“Fuck. Me,” Nicholas says.
“Was she high? Drunk?” Noah asks.
“It’d have to be both,” Griffin croaks. He can’t imagine any scenario under which anybody could like Dad.
I shake my head. “No.”
Huxley gives me a look full of pity. It’s a little creepy, because compassion really isn’t his forte. “Insanity might be valid grounds for divorce.”
I wish. “Can’t. We need to stay married for at least five years, unless she decides to dump me earlier.”
“If you belch and fart around her all the time, she’ll probably divorce you before the month is over,” Noah says.
I scrunch my face. “That’s disgusting.”
“It works. Trust me.”
Everyone’s head swivels toward Noah, who spreads his hands.
“What? You can’t argue with the result. I’m just trying to help,” he says.
“Don’t. Nothing’s going to help. Anyway, all of you are invited to the post-elopement reception at Luce’s house next Saturday. Bring your wives and girlfriends.”
“Is Dad coming?” Grant asks warily. He’ll never let Dad get close to Aspen again after our father offered to make her a soft-core porn star.
“Absolutely not. I’ve used up my Ted Lasker tolerance quotient for the year.”
Emmett relaxes slightly. Dad’s been harassing him and Amy about wanting to see his “grandkid.” I don’t think he knows if it’s a girl or a boy. Not because Emmett kept that a secret, but because it’s just too much bother for Dad to remember.
“Also, I need your help,” I say.
My brothers turn to me, instantly serious.
“I need you to start buying up shares in Peery Diamonds,” I say. “I’ll fund it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Huxley glares at me, insulted to the core of his soul. “We don’t need your money.”
The rest of my brothers give me a what-he-said look.
“What is this for?” Grant asks.
“To even the scales. Luce thinks she got what she wants from this marriage by forcing my hand. I’m going to prove her wrong.”
Emmett cocks his eyebrow. “And that would be…?”
“I’m going to strip her of her title as CEO of Peery Diamonds.”
Chapter 16
Sebastian
I keep quiet as I pad along the hall Saturday morning to avoid disturbing Luce in case she wants to sleep in. I need to grab some coffee before my tennis match with Grant at Tilden Courts, where I play from time to time when I need to decompress. I always ask Grant, Emmett or Huxley to join me.
Other members at the club have expressed interest in being my opponent, but no thank you. They’re more interested in socializing than playing. Or talking business while pretending to exercise. It helps them write off the five-figure annual membership fee as a “business expense.” They’re the kind of guys who bring up their latest merger and acquisition in bed to write off money pay for escorts, too.
Mr. Vaguely Disapproving Butler isn’t around, for once. So I make my own cup of coffee and finish it, along with a bagel from the pantry and a fresh tub of whipped cream cheese from the fridge.
My phone rings, and the screen shows it’s Grant. I put it on speaker on low volume, while grabbing another bagel.
