Yes, I’ve become singularly focused on this girl. I admit it. Regardless, we do still need the alliance. It’s obvious we’ve scared the Greeks with the engagement, so they’ve attempted to thwart it. Dropping information into our laps about Taryn’s investments. It’s a power play. She may have unwittingly given them the ammunition, but we are the ones who decide if they get to pull the trigger. We can’t let them be successful. We need the alliance and I need Taryn. Easy enough. All signsshouldpoint to a wedding chapel this summer.
Of course, my father won’t see it that way. His pride won’t allow it. He can’t stand thinking that someone in his family would be a sucker. Inviting the Greeks’ dupe to take our last name wouldn’t work. I have to give him another palatable story. One to replace the narrative he’s created in his head. I have about thirty minutes to come up with that new story before we reach my house. He already thinks I’m a fuckup. I have nothing to lose on that account.
I’ve about got it figured out when we reach campus. Timing really is everything, because I catch sight of Taryn’s ex-boyfriend strolling down the sidewalk with some oil tycoon’s kid. The shadows of my past violence loom across Sam’s face, which is a patchwork of swelling and discoloration. Poor son of a bitch must have decided he’d recovered enough to go outside again.
I swerve my Range Rover over the curb, ignore Darragh’s colorful exclamation, and slam on the brakes when my vehicle fishtails about a foot in front of Sam and his buddy. I am out of the vehicle before Sam has time to comprehend what is happening.
As soon as he sees it’s me, he begins shouting, arms out in front of him. “We’re on campus! Jesus! We’re on campus!”
I laugh. I can’t help it. What a pussy. The sound startles Sam so much, he turns and runs. He gets maybe forty feet before he slides on a patch of ice and falls onto his ass. Of course, this only makes me laugh harder. I stroll over to meet him.
“What the fuck, Liam?” Darragh calls to me. I look back to find him leaning against my SUV, arms crossed, bewildered expression on his face.
“I’ll just be a minute,” I holler back. “Sorry for the delay. Saw a friend I want to catch up with.”
Darragh’s dry laughter rings out through the cold air. “Friend. Got it.”
“So…”—I look down at Sam—“you stopped by to warn Taryn about something a few days ago. Shame you didn’t come to me instead.” I grin at him. “It’s not going to end well for you. Friend.”
“I—I didn’t do anything.” Sam isn’t even attempting to get up from his seated position on the ground. Jonathan Rivers, his rich friend, stands several feet away with his mouth open, eyes volleying between us. Funny, since I caused the canvas of blues, purples, and yellows that is now his face, Sam has much less bravado than when I met him on Taryn’s doorstep.
“Really? So, you didn’t move her money around?” I laugh again. “Ya know, most people think that because I’m so pretty, I’m also dumb. Are you making that mistake, Sam?”
He shivers. “No!”
“So you don’t think I’m pretty? Because—”
“Jesus Christ, Liam. What do you want from me?” His voice is a whine.
“How long were you funneling her money to Theo?”
“I—I wasn’t—”
I take a step forward.
“He found out a few days ago that I’d been helping her invest. I didn’t tell him. I swear it. He asked for account numbers. I gave them. I didn’t have a choice. I even stopped by to tell her, but then, you got all pissed.”
I nod at this. “Yeah. I remember that night differently. Friend.”
“Liam,” Darragh calls to me. “You want to wrap this up? Your father is getting anxious to see us.”
I wave at him.
“I didn’t have a choice,” Sam repeats. “I didn’t move anything. I just gave the account numbers. And, uh, passwords. That’s all.I didn’t have a choice.”
“There’s always a choice.” I shake my head in an exaggerated motion. “I’m sorry you made the wrong one. But, as you pointed out, we’re on campus. I won’t address it now.”
“No, wait. Listen—”
“Heal up quick, Sam, but don’t get too comfortable. We Irish are sentimental about unfinished business.” I wink at him before turning to jog back to Darragh.
“Do I want to know?” he asks me as he straightens against the car.
“Not even a little bit,” I joke before opening my door and climbing behind the wheel. Might as well get this meeting with my father over with. At least now I have a better idea of what happened and how to spin this.
When I walk into my living room, my father sits alone with a glass of his favorite aged Teeling single malt in hand. “Sit.”
I amble farther into the room. I can’t read his expression; however, he doesn’t leave me guessing when he turns to Darragh.
