“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t pull that. I’ve seen the documents on your computer. The ones you hidandthe ones you faked. You’ve been siphoning money into your personal account. You bought another condo with the Presley investment.”
Michael shook his head, still with that manic grin. “You’re not gonna sayshit. I can still make your boy’s life hell.”
Noah had been expecting it. It still stung.
“I thought you wanted to protect me.”
Michael’s grin twisted. “Ido! But if you’re so dedicated to fuck up your life over that littlenothing?—”
Noah was sick of hearing people slander his boy. He grabbed the base of Michael’s tie and twisted it until Michael was choking.
“Don’t call him that,” he warned. “He’s something. He’s mine. And if you comenearhim, I will ruin your life even more thoroughly than you tried to do to him. Understood?”
Michael stared down at Noah’s hand twisted around his tie. Michael had never seen him like this, Noah realized. He’d only ever seen Noah threaten people when they were kids, throwing himself into fights or mocking them outright. He’d never seen Noah calm and collected as he used a man’s own tie to choke him.
Michael’s face was going red.
Noah tightened his grip. “I said, do you understand?”
Michael gurgled breathlessly. Then he nodded.
“Good.” Noah let him go. “Don’t move on me, and I won’t move on you.”
Michael swayed back. For a moment, he just stood there, massaging his throat, his face still pink.
Noah turned to leave.
“You’re making the wrong choice,” Michael croaked after him.
Noah didn’t bother glancing back. He could see his brother’s reflection in the glass wall: messy, dazed. His eyes were still too bright, like he was holding back tears.
“You don’t get to say that to me,” Noah told him. “Do me a favor: don’t make this any worse for yourself. And get the hell out of my meeting room.”
He opened the door.
Michael scoffed weakly.
“I have shit to do, Mikey. You weren’t going to contribute anything anyway. Get out.”
Michael wavered. Then he stormed out, tossing Noah a look he probably wanted to be intimidating.
Noah leaned into the hall, where several of the people from the meeting were pretending not to notice Michael as he stalked past.
“You can come back in now,” he told them.
Benji was painting when he got home. He’d set up a canvas in the main living room, facing the window. He was painting something golden. Noah didn’t get a good look. As soon as Benji heard his footsteps, he rushed to shove a sheet over it.
“Don’t look,” he yelled.
Noah held up his hands in surrender. “Not looking. Permission to enter?”
“Granted.” Benji pushed his hair out of his face. He had a streak of yellow on his cheek, and another in his long eyelashes. “How was work? Am I allowed back in the hotel?”
“You’re allowed whenever you want.” Noah wiped the yellow off his face, wiping it on the sheet covering the canvas. “I think I can talk him out of doing something stupid. We’re on a level playing field; he’s used to punching down. He knows I can send him to prison if I really commit to it.”
“Which you won’t,” Benji said warily.
