Love Arranged (Lakefront Billionaires, #3)(7)

MANNY

For the record, my full name is Emanuel, so feel obliged to name your first kid after me.

I pocket my phone and ignore the way it vibrates from whatever ridiculous messages Manny is sending me right now about Lily.

During the charity softball game two weeks ago, he caught me checking out Lily, but he didn’t say anything until after he saw us having a little chat at Last Call after the game.

Should Manny decide to make a big deal about this, I’ll remind him and anyone else how I’m helping someone in need…even if that someone happens to be the woman I pushed away because falling in love with her isn’t an option.




I take a seat in front of the one-way mirror as Willow, my publicist, campaign manager, and unsolicited friend, sits beside me. We both watch as a campaign volunteer walks into a conference room full of townspeople. She asks the focus group to have a seat at the long table before she reviews today’s payment and the rules.

“Please feel free to be as honest as you’d like while answering the questions. Your paperwork will remain anonymous, and anything you say in this room will be kept private.”

The ten people fill out the paperwork full of questions. A woman I once politely turned down after she asked me out on a date looks up from her clipboard and clocks the one-way mirror, but thankfully she doesn’t say anything to the rest of the group.

Once an elderly man with a pocket protector and aviator reading glasses finishes his set of questions, the volunteer asks the first one.

“In your opinion, what are the three biggest problems facing Lake Wisteria today?”

A few people share similar responses: property taxes increasing, the growing class divide, a similar concern I have about a billionaire real estate developer named Julian Lopez turning older homes into summer houses for the new and more affluent residents.

I’m not surprised by everyone’s answers to the next set of questions, although I’m bothered by how they respond to the volunteer asking, “If you had to pick between Lorenzo Vittori and Trevor Ludlow, who do you think would do a better job protecting the town’s interests?”

It’s nearly a clean sweep in Trevor’s favor despite his family playing a significant role in all their concerns, and it makes me question what I’m doing wrong because I’m campaigning in their best interests.

Trevor Ludlow—like his father, who is retiring this election season—comes from a long line of town mayors, so his nepotistic connections run deep. Their family is a pillar in the community, while I’m still viewed as an outsider despite my Lake Wisteria birth certificate.

Maybe if people knew more about the man vying to replace his father, they’d reconsider, but that’s one of my biggest problems with this campaign. No one knows the truth about Trevor and what he cost my family, so they have no problem voting for him.

“Does anyone want to expand on their answer?” the volunteer asks.

The elderly man with five different pens inside his front pocket readjusts his glasses. “Trevor Ludlow is the best choice—even if he’s new to the job. His family has run the city council since it was founded, so I trust him to uphold our values and traditions.”

A woman with pink stripes in her hair nods. “And he’s one of us.”

People easily forget or ignore how I spent the first decade of my life growing up in this town until I became an orphan.

Another man in his early forties talks next. “Yeah, I agree. There’s something about Lorenzo that I don’t trust.”

Next to me, Willow scribbles on her notepad, jotting everyone’s points down as if we haven’t heard them countless times before.

“What do you mean?” someone calls from the corner of the table.

“Doesn’t anyone find it strange how he came out of nowhere two years ago and decided to run for mayor? It’s not as if he has deep ties to the town, and he isn’t like Trevor, who has a legacy he wants to protect, so what’s his deal?”

Revenge. Simple as that.

I look forward to dismantling life as the Ludlows know it, and it all starts with removing them from their century-long position of power. For a family who values their pride, reputation, and social status, losing the election will be a huge blow they probably won’t recover from.

“And what about a family? I heard Lorenzo hates kids, so it’s not like he plans on settling down here,” the woman with pink hair adds.

“He’d have to be open to dating to want that,” the woman I rejected says while looking at the mirror.

Safe to assume I’ll never get her vote.

“Maybe it’s for the best. We don’t need him bringing his family’s mafia business here,” the forty-year-old man with a blue ball cap on says.

Another person chimes in with “Oh, I heard about that. Do you think that’s why he sold his shares of the family company?”

“He did?” someone else asks.

“Yeah. A random article I read online mentioned how he and his uncle would get in arguments during board meetings. Nearly came to blows once.”

Yes, while that is accurate, I would’ve put up with my uncle if it weren’t for how he hid the truth about my parents’ accident. After I found out what really happened, I quit my job as the director of operations, sold my Vittori Holdings shares, and walked away without looking back.