“Talking.”
“About?”
Beckett sighed. “I thought your brother would have told you.”
“He hasn’t,” Rhys said sharply, the nonsense leaving his tone immediately.
“Nothing bad,” he promised. “I don’t want to spend this call with you being cranky. Tell me how you are. Tell me how things are going.”
“That’s why I’m calling,” Rhys told him. “Brent found a loophole in the contract. Well, it’s hardly a loophole, but we can manipulate it into one.”
“If anyone can, it’s you.”
“I should be offended, but in this instance, I’m not.” The smile returned to Rhys’s voice, and Beckett smiled too.
“So, you can get your money?” he asked.
“We’ll know for sure tomorrow, but it looks like it.”
“Good.” Beckett leaned against the wall and took the first deep breath he’d had in a week. “Fix it and come home.”
“I will. I promise,” Rhys whispered under his breath. “I have to go.”
“I love you.”
The call disconnected before Rhys could reply, but he’d said it enough to hold Beckett over until his return. He waited until his heart rate settled before going back into the apartment. All eyes landed on him as soon as the door closed.
“That was Rhys,” he said, holding up his phone. “He thinks he’s solved it.”
“Good.” Callahan leveled an uncertain look at him. “He can handle the money; I can sort out the dismantling of the St. George family trust.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN
RHYS MAKES HIS MOVE
Rhys drummed his fingers against the edge of his desk. Brent had found a loophole, but Beckett was not going to like it. He’d meant to tell Beckett about it when they talked, but whenever he got his lover on the phone, his common sense went out the window. Rhys found himself more concerned with feelings and worries and emotions instead of legalities and laws, so more often than not, his calls with Beckett did little more than to soothe the ache in his chest.
Which was better than nothing.
He’d tried to get a hold of his brother to no avail, which meant he had no idea what sort of scheming Sebastian was up to, and he had no clue why he’d brought Callahan around Beckett. It wasn’t that Rhys had misled Beckett about his relationship with Callahan, but maybe he’d downplayed it. He knew he didn’t want to hear about anyone Beckett had loved before, at least not in detail, so he’d returned the same courtesy. But as it stood, Rhys’s former feelings for his brother’s best friend had colored more of his life than he’d previously acknowledged.
At the end of the day, Callahan deserved more than Rhys had ever given him. And as soon as Rhys got home and got reminded of what Beckett’s cock felt like inside of him, he would go make his apologies. Rhys was about to start a new chapter in his life and he wanted to do it right.
So, he’d asked Brent to call Beckett and was waiting to hear back. If all went well, he could give his father the finger before dinner and be home by midnight and get started on just that.
The phone on his desk rang, and he answered it, “This is Rhys.”
“He didn’t like the idea,” Brent greeted.
On reflex, Rhys’s eyes darted toward the shared office door that separated him and his father.
“I knew he wouldn’t, but did he go along with it?” he asked.
“Reluctantly.” Brent laughed. “He made me draw up a contract with a list of stipulations a mile long before he would approve the transfer, though.”
“Of course he did.” Rhys closed his eyes and rubbed a circle against his temple with two fingers. “Any loopholes?”
“He was adamant.”
