No, his way of thinking wasn’t exactly rational, but I didn’t tell him that because I understood what he meant. Rule had lacked that family bond. He’d been too young to establish it, and when he thought he’d found something to cling to, those people had turned their backs on him. His opinion of the world had been cemented when he was very young. It hadn’t changed. But his perspective had.
I knew he had good intentions for wanting to introduce Laikyn to the family she didn’t know she had, but I wasn’t sure it was going to work out the way he wanted.
We made our way to one of the many bars scattered throughout the main floor. I let Laikyn order for us, then we found a small seating area tucked in behind a piano. I didn’t rush her, didn’t prompt her to tell me what was on her mind. She would speak when she was ready, and I had my phone out for when the time came.
Her first question came about ten minutes after she downed her first drink and asked a passing waitress for another.
“Why is Rule so adamant about me knowing who my father is?”
The question sounded simple. It wasn’t.
If I answered from a philosophical perspective, it would be that Rule didn’t have a family of his own, and he was relying on old feelings to sway his decisions.
If I answered from a technical perspective, it would be that Rule wanted her to have the fortune her father had left her in a trust so he could ensure she would always be safe.
The problem was those answers both applied, but they no longer mattered because this wasn’t something the Hollywood Fixer could fix.
Rule could give Laikyn a long-lost brother to complete her family unit or a fortune that would ensure her financial security for the rest of her life, but neither would make it any easier for him to say goodbye to her. Or me, for that matter. And I truly believed Rule was expecting Laikyn to walk away. Connecting her to Knox Montgomery and filling her bank account with dollars and cents was his way of telling himself it was okay.
It wasn’t.
Because letting Laikyn walk away was no longer an option. Not for either of us.
30
Rule
Knox Montgomery kept me waiting for nearlyforty-five minutes.
I thought nothing of it at the time. I was sure the guy was busy, and my appointment had been scheduled at the last minute, so I figured he was fitting me into a tiny sliver of time when he could multitask. He wasn’t the first busy guy I’d ever met with. Plus, it gave me time to gather my thoughts and order them in a way that might make sense.
When the receptionist finally escorted me to Knox’s office, I’d had plenty of time to think about what I wanted to say, but the moment the door opened, my brain went on the fritz, and every thought in my head vacated.
Well, except for recognizing my oldest friend, who was sitting cool as a cucumber across from Knox.
“What are you doing here?” I asked Creed.
He was lounging in one of the upholstered chairs in the small seating area near the windows overlooking the Vegas Strip, one ankle resting on the opposite knee, suit jacket unbuttoned, and a glass in his hand. It must be five o’clock somewhere.
“Good to see you too, brother,” Creed replied, lifting his drink in a mock toast.
Across from him was Knox Montgomery, the man I’d only ever seen in photographs. They honestly didn’t do the guy justice. He was every bit the spectacular specimen the media portrayed him to be. From his fancy suit and shiny shoes to his perfectly styled hair and mesmerizing grin, he was the sort of man who captured people’s attention.
I skimmed his features for a few unnecessary seconds, attempting to find any resemblance to Laikyn. Maybe the eyes. Not only the color but also the shape. Other than that, not really.
Someone cleared their throat, and my gaze bounced between the two men. Luckily for me, Knox was a bit more refined than my childhood friend. He got to his feet and approached, holding out his hand.
“It’s good to meet you, Rule.”
“Yeah.” I glared at Creed as I shook Knox’s hand. “Likewise.”
“Please, have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?”
“No.” I continued to singe Creed with my glare. “Thank you.”
“He doesn’t drink,” Creed said with a smirk.
“Why are you here?” I repeated.
