Just One Night (The Kingston Family #1) - Carly Phillips Page 0,33

while since they’d had a civil conversation of any kind, and he sure as hell didn’t expect one now.

Over the years, they’d run into each other at charity events and industry functions, but Beck would merely glare. As far as Linc was concerned, he’d already done his mea culpa and had punished himself plenty. He might feel bad but he refused to grovel. His actions back then hadn’t been intentional.

Linc never believed the fact that he and Beck ended up in the same business and competing against each other for building and land deals had been part of some master plan of revenge. Beck had always wanted to make money and use real estate to accomplish his goal. But whether this particular deal with Linc’s father was simply good business or an opportunity to get back at Linc, he didn’t know.

He arrived at Beck’s office in Lower Manhattan, his mood foul not just from the issue at hand but the ridiculous amount of traffic Max had hit while driving downtown. Linc hadn’t called or made an appointment on purpose, not wanting to give his nemesis time to prepare.

Instructing Max to wait, Linc walked into the entrance, impressed despite himself. Beck owned the entire building, which had a 1930s hotel-like feel, with polished concrete floors, black-steel-framed windows, and brushed brass fixtures. It was glamorous and completely unlike the Kingston Enterprises décor. Linc’s offices and the rental models Chloe designed were more traditional than this admittedly cooler look. Chloe had often asked Linc to allow her to mix things up, but he preferred to play it safe when it came to most things. Safe sold.

A doorman directed him to the top floor, where Beck Realty’s offices were located. The rest of the building, he rented to other businesses.

Stepping off the elevator, he was facing a grand marble desk with a pretty woman sitting behind it.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“I’m here to see Mr. Daniels.”

The woman met his gaze. “Do you have an appointment, Mr.…?”

“Kingston. Linc Kingston, and no, I don’t, but he’ll see me.” Linc was certain.

Apparently the brunette behind the desk didn’t agree, her expression skeptical as she picked up the phone and dialed. “A Mr. Linc Kingston is here to see Mr. Daniels,” she said, pursing her red lips. She waited, tapping her nails on the desk. “What? He will?” she asked, obviously surprised. “Thank you.”

Glancing up, she said, “Mr. Daniels’s secretary will be out in a moment to take you to his office.” With that pronouncement, she looked Linc over, now interested in who would get past her to see the king without an appointment.

Linc didn’t crack a smile back. He wasn’t in the mood.

Delicate footsteps sounded, and he looked up in time to see another young woman, this one with auburn hair, walking down a hall and stopping at the desk. “Mr. Kingston?”

“Yes.”

“Right this way, please.” She gestured for him to follow her, and he did, winding his way past other offices and windows with a fabulous view of Manhattan before stopping behind a closed door with Beck’s name on it.

“You can go in,” she said before taking her seat behind her desk.

Linc drew a deep breath and walked in without knocking first and shut the door behind him. He didn’t want an audience for this conversation.

Ready for him, Beck stood behind his desk. “Linc.” A smug smirk settled on his face, visible despite the heavy scruff of beard.

“Beck.”

“I was sorry to hear about your father,” Beck said.

Considering the man stood to gain in Kenneth’s absence, Linc wasn’t so sure, but since he sounded sincere, Linc nodded. “Thank you.”

“Since you’re here, I assume you know about our deal.” Beck gestured for Linc to sit.

He preferred to stand. “If by our, you mean you and my father, yes. I figured it out despite your attempt to string me along, wondering.”

Beck didn’t deny it.

“What will it take to make this go away?” Linc asked.

Beck, dressed in dark jeans and a burgundy long-sleeve shirt, another stark contrast to Linc, who wore a suit, tipped his head. “I can’t. The contract for the property we agreed to buy is signed. We close in one month. I need your father’s share of the money to complete the transaction with the seller.”

Linc set his jaw. He had no doubt Beck had the money, or a bank or private lender he could turn to. Linc’s money, however, was tied up. He didn’t have the kind of liquid cash he’d need to fund his upcoming