For a couple minutes after that, Alex nursed his drink the way a man nursed a wound, slow and pretending it didn’t sting. The bar around us was half-empty, the music low and the lights dimmed. It smelled like fried onions and beer-soaked wood, not exactly a confessional, but maybe that was why it worked.
“Alright,” he said eventually, setting his beer down and turning to me. “Tell me what really happened with Gregory. Why are you so sure he won’t be back?”
“Which part do you want to know?”
“The part where you made him disappear after having him all alone in the sanctuary of my elevator.”
“Ah. That part. I was wondering how long it was going to take you to ask.”
Alex gave me a look, as stern and judgmental as only a Westwood could be, and clearly, he was extremely done with my shit, so I relented. He wasn’t kicking my ass about my very real relationship with his sister and she needed a little slice of peace.
Hell, all of us did. If I could help smooth things over with her family by telling him this, then I’d do it.
“Fine,” I said, lifting my hands in surrender. “I asked him just what the hell he thought he was doing when he put his hands on my wife.”
Alex’s jaw ticked and he stared at me like he was waiting for the building to catch fire, but he didn’t interrupt.
“He said something about how he just wanted to see her rings, but I didn’t care what the excuse was. He touched her and I don’t tolerate people putting hands on what’s mine.”
Alex’s eyebrows rose, but he still didn’t say anything. “After that, I told him exactly what was going to happen next.”
“Yeah, and what’s that?”
“I let him know that he was going to be getting on a plane back to England, and that once he arrived, he was going to stay there. Permanently.”
“You bought his ticket?”
“A chartered flight,” I said. “I wanted him gone before Charlotte even finished her coffee.”
Alex blinked slowly. “Jesus. He didn’t argue?”
“Nope.” I smirked. “Actually, he almost cried.”
“Cried?”
“Big, wet, trembling eyes, practically begging me not to… well.”
Alex leaned in, suddenly far too interested. “Not to what?”
I grinned. “I really did tell him about the pigs. In explicit detail. You would’ve been proud about how descriptive I got.”
Alex groaned into his hands. “Trent.”
“What?” I said innocently. “It’s not my fault he didn’t know what pigs do. I told him to Google it if he didn’t believe me.”
“You didn’t.”
“I absolutely did, then I stayed and watched him do it.”
Alex sat back and rubbed his jaw, but he was smiling. “You’re insane.”
“You’re welcome,” I replied. “I may also have pointed out that we had many more pigs than the guy in the video he stumbled upon and that our ranch is so big, no one else even knows we keep those animals. I might have also made it clear that the authorities are highly unlikely to ever even find the pens, let alone anything else.”
Alex closed his eyes as if offering a prayer to any nearby deity willing to claim him, then let out a long breath.
“I’m grateful to you,” he said quietly. “Truly. For stepping in the way you did.”
I nodded. “Of course.”
