“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Invite me in, Cody. Your girlfriend’s dad left my office twenty minutes ago. He was...disturbed, to say the least.”
I refrain from pointing out that it’s seven in the evening, and he shouldn’t be working at this time. Instead, I hold the door open to let him in.
Blair’s in the bedroom doorway, her cheeks pale as she takes the bulk of my brother in. “Hey,” she says. “Is something wrong?”
“Your dad stopped by Nico’s office,” I explain, gesturing for her to come closer as Nico props himself against the breakfast island. “Go on, bro. What did he want?”
Blair grabs two Coronas from the fridge, popping the caps, her hands trembling softly.
“First, he apologized for Blair ‘crashing’ Logan’s wedding. Said he understands how much distress it must’ve caused me and Mia, and tried promising he’d deal with her in due course.”
“How did he know I was there?” Blair asks, pouring herself a glass of wine, her voice small, face flushed.
“Logan’s socials are full of pictures from the wedding. People were posting all weekend, tagging him and Cass. You and Cody were caught on quite a few.”
“What did you tell him?” I ask, pulling a barstool out for B to sit.
There’s a slight pause, and when he speaks again, a rare note of humor coats his words. “That the past is just that. Past. It doesn’t matter now you two are together.”
“I’m guessing Dad wasn’t happy about that,” B says, already halfway through her wine.
“No, he wasn’t,” Nico confirms. “To cut a long story short, he spent over two hours trying to belittle you, your relationship with Cody, your feelings, and your remorse, all while adding in quite a lot of shit to try and piss me off.”
I smirk, imagining the situation. Nico has a very short fuse wherever Mia’s involved. He’s opinionated and snaps faster than the naked eye can register when anyone disrespects his family but, despite that, he can be surprisingly well composed when he knows he’s being manipulated.
“I guess it didn’t work.”
“You guess correctly. However, Gideon worked himself up rather quickly, and instructed me to cash in his largest portfolio and deposit the money in a Swiss bank account.”
Blair stills beside me, wide-eyed. “That makes no sense,” she whispers. “You’re the only person he respects and the only person he trusts with money. Why would he—oh,” she gasps, suddenly enlightened as she whispers, “Punishment...”
“Punishment?” Nico questions, one eyebrow raised.
“He closed my portfolio. The one he promised I’d get for my twenty-first birthday. He’s threatened to do this for years,” she explains absentmindedly, a tiny, disbelieved chuckle escaping her. “He really thinks I’m like him. He thinks leaving me high and dry will somehow hurt me, and I’ll come crawling back.”
A moment of deafening silence ensues, my older brother mulling her words over, either reading between the lines or recalling whatever Gideon told him. I can almost hear his brain working. He pierces Blair with unyielding eyes, trying to coalesce something solid. While he’s thinking, I top B’s wine glass up.
“He blackmailed you with that portfolio,” Nico finally says, all humor gone from his voice. “I guess the rumors were true.”
“What rumors?” Blair whips her head up, peering at him over the rim of her glass. “What have you heard?”
“That you were interested in the old, rich, influential men your father worked with.” He runs a hand down his face. “I guess it was never a matter of preference orchoice.”
Blair doesn’t respond, but I feel her demeanor shift as shame and dread take over.
“So? Did he say what his plan was now?” I ask, but Nico’s not looking at me. He’s focused on my girl.
“Blair,” he urges and waits until she lifts her eyes. “Your father set up your portfolio during our first meeting. It’s inyourname. Only you can withdraw the money and...” He pauses, something dark and heavy passing over his face.
It almost looks likepity. Blair’s not as hung up on theandas I am, she’s shellshocked byonly you.
“It’s mine?” she asks quietly, eyes big, round, and tearful. “He didn’t take it away?”
“He can’t,” Nico insists, letting out a long sigh. “You’ve had right of access since the day you turned eighteen.”
Her stool scrapes the tiles as she springs to her feet, spilling her wine. I reach out to grab her, but she shrugs me off, shaking all over, eyes full of tears.
