Page 7 of Flynn

But his mind was not on the game. He had escaped to the club where he was a member to get his head on straight. For the last year or so, he had buried himself in work. His life had been less than straightforward.

Unlike Liam, Adam, and several exclusive club members, he did not come from money. He was the product of a single mother; the man who had planted the seed had left right after hearing that she was pregnant and was killed five years later in a motor vehicle crash.

His mother had worked feverishly to care for him and made sacrifices that Flynn would never forget. At the tender age of ten, he had vowed to her and himself that he would make something of himself. He followed that up by working at a construction site when he was only fourteen and attending high school.

Food and the basic necessities had been scarce, and it had pained his heart to see his mother working three jobs just to survive. When he turned eighteen, he applied for a scholarship and got it. While attending college, he formed essential connections. It helped that he was charming, friendly, and brilliant.

College girls flocked to him, taking him home to meet their parents. He had gone for one main reason: to sit with the rich and influential to learn from them.

His hunger for riches had paid off when he turned twenty-five. The money he saved while working had been put to excellent use.

He picked up the glass of blended scotch and took a sip in appreciation. He had worked hard and long hours because of his hunger to be someone. And to provide for his mother. His daring bets had paid off even beyond his wildest expectations.

He had studied architecture in college and graduated with a double major, which included business. He knew every aspect of construction and had ideas beyond scope.

He did not like the ordinary - whenever he saw a building, there was the compulsion to take it to another level.

He had started with houses, buying and flipping them, then selling them for a handsome profit. His reputation had proliferated, and it helped that he had aligned himself with the right people.

When he turned twenty-five, he was astonished and gratified to realize that his net worth was in the millions, but he had not stopped there. The minute he could afford it, he had taken his mother out of the shabby apartment and set them up in a house he had built from scratch.

He did not mind sharing the place with her because he had an entire wing. And she was delighted and eager to play hostess. She handled the household completely, never bothering him with trivialities like who to hire or what to prepare for dinner.

The downside to his success was that people were always fawning over him and inviting him to some stupid event. Politicians courted him because they needed his financial backing, and women climbed over themselves to be available to him.

With grim determination, he allowed his mind to wander back to Gracie. He had met her at one of those interminably long and tedious dinners and was about to make excuses and take his leave when she came over. Her wit and delicate beauty had caught his attention immediately.

"Surely you are not thinking of leaving?" She had asked in her cultured voice.

"And if I am?"

"I would have to use my superpowers and persuade you to stay."

He usually would have brushed off what was an obvious ploy to get his attention, but the twinkle in her light blue eyes and the smile hovering on her rosebud lips had stopped him.

"What is that superpower?" He asked, playing along.

"Shall we discuss it over drinks?" Linking her hand through his arm, she had led him to the bar, where they spent an hour talking about everything and nothing. He had asked to see her again, and she had laughably told him that she thought he would never ask.

She had fooled him into thinking she was sweet and wonderful and the perfect woman for him until she met his uncle. With a twist of his lips, he swallowed the drink and closed his eyes wearily. He was about to uncoil himself from the chair when the balcony's glass doors were pushed open, and Liam came walking out.

"I wondered where you had gone to."

"I needed some air. And you took all of my money." Flynn did not mind the man at all; he had discovered that Liam Moses possessed an uncanny knack for getting people to open up to him without much effort.

"It's for an excellent cause. Do you mind?" He nodded his dark head towards the opposite chair.

"Not at all." A smile crossed Flynn's lips. "Your politeness is quite refreshing and strange."

"I sometimes portray the manners and good breeding instilled in me by my parents." He flashed Flynn a grin as he lifted his glass. "I am surprised when it surfaces, myself." He gave his friend a curious look. "You looked very retrospective when I came out. Unpleasant thoughts?"

"Something like that."

"Ah." Taking out a gold case from the pocket of his sports jacket, he flipped the tiny switch to reveal thin cigars. Plucking two out, he offered one to Flynn before lighting one himself. "I would tell you she is not worth a minute of your time, but I think you already know that."

"Now and again, she pops into my mind like a nightmare I must wake up from." Flynn blew smoke upwards, inhaling the fragrance. "She wants to meet."

Liam gave him a narrow look. "You said no, of course."