“Good.” Rhys grabbed Beckett’s wrist and pulled him close, pressing a quick kiss against his lips. “I need to speak with my accountant and my attorney about something, but I’ll be back as soon as I’m wrapped up with him.”
“Everything okay?” Beckett frowned, and Rhys kissed him again.
“It will be.”
Rhys headed into the office. He locked the door behind him and pulled his cellphone off the charger. The call with Jeremiah had left him feeling like he didn’t have many options because of an obscene clause in the paperwork his father had him sign upon taking over some responsibilities at the University a decade ago. He should have known better back then, but he’d been younger and not as savvy as he was now. And he’d been distracted, but that was another problem entirely. A misstep he’d never make again.
Love was horrible and also everything all at the same time.
It always had been.
“Call Howard,” he said loud enough for his virtual assistant to hear, but not for Beckett.
“Calling Howard,” it responded.
The phone rang twice before his father’s attorney answered the phone. “Mr. St. George, what a delight.”
“It rarely is with you.”
“Did you have another marriage to annul? Maybe a bastard heir to make disappear?”
Rhys scowled at the leather desk pad, drumming his fingers over the corner seam. “You’ll never have to worry about either of those when it comes to me, and no. I need you to send me a copy of the employment agreement I signed when I started working for the University.”
“Whatever for?”
“Because I told you I wanted it, Howard. Before the end of the day.” Rhys disconnected the call and shoved the chair away from his desk.
“Fuck.”
He knew he was already on borrowed time. His father had wanted him home two days before, and it hadn’t gone unnoticed that Monday had passed without any fanfare or implications. That was very unlike his father, and a sense of dread settled in Rhys’s chest, just waiting for the shoe to drop.
He texted his brother.
Me: I need an attorney who isn’t Howard.
Instead of answering the text like a normal person would have, Sebastian called him.
“Are you an attorney?” Rhys answered the phone with sarcasm.
“Not last I checked. But why do you need an attorney?”
He exhaled loudly and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Before I forget, pencil me in for dinner with you and that boyfriend of yours Saturday night.”
“The three of us?”
“Four.”
“Rhys, don’t change the subject,” Sebastian said. “What do you need an attorney for?”
“I’m trying to put some things into play, if you must know. And there’s some money I’ve set aside that I’m suddenly finding it hard to access without tipping off our father,” he explained.
“What do you mean tip him off?”
“Good lord, brother.”
“Does he still monitor your spending, Rhys?” Sebastian asked.
Not quite. But their father still had more control and oversight of Rhys than was fair or logical…and more than was tolerable.
