"Gentlemen, welcome to Devonshire Estate," William said with a gesture of invitation, leading the three guests into the estate's reception room. "Apologies, I only took over this estate yesterday, so please excuse any lack of hospitality."
"No worries, William. That's not why we're here today," the Duke of Devon waved off the apology, dismissing his men, and William also waved his servants out of the room. He personally poured tea for the three guests.
The Duke of Devon accepted his cup. "Thank you," he said, taking a sip before continuing, "I apologize, William, for bringing Marco and Charles along without informing you beforehand."
"It's fine," William smiled as he held his teacup, though he felt a bit impatient inside. He loathed these kinds of familial reunions, but since they had come, he had to maintain his manners, no matter how much he disliked it.
"Alright," the Duke of Devon, noticing William's expression, smiled knowingly. "I'll get straight to the point. Marco's Kans Group has been involved in the automobile industry for years. Not only is it Europe's largest auto parts manufacturer, but they also own an F1 racing team. He's here today because he's interested in acquiring your Aston Martin company."
"Sorry, but I'm also very interested in the automobile industry, so I must decline," William interrupted the Duke. Selling his company? Not a chance.
There are only a handful of independent supercar manufacturers left in the world. Giving it up now meant he might never get the chance to enter the industry again.
"Aren't you even going to hear my offer?" Marco leaned on his cane with both hands. "William, the auto industry isn't as simple as you might think. Many problems can't be solved just with money."
"NO, NO. Except for emotional matters, any problem can be solved with enough money. If one billion isn't enough, then two billion. If two billion doesn't work, then ten billion. And if ten billion doesn't work, then twenty billion," William shrugged. "For me, twenty billion dollars is just about a month's income."
"FK," Charles, who had been quietly smiling the whole time, couldn't help but mutter under his breath. The Duke and Marco both turned to look at him but, interestingly, didn't scold him.
They, too, were at a loss for words after hearing William's statement. Given what was known about William's wealth, they had to admit that he could indeed use his immense fortune to break into any industry he desired.
"Alright, let's just pretend I didn't ask," Marco said with a regretful shake of his head. He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out an invitation. "This is my wedding invitation. I hope you can make it to Morocco for the ceremony."
"A wedding?" William glanced at Marco's white hair, then at the helpless expression on the Duke's face and Charles's look of shock. "This is... surprising."
"Haha, it's no big deal, William," Marco said as he stood up and handed the invitation to William, who hurriedly got to his feet to accept it. "Pursuing love is everyone's right. Even though I'm already 74, no one can stop me."
"Alright, William, I'll take my leave now. If you ever consider selling Aston Martin, I hope you'll think of me first. Goodbye, my boy."
After shaking hands with William, Marco merely nodded to the Duke and, leaning on his cane, walked out of the reception room.
After sending Marco off in a car, William returned to the reception room, where he overheard Charles speaking bitterly. "Why? Why would she marry him? God, Uncle Robert, why didn't you tell me earlier?"
"Would it have made any difference if I had told you sooner?" the Duke of Devon responded in a disappointed tone. "It's just a woman. I should be the one asking you—why are you dating a Japanese woman? Don't forget, my youngest brother, your uncle, died in Southeast Asia over 60 years ago."
William quickly lost interest in the family drama. He had no desire to get involved in their aristocratic squabbles. All he wanted now was to send the Duke and his nephew on their way as soon as possible. He knocked on the door, walked in, placed his phone on the coffee table, and sat down. Snapping his fingers, he said, "Sunday, display the information about the antique market manipulation involving the Italian Laferri Company and Riva Yachts."
"Understood, Sir."
Within moments, a 3D projection shot out from the phone, and Sunday began explaining the situation. Once Sunday finished, William ignored the Duke and Charles, who were staring intently at the holographic display. He turned to the Duke and said, "Your Grace, a price of two billion dollars for this intelligence seems fair, doesn't it?"
The Duke, still reluctant to look away from the phone as William put it away, closed his eyes and thought for a long moment before reopening them. "No problem. We promised you ten billion dollars' worth of antiques at a 30% discount. This two billion, along with the previous five billion, makes seven. We're even now."
Even if there was a problem, after seeing William's phone in action, the Duke knew he couldn't argue. He sighed and said, "I've always thought of you as a genius, but I didn't realize you were this much of one. Any chance I could join you in this venture?"
Join? That was something William would need to consider carefully. The Duke would have to offer something valuable in return. But thinking about the Duke's assets, besides land and antiques, there didn't seem to be much else of interest to William.
Antiques were abundant throughout Europe if you had the money. And as for land, William was on the verge of acquiring at least 30,000 acres near Devonshire Castle. Once he had that land, he wouldn't be interested in any other properties. He didn't need land to make money, and managing scattered estates would be a headache.
However, since the Duke had raised the topic, William decided to leave it open for negotiation. If the Duke could offer something truly valuable, William might just consider letting him join.
Smiling, William said, "I have what you want, Your Grace. But to taste the finest delicacies, you'll need to either pay for them or exchange something of equal value."
The Duke nodded in understanding. "Very well, William. I'll think carefully about it and get back to you. As for Charles," he glanced at his despondent nephew, "Charles has a double PhD in archaeology from Oxford. I was planning to introduce him to you to help with antique authentication, but now, I'm not so sure. Perhaps we'll wait until he's back on his feet."
"No, wait," William interrupted as soon as he heard that Charles held two PhDs in archaeology from Oxford. "Maybe giving Charles something to do would help him recover faster."
"Haha, you truly are..." The Duke shook his head, giving William a look of mock disapproval. "No wonder you're a capitalist, William. You really know how to make the most out of your labor."
"Alright, I'll take my leave," the Duke said, checking his watch. "If I leave now, I'll be just in time for lunch at home. I'll call you once I've made my decision. And one last thing," the Duke fixed his gaze on William, "whether you admit it or not, we're family. Take good care of Charles. Goodbye, my boy."
After personally seeing the Duke off on his helicopter and watching it take flight, William scoffed at the Duke's parting words. Adding flowers on a brocade can never compare to offering a lump of charcoal in snowy weather.
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[w w w . p @ t r e o n . c o m / M u t t e r]