His San Diego Sweetheart. Yahrah St. JohnЧитать онлайн книгу.
coursed through Vaughn’s mind as he took a quick shower, changed into a designer black suit with pinstriped tie and headed for his Ferrari California T in the parking lot. He smiled when he saw the expensive sports vehicle with its turbocharged engine and drop top. For such a new company, Elite had done quite well in the marketplace and afforded Vaughn the luxury of a fancy car, private jet and a beachside mansion in La Jolla. Before turning on the engine, he glanced back at the beach, wondering why a woman as beautiful as that stranger looked so forlorn. He shrugged. Wasn’t his problem. He had bigger fish to fry. He turned the ignition, the Ferrari roared to life and Vaughn sped away.
* * *
The San Diego Prescott George chapter was located inside a historic brewery near the East Village. Vaughn parked outside the renovated, environmentally friendly building and strode inside. He walked through the offices, glancing around at the exposed brick, loft ceilings and state-of-the-art canopy lighting that made up the Moguls club as he headed to the all-glass conference room. As in other Prescott George offices, pictures of their founding members, Prescott Owens and George Rollins, hung on the walls, reminding them of who started the organization. The meeting was already underway and multiple sets of eyes glowered at Vaughn as he made his way near the head of the table where Christopher Marland, the chapter’s president, sat next to two strangers who Vaughn could only assume were Daniel Cobb and Joshua DeLong.
Vaughn gave a halfhearted smile as he sat down. “Sorry. I was unavoidably detained.”
“By what? A wave?” Another member guffawed.
Several other members at the table chuckled softly at the joke, but they immediately stopped when Vaughn glared at them.
“You might want to wipe off the evidence,” Christopher concurred as he reached across the table and brushed sand off Vaughn’s shoulder.
Darn! He thought he’d caught it all. It wasn’t easy changing into a suit at a beach locker room. Perhaps he should endow the county with a new state-of-the art facility to ensure something like this didn’t happen again?
“Getting back to business,” Christopher said, returning his focus to the meeting. “We’re pleased that the chapter is being graced with such an honor.”
“So, it’s true?” Vaughn interrupted him. “We’re Chapter of the Year?”
“That’s right,” one of his Miami brethren replied. He was tall and fair-skinned with striking blue eyes. Vaughn didn’t know brothers could have eyes that color. “We feel that San Diego has shown not only the vision, but the gravitas necessary to propel Prescott George into the future.”
“Daniel Cobb.” The other gentleman reached across the table to shake Vaughn’s hand. “And that’s Joshua DeLong.” He inclined his head to the fair-skinned man beside him. “We know it couldn’t have been easy. There had to be opposition to change, probably as much as we’ve encountered in Miami.”
“You mean when you ousted a Rollins?” an older member asked from the far side of the table.
“No!” Daniel responded hotly. “Ashton realized it was in the best interest of Prescott George to have some new blood with fresh ideas at the helm. He’s still very much involved in the Miami chapter.”
“I doubt that,” the man muttered underneath his breath.
“If you have something to say,” Joshua DeLong responded, “by all means, speak up. We welcome feedback. Good or bad.”
Daniel grabbed Joshua’s arm and whispered something in his ear.
Vaughn couldn’t resist smiling. He liked Joshua DeLong. He was his kind of guy. Just look at his appearance. He wasn’t wearing the customary suit like the rest of the members of Prescott George, Daniel included. He wore trousers and a T-shirt with a blazer he’d probably haphazardly thrown on at the last minute to show he was making an effort. Vaughn understood wanting to dance to the beat of your own drum. It was what he’d been doing for years now that he was no longer an officer in the United States Navy.
The older member remained mum.
“Good then,” Daniel said. “Then, if it’s alright with you—” he turned to Christopher “—we’d like to announce your selection as Chapter of the Year at your annual benefit in a few months.”
“Sounds like a mighty fine idea,” Vaughn chimed in. “It would be great press for the organization and chapter. Don’tcha think?” He glanced around the table at the other members.
“My skills at handling the press are fully at your disposal,” Joshua DeLong said.
“Skills?” Another member laughed. “Infamy is more like it.” Several other members expressed their amusement.
Vaughn stepped in. “It’s those very same tweets, Instagram posts and Snapchats that have helped connect us with new members.”
“You mean the young whippersnappers who can’t be bothered to be here?” The older man glanced around the room.
“They aren’t on the board,” Christopher responded tightly and Vaughn noticed the firm line across his mouth. “That’s why they have mentors to groom them into becoming leaders. It doesn’t happen overnight.”
“I’d love to hear more about this mentorship program,” Daniel responded. “Do you both have time to discuss after the meeting?” He directed his question to Christopher and Vaughn.
“Absolutely,” they both said in unison.
The chapter meeting concluded soon after and Vaughn watched the other members shuffle out of the room. Once the room had cleared, Joshua spoke first. “Looks like you face the same resistance to change that we’ve encountered in Miami.”
“We do.” Christopher nodded.
“How do you combat it?” Daniel inquired.
Vaughn chuckled, but Christopher responded. “Clearly, we haven’t squashed it entirely. We’ve just had to push forward with our agenda.”
“Attracting younger members?” Joshua offered. “Talk to me about this mentorship program.”
“Let’s retire to the lounge for cigars.” Christopher gestured for the men to walk ahead of him.
The lounge housed several large chocolate leather sofas surrounded by modern and edgy furnishings. The men sat in a semicircle and discussed the future of Prescott George. Christopher offered their guests expensive cigars which another member had brought back from Cuba. Eventually, conversation returned to San Diego’s progress with millennials.
“We’ve had some great events like beachside barbecues, art gallery openings and wine tastings, specifically geared to a select group of young millionaires,” Christopher said. “We have a great artist in our midst, Jordan Jace. You may have heard of him?”
Joshua nodded. “I have his work. It’s cutting-edge.”
“Jace is like a lot of our younger members. They like being part of an organization in a limited capacity,” Christopher responded. “Of course, I know our small-time events are a far cry from the charity galas you have in Miami.”
“Hey, that’s how you have to roll in South Beach,” Joshua replied with a chuckle as he leaned back and puffed on a cigar. “Go big or go home.”
“Our chapter does plenty of good work. We just do it in a less traditional format,” Christopher intervened and Vaughn couldn’t help but notice how uptight the man always was. But that was Christopher; he certainly wasn’t Vaughn’s favorite person after he’d dumped his baby sister Eliza all those years ago. Vaughn didn’t think she’d ever truly recovered. He suspected it was why she’d moved to New York, to have a fresh start and get over Christopher. She was back now and keeping a low profile.
Hours later, after they’d shaken hands with their Miami brethren and given them their best advice, Christopher returned to his office to work on an architectural