The Tyrant (Banker #3)(16)

This woman could make me do anything.

And I hated that.





We spent the entire day shopping. We got everything Martina could possibly need, from toys to bottles and all the other products I had no idea were required to take care of a baby. Siena had fun picking out all the clothes Martina would get to wear, and even though she was on her feet all day, she didn’t complain once.

I’d never spent more than five minutes shopping. My personal stylist picked out my wardrobe then had my tailor customize it to my measurements. Then one of my men picked up the clothes and placed them in my closet.

I didn’t even go grocery shopping.

After the long day, we headed home, taking the entire store with us.

“Should this be her bedroom?” Siena stepped into the guest bedroom next door to mine. My office was on the other side. “It’s right next door.”

“I don’t think our daughter is going to want to be right next door to us.”

“Not forever. Just for now. That way when she cries in the middle of the night, I don’t have to go far. I think the smart thing is keeping her close.” She stepped into the room and looked at the furniture that was already inside. “I guess we could donate all of this. Everything looks to be of exceptional quality. Unless you have somewhere else to put it?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Then we’ll donate it to someone. I want to paint the walls and set up the crib next to the window. Do you think your men could get rid of everything tomorrow?”

“They could get rid of it now if that’s what you wanted.”

“God, no. It’s seven at night.”

“This shift is on until midnight regardless.”

“So you have men working constantly?”

I nodded. “They work twelve-hour shifts.”

“Do you pay them well?”

“Of course. You can’t expect men to put their lives on the line unless they’re giving their families the best quality of life possible. That’s all they care about, making sure their wives don’t have to work and their kids get the best education. Any honorable man would do anything to give his family a better life.” That was all I ever wanted for my mother when my father ducked out. I wanted to erase what he did and prove what being a man really meant. “So they’ll do anything I ask.”

“Well, it can still wait until morning. Then we’ll set up the crib and add a new coat of paint.”

“I’ll bring someone in to do all of that.”

“Why? We can do it ourselves.”

“Because rich people never do anything themselves.”

She rolled her eyes. “I want to be part of the process every step of the way. I want to put my love into the paint, build that crib with my bare hands. I thought you would feel the same way…”

I hated it when she guilted me. “I have work to do, Siena. You seem to forget that a lot.”

“And you seem to forget that you already have billions. You don’t even need to work anymore.”

“It’s not just about the money.”

“Whatever,” she said. “I’ll do it myself.” She walked into our bedroom and started to undress.

I followed behind her. “Could you at least wait until I get home from work tomorrow? The guys will move the furniture during the day, and then we can take care of this when I get home.”

Since I’d offered a compromise, she seemed more receptive. “Okay, that sounds fair.”





“I got the deal—with no help from you.” Bates sat in the leather armchair and lit a cigar.

“You texted me, and I texted you back.”

“And you think that’s work? Did you have fun picking out diapers and shit?” He tossed a cigar at me.

I caught it and set it on the desk. “I didn’t mind it.” I didn’t care about picking out all the essentials, but knowing everything was for my daughter made it a lot more interesting. I selected a few toys for her, along with one or two outfits. It hit me more with every passing day that I was going to be a father—in a month.

He glanced at my cigar then tossed a lighter at me.

I caught it and put it on the desk next to the cigar.

Bates took in the smoke then blew rings toward the ceiling. “What’s your problem?”

“Just not smoking.”

“Because…?”

I shrugged. “Don’t want to.”

“All we ever do is smoke and drink.”

“Maybe we should branch out more.”

His eyes narrowed. “What’s going on, Cato? We’ve never had these little conversations without a cigar in our hand. What gives?”

Since I would never smoke again, I might as well tell him the truth. “I quit.”

He laughed like it was absurd. “Quit? You? Why?”

“Smoking kills,” I said simply.

It didn’t take long for my brother to figure out the real reason on his own. “Siena forced you?”

“She didn’t force me. She asked me.”

“My god, you’re pussy-whipped so fucking hard.”

I didn’t deny it because it was true. “She made valid points. And she wasn’t going to let it go unless I caved.”