The more he can leak to the press.
But the more I tell him of the parts I want him to know, the more likely he is to see me as less of a bad guy.
And I need him to know I’m not a bad guy.
Parts of me are. It’s impossible to be positioned where I am in business and not make decisions that occasionally—or sometimes even regularly—make me the bad guy to someone.
But I don’t want to hurt the triplets.
I will bend over backward to not hurt the triplets any more than my necessary lies about my identity will hurt them.
“The rumor was your cover story for your sabbatical,” he says slowly.
“Yes. I wanted a way to anonymously get to know my brand-new siblings without all of the pressure that comes with the expectations people have when they find out who I really am.”
I love pressure.
I thrive with pressure, and I love thriving.
But since Daph was disinherited, I’ve discovered an appreciation for other things too. Simpler things like kindness and patience and forgiveness.
The way Rhys’s eyes are narrowing while he studies me—I wonder if he knows.
He’s seen people who fit my profile before. Worked for a lot of them in his previous job. Technique Group does security for very wealthy clients, and you don’t get wealthy without having some of the same character flaws—quirks—that I have.
And considering Rhys’s mother founded the company, he’s likely been adjacent to my world his entire life.
Which means he probably knows there’s more to a lot of us than a bloodthirsty desire for more, more, more.
“And now that you know my side of the story, you have two minutes to tell me what you want before I have my protection agent take care of you for me,” I tell him.
“If I disappear, I have an email scheduled to go to Decker telling him who you are.”
I lift a shoulder and feign indifference like the idea of having to face Decker and Lucky and Jack this soon with my truth doesn’t send fear slithering through my chest.
I haven’t proven to them yet that I’m a good enough person. That I’m worthy of being someone they call a sister.
Hell, I haven’t proven tomyselfyet that I’m a good enough person. “I’ll deal. Are we negotiating or not?”
“You know half their friends are almost as filthy rich as you are. They’re not going to blink at who you are or how much money you have.”
“Friends aren’t the same as secret family. And how much longer will the triplets be able to protect their dad when they’re carrying around the secret that they’re related to the Merriweather-Browns? Lucky said the story he’s told himself is that their parents found out their dad’s swimmers didn’t work, so they used a sperm donor and didn’t want to talk about it. I can promise you, my father wouldn’t haveeverdonated to a sperm bank, and for all of his faults, I don’t think he would’ve forced himself on a woman either. I’m doing them just as much of a favor right now as I’m doing for myself. One minute, Rhys. What do you want?”
My favorite part of any negotiation is that moment when I know I’ve won.
And this is that moment.
I have the upper hand.
He cares about Decker. Doesn’t want to hurt him.
Hell,Idon’t want to hurt him either. I don’t want to hurt any of them.
The idea of hurting them—that’s the worst.
But the seconds are ticking down and he’s glowering at me, and I suddenly don’t know that I’ve won.
That Rhys might not actually have a price for his silence.
