The Billionaire's Island Romance(32)

“Now, the will as I remember,” Ned continued, “stated that my father should inherit the place instead since he is of sound mind and judgment. And since, as Arianna might have mentioned to you before, mental illness runs in the family with my mother suffering severe depression before she took her own life and Dad having bouts of dementia on and off, dear old Dad stipulated that Giles, Arianna’s father, should have this hotel as long as he is of sound mind.” Ned popped another raisin in his mouth chewing emphatically and making ‘mmm’ sounds.

“Now as we all know—and my lawyers will know soon—dear old brother isn’t exactly playing with a full deck of cards, if you know what I mean,” Ned said, making circular motions with his finger at his temple.

Arianna’s heart squeezed. She felt as if her head was about to explode. Her limbs felt weak.

“So that’s probably why Ari here didn’t want you to know we’re a mixed bunch of fruits. But in any case, the will states that if for some reason that Giles is not able to run this place by not being of sound mind or is deceased, then I get the facility.”

“And if you can’t for whatever reason be in control, then I’m named third in that will, Uncle Ned. You know it.”

Ned tilted his head back and laughed, almost choking on a raisin. Christian looked as if he was fuming, his eyes narrowed in contempt for the man.

“You and I both know, darling Arianna, that is not going to happen. Now you have,” he glanced at his watch, “twenty-four hours to hand over the papers. I have someone who could be interested in buying this place. We may rip it down and turn it into, oh, I don’t know, a strip bar or something. We can do this out of court or in court. Have it your way. But this place is mine. Bear in mind it could take years or a lifetime to contest the will.”

“Why would you do that to your own niece? She and her father worked hard for this place. Man, are you crazy?”

“Ha. No. I’m the true owner, and in fact, I don’t care for your presence here right now. Romero or not. There’s nothing you can do to me.”

Christian narrowed his eyes. A wicked grin on his lips. Arianna didn’t know what to think of what was going to happen next. He was a hot-blooded Romero and you didn’t want to mess with them or challenge them or mess with anyone close to them. That much she already knew.

“What did you just say?” Christian said, his jaw clenched.

“I said, I would like you to leave now and your family, too.”

“You can’t just take control like that, Uncle Ned. It takes time. There are laws in place.”

“Yeah, like laws about deception. You knew full well, your old man had lost his marbles long ago on that island in Europe and you kept it from me. How’s that for laws in place?”

“Speaking of which,” Christian stroked the stubble on his chin. He leaned back casually against the windowpane. “Didn’t you own several businesses in the Cayman Islands and a few up in Canada over the years?”

“Yeah, so what? Ooh, I’m shaking in my boots. You’ve had your investigators check me out. Good for you. Now get out!”

“But you made how many millions before your companies all went bust?”

“What are you getting at?”

“Didn’t you turn a huge profit of over $50 million dollars, putting the businesses in your ex-girlfriends’ names and sending them emails that they were not to let on that you were the owner?”

Ned loosened his tie. Sweat glistened obscenely on his face. “So freaking what?”

“Did you…um…” Christian casually picked up a magazine resting on the table and pretended to be interested in it, flipping through it. “…remember to report your earnings to the IRS?”

Ned froze.

Ned’s eyes appeared as if they were about to bulge out of his skull. “W-what?”

“The Internal Revenue Service,” Christian emphasized, trying not to grin, apparently.

“You know, I hear they can be real sticklers to U.S. citizens who forget to report revenue and evade taxes.”

Ned’s face went beet red. He looked as if a heart attack besieged him. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Oh, dear. Was that supposed to be your little secret, Ned?” Christian feigned surprise. “You know, our investigators estimated you owe probably $20 million or so in back taxes and we both know you don’t have that. Geez, what do you think the IRS would do to you, Ned, if they found out and you didn’t have the funds to pay them back?”

Ned flinched. He got up from his chair stumbling. He straightened himself up. “How did you…you…wouldn’t…”