“Oh God.” She winces.
“Your father couldn’t figure out how Ripley was able to get his hands on that kind of private information,” I say. “Panicked, he came to me. When he explained his situation, I filled him in on Ripley’s sexual deviances. I told him he was right to trust his instincts. He wanted to save you from a grim future with a bad man.” I grab her hands into mine. “He wanted you to marry someone who wouldn’t corrupt you, soil your soul, or take advantage of you. I gave him my word I’d do right by you.”
Her eyes well and a tear rolls down her cheek.
I wipe it away with my thumb.
I cup her face with my hands, leaning close enough to kiss the tip of her nose.
“You and me against the world, hellion.”
She looks up at me and smiles between her tears.
For a long beat, no one speaks.
Dad clears his throat. “Going back to Potter.” He breaks the silence. “Most of the information surrounding the deal was never divulged to the board. The four of us made a quick decision on the Villiers Grand, informed Roman, and then presented the deal to them as afait accompli.” They weren’t pleased and they had objections. A lot of them. It wasn’t a done deal for them. We expected as much. They shut the fuck up when we presented them with our aggressive one-year expansion plan. “Not only was the purchase of your hotel hush-hush, it was done at lightning speed. So, it bears the question, how did Potter know so much?”
“I knew there was a reason I didn’t trust that guy,” Michaela says.
“You’re spot on,” Slate says. “He’s been on the board for a long time, but lately, you have to wonder if he’s still on our team.”
“It seems his new purpose in life is to hamper our efforts every chance he has,” Wilder says.
“It’s like he wants our demise.” My jaw clenches. “Mine, specifically.”
Michaela tilts her head to the side. “Can’t you get rid of him?”
“It’s not that simple,” Slate says.
“That’s too bad,” Michaela says. “If he’s on the board, he should be a friend, not a foe.”
I crack a wry smile. “You’d think.”
Wilder frowns. “If no one at this table revealed anything to Potter—and I’m certain Roman would never betray us—does it mean we have a leak within the company?”
“That’s the billion-dollar question, son,” Dad says.
“What did my father tell Potter?”
“He didn’t say much because he was afraid to jeopardize our deal,” Dad says. “He played it smart. I told Niels if Potter everasks any other questions about your hotel, to refer him back to me personally. I’ll deal with him.”
Wilder shakes his head. “Did you drill the asshole last night when you went to your office to open that bottle of whiskey?”
My brothers cut their time with Potter short, choosing to return to the party instead of being trapped in Dad’s office with a man they loathe. I don’t blame them.
“I didn’t,” Dad says.
“Why not?”
My father turns to Slate and cocks a warning eyebrow.
“Don’t you want to know how the hell Potter got his hands on that information?” Undeterred, Slate soldiers on.
“Son, you seem to forget who the hell you’re talking to.” Dad points a finger at him. “Watch your tone.”
Slate shrinks in size.
“Like the game of chess, in business, it’s about outplaying your opponent,” Dad says. “It’s the same in the game of poker. For now, I’m keeping my cards close to my chest.”
