Filthy Rich Husband

LOGAN

What kind of father plays matchmaker to his forty-one-year-old son?

Mine does. He’s a bored, sick old man who has nothing better to do with his time than play golf, nitpick on every single one of my moves, and show up at posh parties to critique young people.

He also notices the speck of nonexistent dust on the banisters. Not in that order. That’s my seventy-four-year-old father.

He likes to play the old-man card more than usual, especially when he needs to guilt-trip me into doing whatever the fuck he wants.

It usually works too.

What John Malory wants, John Malory gets.

He’s like a four-year-old kid with demands that do not cease. Hell, a four-year-old kid is probably less demanding and someone I could handle pretty easily.

A few months back, my father survived a major heart attack followed by bypass surgery. The surgery was a success, but it gave him ammo to throw pity parties and open up a new outlet of outrageous demands.

I’m about to find out what his latest one is.

It’s breakfast time. The nurse gives my father his medication. He’s fussy about the meds, but a little coaxing from the nurse’s side gets him to swallow them.

She’s a charming woman, and he’s got a soft spot for the smiling, chirpy ones, and Mrs. Glen is the perfect woman for this job.

He’s moody today and wants to have breakfast in his bedroom, so here I am, keeping up with my father’s order only because I don’t want to get into any arguments with the old man.

It usually ends up with the two of us turning up the volumes of our throats until one of us walks out of the room, which is usually me.

He sips his ginger tea and then places the cup on the table to speak. “I was talking to Richard just the other day at the club after our golf session.”

Uh-oh.

When his opening sentence starts with suspense, it’s usually not a good sign.

Richard Shirley and my father are good friends, the kind that drink together, occasionally go for fishing trips, and play cards. Those that went to strip clubs back in their day.

Their friendship dates back to their college days, when the two were known to be the college’s hot jocks and heartbreaker extraordinaire.

Shirley then worked alongside my father and helped him with the business. He also has a daughter named Maggie.

There was once a time when Maggie used to follow me everywhere. That was when she was a snot-dripping brat of eight and convinced that I was a life-size Ken, minus the blond hair.

Now she is a single mother who has gone through way too much for someone her age.

“Anything that would interest me?” I try to keep my tone casual.

He nods. “Yes, in fact, it has everything that should interest you.”

Not the kind of conversation I was looking forward to. I glance down at my Rolex.

“Father, I just remembered that I have an urgent meeting in ten minutes.” I brush the white crumbs of the toast from the trousers as I stand up to leave.

“If you’ll excuse me, the conversation will have to wait until I’m back this evening.”

“Sit. Down. Boy,” he demands. “Remy will drive you in five. Besides, no one is going to miss your absence in the office for ten bloody minutes. I already called your secretary, Paris, and told him you’re going to be late.”

“You did what?”

“I said sit down, Logan Alexander.”

When John tells you to sit, you sit.

“Why does this concern me?”

“Are you dating someone?”

“No, I haven’t got time for dating.”

“Tell me the truth, and I won’t be mad. I just have to know. Are you gay?”

I stare at my father incredulously. “If I’m not interested in dating women, does that mean I would be interested in men?”

“I don’t know, son. You tell me.” Then he raises a finger to stop me.

“If there’s a man in your life that you are hiding because you’re worried about my opinion, then you certainly shouldn’t. In my day, I’ve done my fair share of experiments, and I—”

“I’d rather be deaf than listen to your experiments. While I appreciate your support, Father, your concerns are unfounded. I like women, always have. I just don’t have time to find the right one.”

“I can solve that problem for you.”

I don’t need you to! I want to scream.

“I’m not going to any blind date that you’ve set up. You’re going to call them right now and tell them I’m busy.”

He completely ignores my outburst and points at the bedside table. “Can you pass me my reading glasses? I have to show you something.”

“Show me what?”

“You’ll see.”

The man is going to take all the time in the world and keep me in suspense.

Reluctantly, I hand them over to him, and he takes them with prolonged slowness, and then starts scrolling his iPad. I think he does this on purpose just to rile me up.

“I haven’t got all the time in the world,” I remind him.

He pulls up a picture on the device and shows it to me. It’s a picture of Maggie dressed in a bright red dress attending a party.

She’s got her hair in wild curls around her oval face. The dress hugs her curves perfectly like the dress is made just for her.

The next photo is of her walking out of a Starbucks, followed by a picture of her holding hands with her son.

“Are you stalking her? Why are you showing me this?”

“She’s a beautiful woman, isn’t she?”

“I have no doubt.”

“What are your thoughts about taking her as your wife?”

I gape at him.

“Maggie Shirley?!” I have to ask him twice to make sure that’s who he’s talking about.

“Yes, Maggie. What do you think of her?”

I think one murder should be legal.

My nostrils flare in unbridled fury. “You can’t be serious about this, Father! Maggie is twenty-three. She’s almost a kid. I’m eighteen years her senior.”

“She’s not a kid, Logan. She’s a mother to a child, a gorgeous woman, and quite capable of producing an heir. She’s a perfect young woman for you. What’s wrong with that?”

“Exactly what you said. Young, which I’m not.”

“Age is a number. If I were forty years younger, I’d marry her.”

“So do it. You marry her!” I snap at him.

The old man stares at me. “Would you be comfortable with a stepmother who was almost two decades younger than you? And a half-brother who is four? Imagine explaining that at the office.”

“Dad!”

“I thought so.”

“I’m not marrying Maggie or anyone else, for that matter. This is not up for discussion anymore.” I all but slam the teacup down on the table and start walking out the door.

“You’re my only child!” he screeches from where he’s seated in the chair.

“This hatred you have for women needs to end right now! If you’re going to be opposed to getting married, then how am I going to get to see my grandkids? Would I even see one before I die?”

“For god’s sake, Dad! Stop blackmailing me with your health. You’re not dying!”

“What are you punishing me for?”

“It’s my life! I get to decide what I want to do with it. If I die a bachelor, that’s on me. When are you going to learn to let this obsession of yours go?”

He looks like an older version of myself. Tall, handsome, but hunched due to old age, a permanent frown etched on his face.

“Is this because of your mother? Are you scared that every woman is going to turn out to be rotten like her?”

“Dad, please!”

“It’s the truth, isn’t it?” He grabs the walking stick and stumbles toward me. “That woman destroyed my life and left a little boy broken in her wake!”

“Stop!” I yell.

“Not every woman is as selfish as your mother. I made up for all the love you didn’t get from that bitch. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

I stare at my father. He looks far more tired than he usually is. It’s the old age and the company’s stress, that’s got to him.

John Malory used to be an imposing man, a man I looked up to. I still do to this day. He has done everything in his power to fill the gap of the missing parent, but there was so much a busy man like him could do.

There were nannies, though. They tried to make me feel better, and I guess I was getting the attention money could buy.

If there was any hope I used to have in women, it diminished through the years.

Women view me as an asset, a good source of income, but that’s about it.

I’m not a human anymore, just a walking bank balance.

“Imagine making the wrong decision and being tied to a wrong partner your entire life. If I considered a divorce, I would have to hassle myself with a lawyer and lose so much goddamn money in a divorce settlement.

“Don’t you ever regret your decision to marry my mother? Wouldn’t life be so much better if you hadn’t met her at all?”

“If I had a second chance, I would do it all over again in a heartbeat.”

“Why?”

“Because if I hadn’t married your mother, I wouldn’t have had you. Being with your mother was a small price to pay.”

I’ve never been more speechless in life.

I’m the kind of son that mothers would want for their daughters, but I always believed my father didn’t share the sentiment. He would have exchanged me for a rare Pokémon card if he ever got a chance.

“I won’t make the same mistakes that you have. If you need a kid, I’ll adopt one.”

He glares at me. “We support plenty of orphanages with thousands of those children. I need a kid from your loins.”

“Then I’ll hire a damn surrogate!”

Those last words are the final blow to his dreams.

I start leaving the room when he starts coughing. As my steps get hurried, the coughs get louder.

I know he’s faking it because he usually conjures up these coughs when he wants to gain sympathy and manipulate something out of me. In this case, it was a marriage and an heir.

I spin around to face him. “I’m not going to fall for the same tricks again.”

I bark at no one because my father is lying on the floor, clutching a hand to his chest.

At this moment I know my life is going to change forever.