Page 35 of Believing in a Billionaire (Hearts and Holdings #7)

“It’s done. The meeting is set. Thirty minutes at The Gilded Truffle.”

Grant replaced the receiver, swallowing hard. The restaurant, a notorious stronghold for illicit activities, made him nervous again. Was this the right move?

He questioned it several more times as he checked his phone for any word from his daughter. He hadn’t received a message from anyone. Another thing that made him nervous.

His mind drifted to the path that had led him here. From his first triumphant deal to the battles fought and won, to the faces of those he had loved and lost along the way. Each decision, each sacrifice, had been a step on the journey to this moment. Was he about to sacrifice too much?

Before he could think about it further, Mike appeared in his doorway. “Mr. Harrington, we should leave for the meeting.”

Grant swallowed hard and nodded as he slid his phone into his pocket and rose. Each step he took seemed to be one closer to his doom. They hit the streets before the sun had risen. The stars still twinkled in the sky above him, and the cool air swept past him in a rush.

Despite the icy chill in the air, it couldn’t stop the sweat from beading on his brow or his hands from turning clammy. The amount of money he needed to borrow was high. Borrowing from these people was risky at best.

The Gilded Truffle loomed before them, its opulent facade a stark contrast to the darkness of the night. Warm lights glowed from inside. Mike rapped his knuckles against the glass doors. A bulky bodyguard unlocked the door and stuck his head out.

“I have Grant Harrington to see Mr. Malone.”

The man pushed the door open more fully, motioning for them to enter.

Grant stepped past him into the richly decorated space.

Plush velvet seats and low-hanging chandeliers cast shadows that seemed to dance on the walls.

Anticipation hung heavy in the air. Voices reached his ears, chattering before laughter followed.

“Right this way,” the bodyguard said as he motioned toward the back. They threaded past the tables to a back booth. A group of burly men stood around one man who ate a steak.

He glanced at Grant as he sliced through the meat, blood oozing onto the plate before. “Grant Harrington. Well, I feel like I’m being visited by royalty.”

He waved his steak knife at the booth across from him. “Sit down.”

The man wiped his lips before he eyed Grant. “Can I get you something?”

“No, thanks,” Grant said, uncomfortable with the situation.

“Suit yourself.” The man cut another piece of steak and popped it into his mouth. “So, you find yourself a little short on cash.”

“I need a short-term infusion, yes. I’ll be in a position to repay it in a few months.”

“That’s confident. It’s a lot of money. You sound pretty certain.”

Grant lifted his chin. “I am. This situation is…temporary.”

The man rolled his tongue against his cheek before he snapped it against his teeth. “Hmm.”

Grant narrowed his eyes at him, not willing to back down. He needed to show strength in the negotiation no matter how uncomfortable it made him. “Can you get the money or not?”

“Oh, I can get the money.” He grinned at Grant, but there was something eerie about his smile. “I can make all your problems disappear.”

The statement was as ominous as it was tempting. But he refused to show his anxiety with the solution. He flicked his eyebrows up. “I assume you have some terms. A contract.”

The man gave him that evil grin again. “Boys,” he said, his eyes never leaving Grant, “tell Mr. Harrington how we handle contracts around here.”

Laughs erupted from the men surrounding them. Grant’s instincts screamed at him about the danger of the path he was about to take. Yet his desperation and the heavy weight of Harrington Global’s future pressed down around him, silencing the alarms.

“We don’t do paperwork. No lawyers, no signatures, no paper trails. Just a handshake and an understanding…an understanding that I give you the money, and you pay me back on time.”

The man flicked his eyebrows up. “And if you don’t? Well, I take it from you…piece by piece. Not from your company or your bank account, but from you personally, Mr. Harrington. From you, personally.”

Malone leaned closer, his eyes glinting in the dim light. “You know, Mr. Harrington, people who break deals with me find themselves…in challenging circumstances.” He paused, allowing the words to simmer between them before he offered a low laugh.

The threat hung clearly in the air. Grant swallowed hard, his heart thundering in his chest. This may be the only way to protect his legacy, but the threat to his family…to him…pressed down around him.

“So, what do you say, Mr. Harrington? Do we have a deal?” The man held his hand out toward Grant.

Grant eyed it, his mind sorting the risks one last time. Before he could finalize his decision, his phone rang. The ringtone sliced through the tension, startling him.

He slid it from his pocket, his heart stopping as he saw Julia’s name.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Malone, but this is my wife.”

The man smirked at him. “Well, then, you’d better take it.”

Grant bobbed his head as he rose from the booth and strode a few steps away as he answered, leaving his decision hanging in the balance. “Julia? What’s going on? Are you okay?” There was a desperate edge to his questions.

“Grant…” His stomach twisted at the sound of her voice: shaky, frightened, upset.

“Julia? What is it?”

“It’s Kyle.”

The way she choked out his name made his heart drop. Something had happened. And it wasn’t good.