Page 2 of Lucas (The Valeur Billionaires #2)

Chapter Two

AVA

F ather slams the folder on my polished mahogany desk. “You gave them too low a price,” he growls, his weathered face flushed with anger. The veins in his neck bulge above his starched collar.

I lower my voice, all too aware of how thin the office walls are. Everyone outside can hear us.

“I didn’t have a choice. Prescott Construction put in a bid nearly twenty percent below ours. If we don’t offer competitive prices, we’ll lose every project.”

Doesn’t he understand we need every contract, every dollar of revenue we can scrape together right now?

“No choice?” Father scoffs and throws his hands up. “There’s always a choice, Ava. Where’s that killer instinct? I can’t believe I’m handing my company over to someone so weak. Why the hell couldn’t I have had a son instead of you?”

Tears prick my eyes, but I blink them back. I won’t let him see me cry. “I just took over. Give me some time to?—”

“Time?” He laughs. “She wants more time,” he mumbles under his breath. “Darling, we don’t have more time. You’re going to run this company into the ground at the rate you’re going, practically giving projects away.”

No, Father. You ran the company into the ground, then left me to deal with the fallout, knowing full well I couldn’t dig us out of this hole. We’re on the verge of bankruptcy. I guess you wanted to blame your daughter instead of taking responsibility for your failures.

I bite my tongue, the scathing words I long to hurl at him echoing in my skull.

But as always, I can’t bring myself to say them to his face, to break out of the obedient, respectful daughter mold. So, I just lower my gaze to the blotter on my desk, the calendar blurring as tears swim in my vision.

Father leans forward, bracing his hands on the leather chair across from me.

“Your only saving grace is the Pearl Garden development deal. If you can land that whale of a contract, it might generate enough cash flow to pull us back from the brink. It’s the golden goose, Ava. Don’t you dare fuck it up.”

I grasp onto the project name like a lifeline. “Who is the developer?”

“They’re announcing it today. But it doesn’t matter. Whoever the developer is, you need to get your ass in their boardroom and walk out with that project. Gant Construction supplies Pearl Garden, or we go under. It’s that fucking simple. Understand?” His eyes bore into mine .

I nod.

“Good. Now, you listen to me. Do whatever it takes to close this deal.” He straightens to his full height, using it to intimidate as he always does.

“And I mean whatever it takes. Stop at nothing. When I get back from Vegas, I expect to see that contract on your desk with their signature on the bottom line.”

I slump back in my chair and close my eyes, exhausted. I never should have agreed to take over. Who am I kidding? I don’t even have the guts to stand up to my father.

But as Michael Gant’s only child, refusing was never an option.

Gant Construction will either rise from the ashes under my direction or go down in flames, taking me with it. At this point, I’m not sure which outcome I’m rooting for.

I knew the company was in rough shape, but I had no idea how dire things truly were until I got full access to the financials. We’re clinging to life by a thread, seconds from going under. Layoffs are inevitable at this point.

Sighing, I open my laptop and type “Pearl Garden Development” into the search bar with one finger. Let’s see which developer I need to pursue to keep us afloat.

“Miss Gant?” My assistant Bridget knocks and pokes her head in. “Jason Drewlo is here for his meeting.”

I glance at my watch and curse under my breath. I was supposed to meet with him fifteen minutes ago. “Send him in.”

I straighten and watch as a stocky man holding a hard hat enters my office, twisting the straps in his hands as he approaches my desk .

“Please, have a seat.” I gesture to the chair across from me.

He lowers himself into it, looking tense. “I’ve been a supervisor at Gant for a decade now,” he begins. “I’ve given everything to this company.”

I nod, already aware. I reviewed his personnel file earlier like I do with anyone who schedules a meeting. He’s a veteran employee with a solid track record. He even won “Employee of the Year” once.

“My wife and I recently had a baby girl, and?—”

“Congratulations,” I say with a polite smile.

“Thanks.” He ducks his head. “The thing is, I love working here, but it’s been four years since my last raise. And I know the other firms in town pay better.” He rushes the words out like he’s afraid to say them. “I asked HR, but they told me there won’t be any raises this year. So, I hoped…”

I take a slow breath, keeping my expression neutral even as my stomach twists. He wants a raise. At this rate, if we don’t get the Pearl Garden contract, I’ll be lucky if I can even afford to keep providing coffee in the breakroom. “I understand. Let me see what I can do.”

“Thank you. Really, thank you so much.” He stands, relief evident on his face. “This means a lot.”

I dig my nails into my palm and force a smile as I watch him leave, praying that the next time he walks into my office isn’t so I can hand him a pink slip.

Defeated, I open up my laptop again and click the search button. The results pop up. My stomach roils as I click the top link, the website for the South Bay Planning Commission, with a mounting sense of dread .

Please let it be a developer we can work with. Someone reasonable and above board. Anyone but?—

The developer’s name seems to mock me as it fills the screen in bold lettering.

Valeur Real Estate LLC.

My heart plummets, and white-hot panic surges through my veins.

I push back from my desk and walk to the windows overlooking downtown San Jose.

From this high up, I can see for miles—the bustling streets lined with palm trees, the glittering high-rises of the business district, the rolling golden hills in the distance.

On a clear day like this, I can even make out the vivid blue slice of the San Francisco Bay shimmering on the horizon.

Normally, the view soothes me, reminding me why I love this city, this valley of innovation and industry.

But today, it all just feels like a cruel mockery, an unattainable dream slipping through my fingers. I press my burning forehead against the cool glass, trying to regulate my breathing and slow my galloping heart.

Of all the developers in Silicon Valley, why did it have to be them?

I’d even take Prescott over Valeur. At least they don’t have a long, ugly history with my family.

But Valeur? They’re my father’s personal nemesis and have been for as long as I can remember.

I grew up hearing Father curse the Valeur name over numerous dinners.

It’s common knowledge in town that Gant and Valeur don’t do business together—we’re like oil and water.

Valeur tried to cheat my father on a deal years ago. The money was gone, and they had the audacity to blame him when it fell apart. We almost lost everything.

They’re ruthless, unscrupulous, and willing to knock out anyone who gets in their way. It’s no wonder they’ve built an empire with that kind of cutthroat tactics.

How the hell am I going to convince Valeur to throw Gant a bone and share the Pearl Garden bounty with us? It’ll be a cold day in hell before that notorious shark willingly lets us pick from his plate.

My cell phone rings, jolting me from my spiraling thoughts. I take a deep breath to steady myself before answering. “Valeur got the Pearl Garden bid,” I say.

“I know,” Father replies.

“They’ll never agree to work with us.”

Father swears under his breath. “Are you going to stand there and admit defeat or get your ass over to Valeur’s office and make him an offer he can’t refuse? Gant Construction needs this project, Ava. Your legacy depends on it. My legacy. I will not allow that Valeur prick to dance on our graves.”

“How? How am I supposed to convince him?” I pace across my office.

“By any means necessary. Jesus, Ava, do I have to spell it out for you?”

I freeze mid-step as the penny drops with a sickening clang. “Wait... You can’t possibly mean...”

“Come on, you’re a smart girl. Or at least you're supposed to be. You possess certain...attributes, my dear. I suggest you employ them.”

Bile surges up my throat, and I swallow hard. “But...I can’t?—”

“It's common knowledge that Valeur has a penchant for youthful, shall we say, less cerebral companions. He goes through them with alarming frequency. A batted eyelash here, a hint of leg there. If necessary, offer him a more...intimate experience. Whatever it takes to get him to sign on the dotted line.”

I squeeze my eyes shut against the onslaught of tears. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. My own father, pimping me out like a cheap whore. Was that always his plan?

“I don’t... I could never?—”

“Never say never, Ava. Remember, Gants always play to win. No matter what it takes.” He hangs up, leaving me listening to dead air. The phone slips from my numb fingers and clatters onto my desk.

Peter Valeur has to be pushing sixty, the same age as Father. He can’t possibly expect me to...

The realization makes me physically ill. I grab the trash can beside the couch and dry heave, nothing coming up but an endless cycle of gasping sobs that leave me wrecked.

An old memory surfaces, hitting me like a punch to the gut.

I’m six years old, staring down at the shiny red bicycle lying on its side in the grass, blood oozing from my skinned knees. Father told me not to come home until I learned to ride it.

“Gants never quit,” he said before walking away, leaving me alone in the empty park.

I pick up the bike with shaky hands and try again, wobbling and weaving as I struggle to keep my balance. I go a few feet before toppling over once more, this time landing hard on my arm.

Searing pain shoots through my shoulder, and I burst into tears, cradling my injured arm close to my body. But no one comes .

Slowly, painfully, I pick myself up off the pavement and limp my way back home, tears streaming down my face.

“Father?” I whimper as I stumble through the front door. “I hurt my arm.”

He takes one look at my tear-stained face and sneers in disgust.

“Jesus, Ava, stop blubbering. I don’t have time for this. Only babies cry,” he snaps. “Let me see it.”

I extend my arm, biting my lip to keep from crying out as fresh agony stabs through me. It’s bent at a funny angle.

“Goddammit. Now I have to waste my whole day taking you to the hospital. I can’t believe how useless you are. It’s riding a damn bike. How hard is that? Pathetic.”

I sniffle and wipe my face with the back of my hand. It’s no different now, is it? I’ve never had a choice when it comes to what Father expects from me. He’s made it clear once again. I do whatever it takes to succeed. To win. Even if I lose my dignity, and my self-respect.

My wants, my needs...they’ve never factored in. And they still don’t.

I have to be the one to save us. To save Gant Construction. To make Father proud.

Mind made up, I take a deep, shuddery breath and reach for my desk phone. “Bridget? Set up a meeting with the CEO of Valeur Enterprises. Somewhere public, a nice restaurant. Someplace I can make a good first impression.”

My loyal assistant hesitates for a beat before responding. “Of course, Miss Gant. I’ll arrange it.”

Even Peter Valeur wouldn’t cause a scene in a crowded restaurant.

My stomach churns as I imagine sitting across from him, knowing what my father expects me to do. What he’s ordering me to do.

But what choice do I have?

Father made himself perfectly clear.

When a Gant wants something, they get it.

No matter what it takes.

Even if it means throwing his only daughter to the wolves.