Miami After Hours. Yahrah St. John

Chapter 12

       Chapter 13

       Chapter 14

       Chapter 15

       Chapter 16

       Chapter 17

       Chapter 18

       Chapter 19

       Chapter 20

       Epilogue

       Extract

       Copyright

       Chapter 1

      Daniel Cobb strode through the glass doors of Cobb Luxury Real Estate, confident and poised in a custom Tom James suit and Ferragamo loafers. He’d started the company with the commissions he’d made while working with his father. Now he was the proud owner of his own thriving and highly sought-after real estate company.

      Daniel only accepted wealthy clients looking for the most high-priced condominiums and homes in Miami. Anyone walking through the double glass doors of his agency knew what to expect. A skilled agent with expertise in the marketplace. As head broker, he’d hired only six other agents because he wanted to ensure that his clients received the most discriminating customer service.

      Determined to make Cobb Luxury Real Estate the premier firm in Miami for luxury homes, he was at the office early in the morning and late into the night, reviewing numbers and overseeing staff. Along with his commitment to Prescott George, a men’s club he belonged to, that left very little time for play...or for women. Not that he was celibate. He had the odd date or two, which usually ended up with a beautiful female in his bed and a smile on his face. But he had no time for serious relationships.

      He’d made sure of that after he’d foolishly fallen for Mia Landers back in college. She’d been petite and adorable, with dark doe eyes and a shy demeanor. Daniel had been instinctively protective of her, but Mia had been head over heels for Ashton Rollins, a fellow student of Daniel’s who paid her no attention. Daniel had thought if he bided his time, Mia would see the light. She hadn’t and had died in a tragic car accident later that year, leaving Daniel alone with his anger and regrets. And his guilt. If he’d managed to keep Mia away from Ashton, would she still be alive? Daniel would always wonder if he could have done more.

      After that tragedy, he’d focused all his energy into building an empire. He wanted to own homes around the globe, and that required lots of money, especially if he wanted to travel.

      Thanks to the phenomenal last few years, he’d added a penthouse in Key Biscayne to his portfolio. The building housed only three other units and was surrounded by nothing but glass. It was sleek, modern and sophisticated. Just like him.

      “Good morning, Myrna,” he greeted the receptionist as he passed by.

      “Good morning, Mr. Cobb.” Myrna smiled back at him as he made his way to his all-glass office facing downtown Miami.

      Myrna was easy on the eyes, which was exactly what Daniel wanted to portray to prospective clients. However, he wasn’t fooled by the cool blue eyes, slick blond hair and slender figure. At twenty-five years old, Myrna was not only smart and capable, she was hungry for more. He could easily see her obtaining her Florida real estate license and becoming one of his agents. He recognized the drive; he had it himself.

      Closing his office door behind him, Daniel walked over to the window and looked out over the bay. He’d always been driven to succeed, but it hadn’t been easy. Even though it appeared as if he came from rich parents, he’d been raised in a middle-class family. And once his parents had divorced, because of his father’s philandering ways, he’d been shuffled between two middle-income households.

      Daniel grew up learning the business from his father, Kenneth Cobb, who had a small real estate company in Fort Lauderdale. He’d been required to man the phones during school breaks. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have gotten a chance to spend any time with his father, who, when he wasn’t working, was more concerned with the ladies than his only son.

      Once he’d graduated from Nilson University with a degree in finance, he’d decided to open his own firm, except he would cater to a select niche of young, hip and most of all wealthy buyers and sellers. Cobb Luxury Real Estate was a frequent poster on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter. And thanks to meeting the illustrious Rollins family, a connection he’d made in college, the doors to the rich and famous had been opened to him. Too bad that connection had cost him the only woman he’d ever loved.

      “Mr. Cobb,” his assistant, Mary’s voice echoed from his phone’s intercom. “The Archers are here to meet with you.”

      “Tell them I’ll be with them in a moment.” Daniel stood up, straightening his tie and smoothing his designer suit even though nary a wrinkle could be found on it.

      The Archers were new clients who had been referred to him by the Grants, a couple to whom he’d recently sold an amazing five-thousand-square-foot condo. He was grateful for the referral because the Archers’ price range was six to nine million dollars, which would mean a substantial commission for him.

      Daniel swung open the doors and got started doing what he did best. Conquering the market.

      * * *

      Real estate agent Angela Trainor rolled her eyes as she watched her potential buyers, the Harrisons, nitpick the modern kitchen of an exclusive penthouse in Bal Harbour. Did they even know what a find this was? Homes like this rarely came on the market, and the fact that she’d found this for them should have been a feather in her cap. Instead they were finding anything that they could wrong with the luxurious condo.

      “Do you see the handles on these kitchen cabinets?” Mrs. Harrison turned to her, and Angela immediately resumed her sales persona. “They’re ghastly.”

      “Hardware is easily changeable to suit whatever design concept you desire,” Angela responded.

      Mrs. Harrison shook her long straight black hair that hung down her back and fiddled with the diamond-studded bracelet on her thin wrist. The bracelet had to cost more than Angela made in a year! And that wasn’t the only expensive bauble she wore. The woman was draped in jewels, no doubt by her wealthy husband who appeared to be about thirty years her senior.

      “I don’t know about this, darling,” Mrs. Harrison said, turning to her husband. “You know I want something move-in ready.”

      “Move-in ready?” Mr. Harrison chuckled. “Julia, you know as soon as we purchase, you’ll be gung ho to have the entire space redesigned. I’m with Angela on this one. Surely the hardware is a little nuisance we can easily overcome?”

      Angela moved in for the kill. “As you know, this neighborhood is considered the crème de la crème by Miami magazine.” She knew Mrs. Harrison was one of those women who cared about social standing among her peers. “And with