“Had?” she asks. “Why didn’t you just go to the lawyers? Why didn’t you sue?”
I scrub a hand over my face. “There wasn’t time. That deal had to go through before your dad died. I didn’t have any paperwork to prove that it was supposed to go to you, all I knew was what your dad told me, and I believed him. I figured a company in L.A. probably had lawyers that would drain us while we tried to fight for it back. I just . . . I panicked. I was too busy trying to keep things afloat here while he was sick, all that baggage with Piper was still fresh, Clyde was dying. I just did the only thing I could think of.”
“But you never put it in my name.”
“Not at first.” I rock on my heels. “I needed to make sure everything was stable and the shop wasn’t at risk of going under before I put something like that on you. Besides, you were barely twenty-two, dealing with the death of your father, and spent most of your time in the attic. You had enough on your plate. I had thrown most of my trust into the place—it was aninvestment. I needed to make sure I wasn’t saddling you with a failing business and losing everything I owned in the process.”
She stares at me wide-eyed. “Oh my God.”
“The story became that he left it to me and I would eventually transfer ownership when you were ready and Black Rabbit was in a good place financially. I didn’t want you to know that your dad had been betrayed like that. I didn’t want you to know about any of this. You were drowning in grief; the stress of something like this would have wrecked you.”
She’s silent while her brain processes the information, and then she furrows her brow and shakes her head. “But wait, back up, what makes you think my stalker is Billy? You think he’s behind everything?”
I shrug. “I think he spent all that money and needs more. Maybe he’s still mad I bought it from him; he’d be making more off royalties if I’d let them milk Black Rabbit like a cash cow. I don’t think he’s mad at you, I think he wants to hit me where it hurts, and he knows that’s by going after you. I think that’s why he sent that letter to the shop and not to your house directly. That was a message forme, not you.”
“What did the letter say?”
I roll my eyes. “He made it seem like he was just saying ‘How ya doin’, Junior?’ Asking about what it was like being the boss, replacing your dad.”
“He saidreplace?” I nod.
“He thinks one of us replaced him?”
“That’s what I think is happening. Remember where he always wanted to retire?”
She slaps a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God. Out west.”
Exactly.
“But the photos?” she asks. “Would Billy seriously do that?”
“Blackmail,” I say.
“Why wouldn’t he have just asked for the money when he sent the photos?”
I shake my head. “He’s letting us know he’s got them. The more famous you become, the more they’re worth. You’re climbing the fame charts. Look at the way your Instagram has blown up over the last year.”
“Fuck.” She runs a hand over her hair, pulling more strands from the messy updo and tucking them behind her ears. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner, Logan?”
There’s not a great reason why, other than trying to spare her from a massive headache and trust issues—which, in an ironic turn of events, is exactly what I’ve done. “I wanted to protect you. I didn’t want you to think that I was trying to steal Black Rabbit or your inheritance.”
She pushes off the couch and stands with her hands on her hips. “That’s a stupid reason. That’s such a stupid fucking reason. If I’m the owner of Black Rabbit, then I deserve to know what happened to it . . .”
Fair point.I keep my mouth shut, because for now, she only gets Black Rabbit if something happens to me. I haven’t transferred it to her yet.
“So, what else don’t I know?” she asks, closing the distance between us with clenched fists.
Shit.
She searches my eyes, as if all my secrets are buried right behind them. She’s good at reading people when she knows there’s something they want to hide, and right now, I’m doing everything I can to hold her stare because if I look away for even a second, she’ll know.
Option one: Drop the big bomb right out of the gate and hope the blast radius takes me out before she does. After that, everything else will seem like mere bottle rockets in comparison.
Or option two: Feed her the small bullshit first, then slowly build up to the dramatic grand finale that explodes into a fiery chaos that can only be rivaled by her untamed fury and ability to throw things at me.
Do I want a quick merciful death? Or would it be fun to have a little edging first?
There is a third option. . . Presently, we’re headed down a path that leads to me revealing whether she owns the shop. If I can throw her off the trail with a red herring, then at least I can dodge the whole proxy marriage thing.
