The Billionaire's Proposition (The Romero Brothers, Book 4) (15 page)

She reached her arms across his shoulders
and hugged him tightly. She did not want to let him go. Her heartbeat pounded
furiously inside her, blood roared through her veins. She would die if anything
ever happened to Carl.

“My God, this is serious!” Pamela
exclaimed. She looked as if the blood had been siphoned from her face. Her jaw
fell open when Carl and Venus explained the situation.

It was seven o’clock in the morning and
Carl, Venus, Jules and Pamela had all convened in Pamela’s hotel suite down the
main corridor.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Carl said,
running his fingers through his hair. It was a mindless habit he’d given up
years ago whenever he felt jittery. He hadn’t felt that way in years, until
last night.

“I dug up some info from an online search
under Nadya Kosorokwii, sometimes spelled Nadja,” Jules reported, a phone held
to his ear.

Jules had followed Carl’s early morning
instruction and ran to a retailer that was open to get a disposable cell phone
so that they could make a few calls to their contacts overseas.

“It’s a good thing we’re in Vegas,” Carl
said, “At least when you sent those texts earlier, it could only be traced to
the U.S. If anyone of his thugs found out, we’d be long gone to Canada by
then.”

“Yeah, good thing.”

“What are you doing?” Venus interjected.

“We’re just making sure we can locate him.
We know your country’s authorities are searching for him but we just want to
make sure he doesn’t have any contacts with the local police, if you know what
I mean,” Carl added.

“Right, I see,”
Venus
said, her voice sounding lifeless.

“Yeah, ever wonder how he was able to
escape from maximum security in Murumba?” Jules posed, leaning by the counter.

“I can guess,” Venus said bitterly.

“We’ve heard a lot about corrupt officials
in your country being paid huge sums of money to do favors for inmates. We’re
not going to take any chances. We’ll make sure he’s caught,” Carl vowed.

“Hey,” Carl turned his attention to Jules.
“Did you get the text image of him?” His lips were curled in disgust.

“Oh, yeah. He’s as ugly as he sounds,”
Jules commented. “Here’s his most recent mug shot. Our men are on it now. Even
if he tries to use a disguise, we can nail him. He’s over six-foot-five and
apparently has a huge scar on the side of his face. Can’t miss it.”

“And a limp,” Venus added, anxiety eating
her alive inside. “He also limps. He had an injury as a child, so we’ve
learned.”

“Okay. That information will help a lot. It
won’t be too long, trust me,” Jules continued. “And even if he’d paid
authorities with what limited funds he has left. If it means we outbid them, so
be it. Criminals belong behind bars. Period.”

“Good,” Carl said. Never in his life had he
felt bitter anger directed at someone. Anyone who would even think of doing the
unspeakable acts that man had done deserved to pay the price in the legal
system.

“In the meanwhile,” Pamela chimed in, “if
you two still want to go ahead as planned for Carl’s nomination bid, there is a
way around things where Venus is concerned.”

“As long as Venus is protected, I’m game,”
Carl said with an air of authority.

“Well, she will be,” Pamela assured. “You
have the option of not releasing the names of your wife and children in your
run for mayor, Carl. The government does respect the right to privacy for the
families of local politicians and candidates.”

“Good,” Carl said.

“So, what we’ll do is just note on your
official bio that you are married with a step-son—which you are, so no
deception there. No mentions of names at this point. It’s not necessary. And of
course, if and when you win, we can have Venus dressed in such a way that media
attention is not focused on her. Very few people care much for the immediate
family members of local politicians—unless, of course, there is
controversy … or scandal. But there are strict privacy laws in place. So it’s a
go.”

Carl was relieved. He could see across the
room that Venus was content with the arrangement, too. Now all he had to do
when he returned to Canada was to announce his intent to run as a married man
with a child. And pull out all the stops to make sure the thug that ruined his
wife’s life was back behind bars—for good.

The following week, the headlines were
buzzing: Carl Romero announces his run for mayor!

Carl was on his way to Channel 31 Studios
for a brief interview. His cell phone was vibrating like crazy, nonstop. The
phones at his office and at his official residence were just as hectic. He knew
there would be some interest given the family he was a part of and recent press
he and his brothers had received, but he could not have imagined the magnitude.

He glanced at the digital display clock on
the dashboard of his new Ford Explorer. Okay, so it wasn’t his BMW or his
Corvette, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to be flaunting his riches now that
he was an official mayoral candidate. Besides, it wasn’t about the
money,
it was the good things that could be done to help
others that counted, that mattered.
 

A tsunami of thoughts washed through Carl’s
mind, raising the tide of his emotions. Venus rushed into his mind as well.
Sweet innocent Venus, and the hell she’d gone through in her life coming from
an impoverished background and living in a society that would not or could not help
her. The impact of learning what had happened to her in the past sent
shockwaves searing through his body.

And then, there was that Achilles heel of
his, Eduardo Meritos. Since Carl had returned to Canada, his mind was obsessed
with thoughts of getting even with Eduardo, making sure he paid dearly for what
he’d done to Venus—and her family. Still no good news on his whereabouts
but Jules assured Carl that leads were in place and they were getting closer to
the mystery surrounding Meritos’s escape.

Carl pulled up to the curb at 490 Chancery
Lane to make his monthly stop. He often came by that address. His brothers and
he lived at number 123 and lost that home. He switched off the ignition and
reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. Another large check was
inside it. He wasn’t quite up
front
with Venus either,
even though they had a marriage contract. He didn’t want Venus to know about
Clarissa. Not yet. He would tell Venus when the time was right. She had way too
much on her mind at the moment. He only hoped that now that he was running for
office, Clarissa would not come public about
their
—little
agreement.

Carl exited the car and looked around. The
road was quiet at this time of the day. It was almost the noon hour. He opened
the side entrance of the building. Luckily, another resident, an older man, was
entering at the same time. He slipped in behind the man. Carl then scooted up
to apartment 14A. He stood outside the door, hesitant for a moment, his jaw
clenched. He could feel pain stabbing his chest. His eyes stung from moisture.
He drew in a deep breath and placed the envelope on the ground before sliding
it through the gap at the bottom of the door. He looked around to see if anyone
had seen him.

He then walked out casually, as casually as
he could
considering
that he was walking through a
low-income building and yet, dressed in an expensive gray suit and silk blue
tie. He surely didn’t look like he belonged there.

It was time to face the cameras.

“So, it is official then,” Breena, the Channel
31 News at Noon host, commented to the cameras in the studio. Carl sat in the
guest chair adjacent to her. “Businessman Carl Romero has just filed his formal
nomination papers yesterday morning amid considerable media attention. Mr.
Romero is here with us today to answer a few questions.”

Breena then turned her attention to Carl.
“Welcome to News at Noon, Mr. Romero. So glad you could join us today. I know
you must be extremely busy right now.”

“Glad to be here, Breena, but please, call
me Carl.”

“Okay, so, Carl, first, let’s begin with
the first thing you’d like to do if you got into office,” Breena adjusted the
pink glasses on her face, looking pointedly at Carl. She was an eclectic
commentator. He’d been watching her for years. She can be grilling one minute
and nice the next.
A well-educated journalist with a master’s
degree in political science from Harvard.

“Well, Breena, the first thing is to freeze
property taxes. For the past several
years
property
taxes have been going up yet incomes have remained stagnant. I promise that
property taxes will not go up this year. We can make deep cuts to city spending,
which is far too excessive.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “Right. But you do
realize that your opponents have made it clear that you’ll need to cut back on
valuable municipal services in order to accommodate a property tax freeze?”

“Breena, people want an end to annual tax
hikes and they want an end to unnecessary, wasteful spending. There are
services that are underused and other services that require much attention.
It’s all about balancing the budgets and making sure that taxpayers come first
and don’t end up with unfair expenses.”

“Okay. And what is something you can do to
help make the city more affordable?”

“We need to create additional better paying
jobs and build more affordable housing. Period. We have plenty of vacant plots
in the city that would be perfect.”

“Now, speaking of plots. It’s true that you
come from one of the most prominent real estate dynasties in the province.
Wouldn’t this be a conflict of interest?”

“Oh, no. My grandfather came here as an
immigrant and worked tirelessly from an impoverished childhood into a
successful businessman and he gave us plenty of insight into working hard to
make our own ways in life, not relying on what he’s accomplished. He has
nothing to do with this. I assure you, we never have ridden on his coattails.”

“Right, and you grew up in quite a modest,
or should I say, challenging family situation before you came to know your
famous grandfather, Antonio Romero.”

“Yes. My parents had it hard. My mother
spent a great deal of life battling cancer that…” Carl swallowed hard. He had
to shift his focus on to the issues. Not on his personal life. “…
took
her from us,” he finished his sentence quietly,
fighting to keep his voice calm. “My father ended up losing his job and between
that and the property taxes, it was all too much and-”

“You ended up homeless,” Breena was all too
eager to finish the sentence for him. She had a look of amazement on her face.
“Wow, it’s such an incredible rags to riches story.”

“Well, not rags to riches, Breena. It’s all
about perseverance. It’s about getting that break. We got a break and we…I want
to give taxpayers a break, too. There are currently too many people losing
their homes because of property taxes going through the roof, as high as seven
percent a year. That’s ridiculous. Meanwhile, services that are not being used
are getting all kinds of money thrown at them.”
 
Determination flooded through Carl. “When
I’m in office, I’m going to put an end to this mindless misuse of people’s hard
earned monies and put it where it belongs.
With the people.
For the people.”

Breena nodded, her brow arched slightly.
“Oh, we have a caller. Yes, you’re live on the air, caller number one.”

“H-hi. Am I on the air?” a gruff voice
sounded over the speakerphone on the coffee table in front of the host and
Carl.

“Yes, you sure are. Do you have a question
for our candidate, Carl Romero?”

“Um. Yeah. My name is Dave. I work in a
factory. Um…this Carl guy. He’s so rich and good looking and famous. What does
he know about being a hardworking struggling family man? I have three kids, a
wife, and two cats. One of my cats needs surgery. How can we possibly afford
that? Sure, Carl makes all these promises. But what does he care if he can’t
deliver? And what about the crime rate in the city? What’s he gonna do about
that?” The caller was clearly worked up.

“I’m afraid that’s too many questions,
Dave. You can only pose one question at a time,” Breena interjected.

The caller’s words stung Carl for some
reason. He knew it would be difficult. He was the youngest contender, and true,
the past decade was good for him compared to his earlier life.

“Well, Dave, I can answer a couple of your
questions. I know we’re pressed for time right now. I’m truly sorry about your
situation and your cat.” Carl genuinely was. Carl’s family dog, a golden
retriever named Louis, had died soon after his mother passed away and the
heartache never went away. They couldn’t afford vet care at the time.

“I can tell you this,” Carl continued, his
gut ached thinking about Venus and the pain she’d gone through inadvertently
forced to work for a guy who ended up being a dangerous crime lord in her town.
“My office will be working with members of the community, the police services,
and the schools to talk about the wave of gun violence in the city’s west end
and cleaning up the streets.
 
We
need to combat this rash of events we’ve seen recently. And we will.”