Page 15 of Faking it with my Bad Boy Crush

"Like I never left. Like I'm still that angry kid who doesn't know who he wants to be." I sat on the edge of the bed, running my free hand through my hair. "I'm working on a deal here. An investment firm wants to buy up properties, push out local businesses. I'm supposed to help make it happen."

Another pause. "That doesn't sound like you."

"Dad would've done it without blinking."

"You're not your father." Her voice was firm now, the tone that had gotten us through the hardest years. "You've spent your whole adult life proving you're not him. Don't let one bad deal change that."

I closed my eyes. "The bakery they want? It's Manuel Romano's. His granddaughter runs it now. Remember her?”

“You didn’t talk much about her. I must have seen her at the bakery, though. Very shy, wasn’t she?”

“Not anymore. She’s…very outspoken. She’s mad about what I’m doing, and I get it. I'm working for the people trying to take her family business from her. We've been creating the legal problems that make her vulnerable. It's not just business, Mom. It's predation."

She was quiet for a long moment. "Then quit."

"It's not that simple—"

"It is exactly that simple." Her voice was gentle but unyielding. "Walk away. You've built your career, Ethan. You've provenyourself. You don't need this deal. But you do need to be able to look at yourself in the mirror."

"They'll blacklist me. My career—"

"Your career is important. But it's not more important than your integrity." She paused. "When your father left, I worked three jobs because I had to. Because keeping you fed and housed was my job as your mother. But you know what? I would have rather lived in a cardboard box than have you become the kind of man who values money over people."

My eyes burned. "I just wanted to make things easier for you. To give you the retirement you deserved after everything you sacrificed."

"Baby, you already did that. You've given me more than enough. Paul and I are comfortable. We're happy. What I don't need is for you to sacrifice your soul to send me money that I can live without." Her voice softened. "You've spent twenty years trying to make up for being an angry teenager. But honey, there's nothing to make up for. You were a kid whose father abandoned him. You made mistakes. You fixed them. You became a good man despite everything.”

“Did I? I think Maya would disagree.”

“You’re calling me at 2:30 in the morning feeling guilty about it. Your father never felt guilty about anything. He never questioned whether what he was doing was right. He never tried to be better." She paused. "You're questioning. That means you still have a conscience. Use it."

After we hung up, I sat in the dark hotel room, her words echoing in my mind.

Use your conscience.

When had I stopped doing that? When had success become more important than integrity?

I thought about the last five years since founding my firm. The deals I'd closed, the acquisitions I'd facilitated, the profits I'd generated for clients. All legal. All technically ethical.

But how many of those deals had been like this one? How many had involved creating vulnerabilities and then exploiting them? How many families had lost businesses or property because Ethan Caldwell was very good at finding legal ways to take what his clients wanted?

I'd spent twenty years building a reputation as someone who closed deals, who got results, who never let emotion cloud my judgment.

And in the process, I'd become exactly what Maya Romano thought I was: a corporate shark.

My phone buzzed. An email from my boss, Marcus Campbell, despite the late hour:"Ethan - just reviewed the Lopez Island file. Good potential there. That bakery property is prime real estate. Push for acquisition ASAP. The owner's vulnerable right now with the permit issues. Strike while the iron's hot."

I stared at the message, my jaw clenching.

Strike while the iron's hot.Translation: exploit Maya's vulnerability while she's at her weakest.

Another email arrived, this one directly from Marcus:"Also, Sterling called. Says you had a 'difficult community meeting.' Hope you're not getting sentimental about this place. It's just business. Close the file and come home."

Just business.

My father's favorite phrase. Every betrayal, every broken promise, every time he chose his own interests over his family's needs—it was alljust business.

My phone rang. Marcus, calling directly this time.