Ten Million Reasons Read online

  “Why would you settle on a paternity suit if you’re not the father?”

  Richard sighed and half-said, half-asked, “It’s complicated?”

  Now we’re getting somewhere.

  In reply, she simply said, “I’m listening.”

  “I knew the woman in question. We had, uh, been intimate at one time. It was not my most stellar moment. She got into some trouble.”

  “What kind of trouble?” Genevieve asked.

  “I don’t want to drag her name through the mud.”

  “You said you’d be an open book,” she countered.

  “Yes, but this is her book, not mine. It’s not fair for me to open her book to you.”

  Nodding, she said, “Fair enough. Then tell me your chapter in it.”

  Richard crossed his arms and stretched his feet out in front of him. “Through me, she met someone I knew in college. He ended up making some bad choices. She got pulled down with him. Drugs, everything. Shortly after he died of an overdose, she learned she was pregnant. She sued me for paternity.”

  “But the child wasn’t yours?”

  “No, not mine,” he said.

  When she asked, “Baby belonged to the overdose friend?” he nodded. “Why did you settle?”

  “I knew the baby wasn’t mine, and she knew the baby wasn’t mine. Thinking I would reason with her and get her to drop the suit, I went to see her. The place she was living in might have once been called a hovel but had since sunk far below that title. For the baby’s sake, she was trying to stay clean, but all her neighbors, everyone around here, were using. She wanted to do right by the baby and was terrified of getting pulled back into the life. She was a good sort who got trapped in a bad situation because I had introduced her to a man who got her hooked on drugs.” When Genevieve continued to stare at him expectantly, he continued, “I wanted to help her out, but if I gave her money and she dropped the suit, it would look like bribery, an admission of guilt.”

  “Settling the suit looks like an admission of guilt,” she countered.

  “Tell me about it. At the time it seemed like the best idea. The terms of the settlement were clear. I would not be named on the birth certificate, and she would never again claim I was the child’s father.”

  “That’s her part. What was your part of the settlement?”

  “Money,” he answered, with a nuance in his voice she couldn’t name.

  “How much?”

  “I paid for her to get into a special rehabilitation center for the remainder of her pregnancy. It kept her clean so her baby could get the best possible start in life. My attorney set up an independent fund to pay for the baby’s college when the time came. I also bought her a modest house in a decent neighborhood out in a Midwest community near her family to help her get on her feet.”

  “Do you stay in touch?”

  “I get a Christmas card each year. She stayed clean and met a wonderful man. They’re married with two more children and are living the American dream.” His clipped tone said he was done discussing the topic.

  “You never contact her?”

  Richard, resignation in his eyes said, “I can’t. It would feed the rumors, and neither she nor I would ever get any peace about it. The boy doesn’t need to be confused. I’m not his father. If I were a part of his life in any way, the media would have never let it die. Her husband legally adopted the boy and loves him like crazy. Keeping as far removed from them as possible is what’s best for everyone.”

  “How do I know I can believe what you tell me?” Genevieve thought she saw a flash of sadness cross Richard’s face and almost wished she hadn’t said those words. She couldn’t say why, exactly, but she did believe him. The journalist in her, however, had asked the question anyway.

  His posture forcibly relaxed, Richard answered, “You have to decide for yourself whether or not you can trust me. It’s important you figure that out. The sooner the better.” He got up then and walked over to a refrigerator hidden in the woodwork of the office. Pulling out a bottle of water, he asked her, “Do you want one?” When she shook her head, he opened his and took a long drink before returning to his seat. “Next question?”

  Genevieve felt off balance. She couldn’t say exactly what had changed, but she knew she’d lost control of the interview. Discomfort settled into her stomach like sand: hot, angular, and heavy. She didn’t want to keep prying, but neither was she ready to leave. Seeing nothing for it, she asked the next questions. “Have you ever taken drugs?”

  He laughed. “You’ve got to brush up on your journalistic skills, Gen. Yes, I’ve taken drugs. Over-the-counter pain meds, an occasional antibiotic, those sorts of drugs. Have I ever taken any illegal drugs? No. Have I ever abused legal prescription drugs? No.”

  “Do you drink?” Then, catching the look he gave her, she added, “Alcohol. Do you drink alcohol?”

  “I drank socially when I was younger. Teenage rebellion, I guess you could say. Seeing how my father’s drinking tore my grandparents up put a stop to that. Then, when he died, I knew for sure I’d never touch another drop of the stuff.”

  “Tell me what you think are the most destructive rumors in circulation about you.” The remaining questions in her notebook seemed trite at this point, but she didn’t want him to stop talking.

  “To be honest, Gen, I don’t pay a lot of attention to the rumors. I know who I am, so I don’t worry about what other people say.”

  “Do the rumors ever scare people away? I read one article that painted you as some sort of evil genius plotting to take over the country. Another said you were paying off certain members of congress to smooth over business deals you have with the government. They both had a lot of ugly accusations in them.”

  “Did you believe them?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?” He sounded genuinely interested in her answer.

  “There were a lot of wild claims about you but no verifiable facts. In my experience, when a person has proof, it gets used. When there are no facts to back up the assertions, the writer spins it to make it sound believable but provides no evidence to support the statements being made.”

  Richard gave her a sad smile and said, “The people whose opinions matter to me know me well enough to know when to discard something they hear and when to worry.” Setting his water bottle down, he added, “I don’t read the tabloids or follow the gossip columns. None of those people know me, and none of their opinions matter to me.”

  He leaned forward then and said, “I would hazard a guess that the reason you didn’t recognize me on sight is because you don’t read those things either.”

  Genevieve first regarded her notebook then Richard. It was true. She didn’t read the society page and avoided tabloid journalism altogether because she found it so unreliable. She finally sighed and put her notebook away.

  Surprise lighting his blue eyes, he asked, “Are you through?”

  Not sure she was making the right choice, Genevieve said, “I’m done asking questions. I don’t promise that I won’t have other questions in the future, but I’d like to hear this proposal you keep talking about.”

  With a smirk that spoke of self-derision, he said, “Then I guess it’s my turn to do the talking.” He stood again, fidgety. After he took his suit jacket off and got another drink of water, he began.

  “When my father graduated college, my grandfather wanted to give him the same chance in life he’d been given. He cut my father off financially.” Genevieve raised an eyebrow but listened as he continued. “I guess I should rephrase that. Granddad cut off any monthly allowance or ongoing financial support to my father. Instead, he gifted him with ten million dollars and told him to go make a name for himself in the world.”

  “Your grandfather sounds both honorable and prudent.”

  “I like to think so,” Richard replied. He began pacing as he continued his explanation. “My father, sadly, didn’t see it that way. He used the money to find himself a rich heiress. Tha
t’s where my mother came in. She was the sole child of a very wealthy family, old money wealthy. Her family had been in the tobacco business for over two hundred years. Putting his ten million dollars to good use,” he said, his voice laced with sarcasm, “my father enticed a wealthy woman into marriage and ended up with hundreds of millions more without ever having to work a day in his life.”

  Genevieve frowned but stopped herself from saying what was on her mind. What a waste.

  “When I graduated college, my grandfather sat me down for a man-to-man. Father was dead, and Mom was becoming alarmingly self-absorbed by then. My grandfather gave me the same speech, told me he was going to give me the same chance in life he’d been given. He gave me ten million dollars and encouraged me to get out there and make a name for myself, told me he was trusting me to do it right. I knew what he meant.”

  “Your grandparents didn’t want you to end up like your parents.” Genevieve wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Her family might be overbearing at times, but they were all good hardworking people who loved and supported each other. She couldn’t imagine having parents so awful that growing up to be like them was something to be frowned upon, or worse, feared.

  “It’s okay,” Richard said, ostensibly sensing Genevieve’s discomfort. “If I feel pressured not to end up like my parents, it’s my own doing. My grandparents could have used the way my father turned out as an excuse to either be really hard on me or overly permissive, but they didn’t. They never once compared me to my father. I’m sure it had to be on their minds, but they never said things like that to me. They simply loved me and tried to teach me by example. I could always count on them to praise me when I made right choices and to call me on it when I made bad choices.”

  “They were fair,” she said.

  “Yes,” he replied. Then, running a hand through his hair and looking uncomfortable, he went on, “Within three years I got myself involved in the acquisition and sale of two different dot coms. Instead of ten million dollars, I had over four hundred million.”

  Genevieve didn’t outwardly react. She’d read about this during her research, but hearing him say the words still stunned her. I can't even comprehend how much money that is.

  “It was insane. Life became crazy. I became famous, and I didn’t want to be. My grandparents helped to keep me grounded and to navigate the shark-infested waters of big money. Wealth had been a part of my life from the time I was born, and I was used to people wanting to use me for my name or money. Despite that, I was anything but prepared. Making it big in the technology business brought out a whole new breed of hunter, and I was the game being mercilessly stalked and cornered.”

  “That sounds miserable,” she said, sympathy tugging at her heart. Since when did it occur to you to feel sorry for someone because they’re rich?

  Richard smiled, enthusiasm lighting his face. “It was awful, and it made me decide to get out of the world of internet start-ups. So, wanting a change, I started this company.” Richard’s expansive wave encompassed everything around them. “We are a multi-national financial conglomeration. I buy struggling businesses, get them on their feet again, and then sell them for a profit.” Having apparently given up on pacing, Richard sat down again but continued tapping out a nervous rat-a-tat-tat with his toe.

  “Doesn’t that get boring after a while?”

  “Never!” The smile on Richard’s face was genuine. “Resting on my laurels is out of the question. I have to constantly learn new things. Buying companies in different countries means I have to understand their customs and cultures, discover ways to make the business successful within that context. Even if all I bought were American companies, I’d still never get bored because there are so many different enterprises out there. Learning the individual markets, sometimes even the process of manufacturing or designing, not to mention the competitors – it never gets boring. Last year was sardines, this week is newspapers, in six months it may be toilet cleaner or marble countertops. It never gets old. And it’s almost always fun.”

  Enthusiasm sped his words like a locomotive on a downhill stretch of track. “I get to meet interesting people in different parts of the world who are in different situations and circumstances. There are some detestable people out there. There are also, however, some amazing people who have faced horrible obstacles and found a way to overcome them, people who have found something to strive for in life against all odds. I can’t imagine ever doing anything else.”

  “That’s not all Blakely Enterprises does, though, is it?”

  Shaking his head, Richard added, “Not by a long shot. We are quite diverse, but while I oversee everything, I don’t necessarily keep my fingers in every pot.”

  “It sounds fascinating,” Genevieve said, “but I still don’t know what it has to do with me.”

  Richard leaned back in his chair, his face suddenly guarded. “My grandfather changed his will after my mother died. He left everything in trust with two conditions.” Genevieve didn’t know what to say, so she remained quiet. “I would inherit everything on my thirtieth birthday, but only if I was married.”

  She knew his age from her research. Twenty-nine. His thirtieth birthday would be next month. “And if you’re not wed?” He wants me to write an article to help him find a wife?

  “If I’m not wed, it all goes to charity. Granddad named the charity in his will.”

  “Okay…” Genevieve let the word hang. She couldn’t put a name to it, but there was a distinctively uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  “I knew about the will long before my grandfather died. I was fine with it until last month when I learned something that turned everything upside down.”

  “What?”

  “The charity the money was to go to has changed hands. Apparently the new owners bought it because they were aware of the will. They are waiting for my birthday so they can get their hands on the money, and then they plan to close the charity.”

  “Can they legally do that?”

  “Because the charity is privately owned, yes, they can. But I won’t let them. It’s imperative that I get married. I won’t let everything my grandfather worked for go to waste financing a bunch of people who are looking for quick money and the easy way out.”

  “Your birthday is next month. What happens if the charity owners find out you got married only to prevent them from getting the money? And how do you plan to find a wife?” Genevieve’s voice hitched on the last word. Come on, he was never mine to begin with. I won't be a baby about this! We never even got to a second date. Technically, we didn't even have a first date. Let it go.

  “People get married for convenience all the time. I don’t think that’ll be a problem, but it would be best if no one was told about why the wedding is taking place so quickly until the trust is fully settled. I don’t want to give the charity a chance to contest the will. As for the other…” He cleared his throat and studied her face for a moment.

  “That’s where you come in,” Richard said kindly. “I thought the survey was a great way to find some women who had good priorities.” Then, offering her an intoxicating smile, he pulled out a sheet of paper, “Do you remember what you spent your imaginary millions on?”

  Shaking her head she said, “Not entirely, no.”

  “Let me refresh your memory,” he said, before beginning. “You bought six hundred thousand dollars in savings bonds to be divided among your six nieces and nephews to help pay for their college. Then you bought brand new hybrid vehicles for your mother, father, brother, sister, sister-in-law, and yourself. Your sister’s mortgage got paid off next, followed by your brother’s and your own. Thirty thousand dollars was allocated for diapers, wipes, and other miscellaneous baby supplies for your brother’s family. I’m assuming that’s enough to last them quite a while,” he said, with a quirked eyebrow. “You spent over a hundred thousand dollars buying clothes for all of your nieces and nephews.” Then, after a brief pause, he asked, “The note you ty
ped in says ‘size up’ for the clothes. What did you mean by that?”

  Discomfited at the discussion of her imaginary expenditures, she said, “They’re all still growing. I was going to buy clothes for the sizes they are now and then each size after, too, so they’d have clothes to grow into. It made sense at the time.”

  Giving her a reassuring smile, Richard said, “Rightly so. It does make sense. Good thinking.” Looking back down at the list, he said, “Then you went on to spend forty thousand dollars purchasing gift cards for department stores, grocery stores, and online retailers for each of the adults in your family. You also gave half a million to one local church and half a million to another. What made you decide which churches?”

  “I grew up attending one, and I attend the other now. They’re both good churches with fair people who would take the money and do something productive with it.”

  Smiling, he said, “I didn’t think you’d randomly selected two names.” He winked at her before continuing, “You gave another half million to support a missionary fund and a quarter million to a Christian school for their scholarship fund.” Laughter in his voice, he said, “Then you went and got a little wild with a shopping spree for yourself. Clothes, new furniture, landscaping, plus a new air conditioner and roof installed on your house for a grand total of seventy-five thousand dollars.”

  Genevieve was uncomfortable, “I know it sounds extravagant…”

  Richard cut her off, “Not at all. I’m sorry if I embarrassed you. Let me finish, and then I’ll explain.” He went on to say, “You set up everyone in your family with generous retirement accounts then went on to give one million dollars to a charity that helps families of soldiers killed in action and another million to a charity helping soldiers wounded in the line of duty. Then,” he said, with a smile, “when you got to the end, and found you still had about a quarter of a million left to spend, you gave it all to a clown college scholarship fund.”

  Genevieve was looking down at where her fingers were strangling the material of her skirt. She wanted to defend her choices, but she kept quiet, hoping he wasn’t making fun of her. His voice was exotic spice glazed in sweet frosting when he said, “Gen, look at me.” Unable to resist the magnetic pull, she raised her eyes to his. “I’m not laughing at you, hon, honest.” Hon. The way he said that one word sent chills down her spine.