One Spoonful of Trouble (Felicity Bell Book 1) by Nic Saint Page A

that if Bomer wanted even a sliver of the vast fortune his father had amassed, he would have to work his fingers to the bone, just like he himself had done. Which is why Bomer had been slaving away in this tiny office for four days in a row now.
    He stretched his weary bones and stared out the window for a moment at the skyscrapers of Manhattan. He thought of his lovely fiancée, and how he’d had to brush her off several times. Charlene was very fortunate to have a father like Chazz Falcone, who didn’t care if his daughter worked or not. Unlike Chazz, Bomer’s old man had told him in no uncertain terms that if he didn’t see this project through, he could kiss his easy life goodbye, and would have to find employ elsewhere.
    The thought gave him the willies.
    And then there was Charlene to consider. He was pretty sure that if she discovered she was marrying a pauper, she’d dump his ass in two seconds flat.
    Though he loved her dearly, he didn’t doubt that a large part of his appeal lay in the vast fortune associated with the Calypso name. He wasn’t as handsome as some, nor was he charming or debonair, and the glow that surrounded him was purely the aura of money, not beauty or wit.
    The predicament was weighing on his soul, and for the umpteenth time he cursed his father’s ideas about work. No work, no money. It seemed simply silly.
    Staring before him, battling sleep, he made a decision. Picking up his phone, he went to the first item on his speed dial list, and was gratified to hear Rick Dawson’s voice, even though he sounded grouchy.
    “Wakey, wakey,” he chuckled.
    “Bomer,” the voice croaked. “What time is it?” After a pause, the voice continued, peeved. “Christ, don’t you have anything better to do than call people in the middle of the night?”
    “It’s nine o’clock, buddy. Rise and shine.”
    “Why are you up so bright and early?”
    “Why am I still up so bright and early would be the right question.”
    “That infernal project again?”
    “Exactly right, old friend.”
    “I really think your father is taking the concept of mental torture to a whole new level. Why don’t you just tell him to go to hell?”
    “You know I can’t do that,” Bomer said wearily, rubbing his sagging features with the palm of his hand. “He’ll cut me out of his will and kick me out of the company.”
    “Maybe you should go for it. With your master’s degree you can get any job you like. And trust me, nothing can be worse than working for Grover Calypso.”
    “That may be so, but I highly doubt if Charlene feels the same way. You know how much she loves money.” He didn’t mention he loved the stuff even more.
    “What you see in that girl surprises me, Bomer.”
    “She’s not her father.”
    “I’ll take your word for it.”
    They’d had this conversation so many times Bomer didn’t even bother to respond. “Look buddy, I need your help.”
    “Sure, whatever you need.”
    “This project is killing me. I need to get away for a couple of days. Somewhere quiet and undisturbed. Charlene has been ringing my phone off the hook and Dad keeps barging in, demanding to see results. I really can’t work like this. I just feel that if I can be alone for a bit, I can really nail this thing.”
    “What do you suggest?”
    “Let me hole up in your place. Everybody knows you’re in Happy Bays, so no one will bother me there.”
    “I guess,” his friend said hesitantly. “It’s just that…”
    “It’s just what?”
    “Well, you know I’m working on this article on your future father-in-law, right?”
    “Right.”
    “The thing is, he’s been sabotaging me every step of the way. He’s even sent two of his goons down here to keep an eye on me.”
    “So? If they’re over there, they won’t bother me over here, right?”
    “Right,” his friend said dubiously. “Just…don’t open the door for anyone, you hear? Just in case Falcone sends his men to my apartment.”
    “I won’t.