Chapter Seven
“So you don’t know what to do about it?” Sylvester Montclair cut an imposing figure for a man of his age. Late sixties, with a head of neatly cropped gray hair and the beginnings of a bald spot at his crown, he exuded integrity.
“I don’t have that many options at the moment.” One kept springing to mind, but it was an option Adalia would never take.
She didn’t want handouts, and she certainly wouldn’t turn to the billionaire who saw her as a conquest, or whatever else he wanted to call it.
“My girl, you’ve got to do what’s best for your future.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do, Dad, but I don’t know how. I’m lost. The bank wants the money back, I’ve got no one working for me, and the customers just aren’t coming in.”
“What about your regulars?” Her father scratched his chi
