. “Pay up.”

I grab a hundred dollars and drop it in the jar. “Worth every penny.”

“Cami’s college fund appreciates the donation.”

I clasp onto her wrist, and the warmth of her skin bleeds into mine. “You wouldn’t need a swear jar anymore if you agree to sell the house.”

She stares off into the distance.

I can practically taste victory, so I pull out my wild card. “You could open that bakery you’ve always dreamed about.”

She releases a shuddery breath as she looks away, and I think for the first time since I came to Lake Wisteria, I’m finally winning.

Only because you’re using her dreams against her.

Is that what I’m doing? Or am I simply reminding her what she must have forgotten over the years?

She shakes her head, her vision turning clearer as she comes back to reality. “No. I’d rather play it safe and save the money for a house and whatever Cami might need over the years.”

“Play it safe? What happened to the girl who would act first and think later?”

“I grew up, Cal.” She grabs the swear jar and places it back on top of the fridge.

“So what? Growing up doesn’t mean giving up on all your dreams.”

“I didn’t give up. I just realized I’d rather make someone else’s dreams come true a lot more than my own.”

“What does that even mean?”

She pulls her stack of papers into her arms and retrieves her red pen. “I don’t expect someone like you to understand.”

My heart threatens to shrivel up. “Someone like me?”

“Someone who always chooses himself.”

As if her words didn’t do enough damage, the look on her face lands a killer blow.

She takes a deep breath. “I accept your offer on one condition.”

“Name it.”

“I want to have the final say in whoever buys the house.”

I scoff. “Why? So you can make it impossible for anyone to buy it?”

She can’t even look me in the eyes, which only adds to the hollowness in my chest.

“Because I want to make sure whoever owns it next loves my home as much as I do.”

I instantly feel like a dick for thinking the worst about her. “Lana—”

Her nostrils flare. “Yes or no, Callahan?”

And now we’re back to Callahan.

Lovely.

I nod. “You get the final say, so long as you’re not vetoing potential buyers for no good reason.”

Hopefully I don’t end up regretting my choice.

***

Lana

I’m starting to wonder if you have a shopping addiction.

She sends me a photo of a box waiting on the porch. I bolt off the couch, scaring Merlin, who wiggles his way underneath the TV stand.

Be there in a few.

My excitement grows with each step I take across the property toward the main house.

Lana stands on the porch, waving at the red-headed mailman as he drives off.

I walk up the steps. “Do you know him?”

“Ernie? Yeah. He’s Isabelle’s son.”

My brows rise. “I’m surprised my packages have arrive undamaged then.”

“Me too. He’s not too happy with you given the thirty packages delivered here in the last few days alone.”

“This is the best one yet.” I lift the heavy box into my arms.

She peeks at the cardboard box. “What is it?”

“A Kees van der Westen Speedster.”

Her brows pull together.

“It’s an espresso machine,” I clarify. Caffeine, Adderall, and I don’t usually mix well. But now that I’m working until late, long after my medicine wears off, I need a little pick-me-up in the afternoons.

She snorts. “Sounds like the name of a car.”

“And costs about the same as a cheap one too.” I give the box a loving pat.

Her eyes widen. “How much did you pay for it?”

“I don’t remember. Twenty thousand, give or take with tax? Why? Do you want one?”

The color drains from her face. “You spent twenty thousand bucks on an espresso machine?”

“I have needs, Lana.”

“So do I, but that’s worth more than half of my yearly salary!”

I rock back on my sneakers. “I know it sounds excessive…”

“That’s because it is.”

“Forgive me for enjoying the finer things in life.”

“It’s your money, so do what you want with it. I’m just surprised anyone would spend that kind of cash on coffee.” Then let us hope she never replaces out how much I spent on the new mattress, bed linens, and couch in the guesthouse.

“Please. This is nothing. Wait until you see the state-of-the-art grill I bought.”

She blinks. “You bought a grill knowing you’re only going to be here temporarily?”

“Of course. I thought maybe I could tempt you into making some of your mom’s carne asada one of these days.”

Her mouth drops open.

“It’s a really fancy grill with all the bells and whistles and stuff most chefs drool over. I swear you’ll love it.”

She opens her mouth, only for it to slam shut.

I rub at the back of my neck. “I can cook for you too, although I can’t promise it will be half as good.”

“You would cook for me?”

“You and Cami,” I correct.

Something flashes in her eyes before disappearing.

“You—We…” She rubs her temple in small circles. “You know what? I’m going to wipe this entire conversation from my brain.”

“What did I say?” I reach out for her hand, only to have her step away before I have a chance.

“Nothing. I’ve got to go get Cami ready for her dance class.” Lana disappears back into the house, leaving me to wonder what I said wrong this time.

Story of your life.

***

I’m bored.

I bounce the tennis ball against the ceiling while I wait for Iris to reply to my message. With the contractor and his team already fixing up the exterior of the house, including replacing the roof, vinyl siding, and old windows, I have nothing else to occupy my time.

Lake Wisteria doesn’t have many options for entertainment. Unless I want to drive thirty minutes away to go see a movie, I am stuck with either bowling by myself, hanging out at the park on the other side of the lake, or spending the rest of my day online shopping.

My phone vibrates against the couch.

Iris

Have you tried picking up a new hobby?

You mean one besides staring at myself in the mirror?

Iris

I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not.

Let’s keep it a mystery.

Iris

What about knitting?

Hell no.

Iris

Crocheting?

…

Iris

Reading a book?

Hmm. I haven’t read much since I was a kid, but that seems like a better option than attempting to create something with a ball of yarn.

Any recommendations?

Iris

Let’s ask Zahra.

Iris follows up with a message in the group chat I share with the two of them.

Iris

Do you have any book recommendations for Cal?

I throw my ball against the ceiling as I wait for Zahra to answer.

Zahra

What do you like?

The opposite of whatever you read.

Zahra

No romance. Got it.

My phone starts pinging from her texts of recommendations. I pull up my notes app and type out her suggestions before leaving the guesthouse.

By the time I park outside One More Chapter Bookstore, Zahra sent an encouraging message about how happy she is about me getting into reading.

The tiny store hasn’t changed one bit since Lana and I used to visit. Tall wooden shelves line the walls, packed to the very top with books waiting to be purchased.

“Hi. How can I help you?” Meg, the older woman who has owned the shop since my mom used to take my brothers and I here, pops up behind me.

“I’m looking for a book.” I turn to face her.

The smile on her face dims. Typical. “Oh. Which one?”

I pull out my phone and rattle off the three Zahra recommended. Meg quickly replaces the books for me and rings up my purchase.

“There you go.” She hands me the bag full of books.

The bell above the door rings. I look over my shoulder to replace Violet strolling inside with Delilah.

Fucking small towns.

I haven’t seen them in six years. While Violet’s hair color has changed back to her natural blond color, Delilah still looks the same, although the ring on her left hand and the cane she leans against are new to me.

Violet’s eyes connect with mine first. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” I hold up my bag.

Her nose wrinkles. “Since when do you read?”

“It took me a few decades, but I finally got the hang of it.”

“You think this is all some kind of joke?” Violet charges toward me.

Meg disappears behind a stack of books, leaving me to deal with the red-faced woman who used to be one of my friends.

“I’m not here to cause problems.” I keep my voice neutral, repeating the mantra that seems to follow me everywhere.

“So Alana says, but I have a hard time believing that.” Violet stabs me in the chest with her finger.

Delilah frowns as she tugs on her friend’s arm. “Come on, Violet. Just leave him alone.”

She glances over at her friend. “One second.” Her head slowly swivels back toward me like something out of a horror movie. “If you’re here to screw with Alana again—”

I stop her. “I’m not.”

“You’re still drinking,” she states.

“Is that considered a crime?”

“It’s pathetic,” she hisses. It’s nothing I haven’t heard before, yet having the words slung at me from someone who was once a friend cuts deeper than I care to admit.

You are pathetic.

A heavy weight presses against my chest, making breathing an impossible task.

Her upper lip peels back. “You’re no better than her sister, making all these promises and never following through.”

My hand holding onto the bag tightens until my nails bite into my skin. “I know. Why do you think I left in the first place?”

Her eyes bulge.

“If you don’t mind, I’m going to go now.” My feet feel like someone attached two anvils to them, making every step exponentially more difficult than the last.

I bypass my car and head directly toward Last Call at the end of Main Street. It is a locals’ spot, so my entrance stirs up whispers and glares from everyone gathered around the bar.

I stick to the unoccupied stool at the end of the counter, right across from a few people I recognize from around town.

The dark-haired bartender walks over to me with a frown. I remember him from one of Lana’s birthday parties, although his face has filled out and his muscles have muscles.

Henry shakes his head. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Vodka tonic, please.” I ignore him as I smack a fifty-dollar bill against the counter.

His scowl only deepens. “No.”

“Seriously?”

He crosses his bulging arms against his chest. “Isabelle warned us about you.”

For fuck’s sake. Did they have a town hall meeting about me?

“What did she say?”

The veins in his arms jump. “We’re not allowed to serve you.”

“Of course you’re not. That’s fine. I’ll just take my money elsewhere.” I snatch the bill and pocket it. I’m sure a nearby town will be more than happy to take my money and help me avoid an exchange like this again.

“Go to hell!” someone shouts from across the bar.

Little do they know, I’m already there.