“Thanks.” I take in a deep breath and continue. “At the beginning, we were able to prepare for how to hide the bad days, until he figured out what he wanted to do with the company. He didn’t want it to fall into the wrong hands, so we’ve managed. Prerecorded videos and fake golfing trips. On good days like the other day, he addressed the board from his office. I thought we had longer, but now it’s time to address the issue.”
“You think they’ll really want anything to do with actually working?” Claudia asks.
“They will try to take over, bleed it dry, and take great pride in watching it all fall apart. They won’t give a shit about it being Dad’s legacy, or the hundreds of people who depend on their jobs.”
“We’ll do everything we can to help,” Deacon assures me.
“There’s something else, far more important, something,” my voice breaks, “something really big and life changing in a way, that.” I hold my hand to my chest and turn and look at Paul. “You tell the story better than I ever could.”
Paul tells her about the day he brought me here from the Puck Pad, and what he shared about my mom, and his disdain for my father. How he and I figured out Matteo’s real name is Tomas —he is a founding member of the Legacy Group— and that my dad has used him for years, first when another young woman who had lived with him and his wife had run away. Again, when he realized his ex-wife was trying to sway the board to oust him after my mom died. And brought him back two years ago.
Then he handed the photos to her of her mother, the runaway, and her damn broke, mine broke, Paul’s broke, and we all … hugged and cried and then hugged and cried some more.
“Sofie, we could be?—”
I smile so big my freaking face hurts, “Yeah.”
“You’ve distanced yourself from your driver and Matteo, because?—”
“Matteo hid this from me.Andhe was a dick to Paul.Andhe should have found you.”
Hugo clears his throat, “During our meeting, Matteo aka Tomas explained all?—”
I cut him off, “I pay you, allow me to be pissed as long as I want. If for no other reason than he lied to me for freaking years and I could have found my freaking sister.”
Paul looks at Deacon, a total poking the bear look on his face, “It also means you’re going to be married to a Fairfax. Those boys in the locker room are going to give you so much shit about being a kept man.”
“I don’t want his money.” Claudia shakes her head and squeezes my hand.
“His Will reads that all living heirs get an even percentage of his shares in the company when he passes,” Hugo informs her.
Behind me, Aleks clears his throat, and I look back, “You think Dingy or Shaw knows this? Knows Savannah’s not only worth more than either of them ever will be as a human being, but also financially.”
“Again, I don’t want a thing, I never knew him and I,” she pauses and shuts her eyes. “I don’t want anything. I don’t want even to be mentioned.”
“You don’t have to be,” I say, understanding totally why she’d want to shelter herself and Savannah. Aleks again squeezes my shoulder like he just freaking knows when I need that little squeeze.
“I think everyone needs to let their brains rest for the night. Sleep on this before making any decisions.” Hugo stands. “We’ll figure out if anyone outside of these walls and the men outside know before worrying unnecessarily.”
“I’d like a DNA test to...” Claudia stops when she looks at my face, which must read, busted across it. “Is that where my toothbrush went?”
“To be fair, that was my idea, and your sister wouldn’t allow me to take a sample from Savannah,” Hugo says, opening the door. “I’ll be in touch.”
Icehouse feels louder tonight than usual, but I know it’s because none of us wants to be here. After dropping Paul and Savannah off at the hotel, we headed straight here, with zero time to process. But the world can’t stop. Post-win tradition and celebration still need to continue.
I feel like I’m watching it through glass.
Aleks stands at the bar, broad shoulders tense, Faulker there with his shot, and the bartender giving them both a pint. I can tell Faulker senses something. But he lets Aleks be… Aleks. Broody, looking like he’s carved out of control and restraint, like the past freaking two weeks haven’t been an emotional rollercoaster, one I half expect him to unbuckle, hop out, and run for the hills and never look back. I wouldn’t blame him.
Dash bangs a spoon against a glass. “To the guy who refused to go into overtime. Kilovac!”
The place erupts. Chanting his name. Grinning faces. Aleks closes his eyes for half a second as he heads back to the boys. When he speaks, the room quiets faster than it should.
“I scored,” he says flatly, “because I didn’t feel like skating another five minutes.”
Laughter explodes.
“And because I wanted to be done,” he adds. “With the game. With the noise. With you assholes.”
