A cold dose of reality seems to shudder through me at the mention of my brother. “I’m not sure. I haven’t spoken with him.”
“I can tell him. I stayed with a friend the last few nights, so I haven’t seen him,” she says.
“How are your parents doing?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Fine.” She shrugs. “My dad wears too many flowers on his shirts, and my mom forces him to go out dancing a few times a week with her. They’re living it up in their Boca retirement era.”
I chuckle, imagining her father in his flowery shirts and her mother dressed in something to match as they dance the night away.
Is it too much to ask for in my own future?
“Depending how long I stay in town, I may pop down to visit them. Or meet halfway or something. How about your dad? What’s the latest there?” she asks.
“I don’t really know,” I murmur. “Liam said Dad heard that there’s a grand jury, so we’ll see what happens next.”
“What does that mean?” she asks.
"A grand jury meets—usually in secret, but not always—reviews the evidence, and they decide if there's enough evidence to issue an indictment," I explain.
“And what’s an indictment? I don’t really watch those lawyer-y shows. I stick to dating shows, so these fancy terms mean zilch to me.”
I chuckle. “A formal charge typically followed by an arrest.”
“Oh, shit. What would be the charges?” she asks.
“Federal law prohibits illegal gambling operations, so there’s that. But I’d imagine they’d also get him for tax evasion, making false statements to federal agents. Maybe money laundering, possibly racketeering. Depends on what they’ve found and the extent of what he’s done.”
“What about Arch?” she asks, her voice softer this time.
“What about him?”
“He’s being investigated, you know. He refused to let me get involved with Bradley Group, but the hypocrite signed off on paperwork for your father, and now he’s being investigated.” She shakes her head as she stares out the window.
“I think we’reallbeing investigated.” For the first time, it strikes me that maybe the whole reason Archer ended things with her was to protect her from our family. Maybe that’s where the finality came from. But she’s still here—just around a different brother now. Maybe it would do her well to remove herself entirely from the Bradley family. “What did you want to use Bradley Group for?”
“I don’t know,” she mutters. “I just had this crazy thought that my destination wedding brand was something I could partner with Bradley Group on. I’ve been around your family for half my life, and it felt like the right sort of partnership, you know? Keep it in the family even though I’ve never technically been family.”
“I don’t think it’s a crazy idea,” I say softly. Truthfully, it’s a beautiful dream, a wonderful goal. It’s something I really believe she could pull off, and I love that she wants to keep it in the family. “You know Bradley Group merged with Van Buren, right? It’s VanBrad now.”
“I heard that. But I think I’ll always think of it as Bradley Group.”
“I could help you with that,” I offer, and I’m not sure why I say it. It’s clearly something Archer didn’t want, but, well…I’m not Archer, and if he was trying to protect her from our father, he’s a separate entity from VanBrad now that Madden extracted him from the company he founded.
“You’d do that?” she asks, an air of appreciation and incredulity in her tone.
She has no idea that I’d doanythingfor her.
I pull into the parking deck. The building I live in is a hotel, but above the hotel, from levels fifteen to thirty-eight, are residences. And residents get a shitload of amenities, including a rooftop pool and sundeck as well as hospitality services. I’ve ordered meals from the four restaurants located in the hotel more times than I’m proud to admit.
We take the private residence elevators up to the thirty-fifth floor, and I unlock the door to my three-bed, three-bath luxury condo.
She’s been here before, and as is her custom when we walk into my place, she rushes to the windows. “God, I always forget how gorgeous this place is.”
“It’s been a while since you’ve been here,” I say, and I drag her suitcase down the hall to one of the guest rooms.
The last time she was here, she and Archer came to visit and only stayed for a few hours. She dragged Archer. He was quiet the whole time while she filled the space with her light.
Every time I walk by the windows, I picture her standing at them, her fingertips lightly resting on the glass in awe of my view, just as she is now when I return from the guest room.
