Page 4 of Hard to Handle

“As in Finn Sanderson?” Brex asks. “What do you mean?”

He purses his lips and takes his time meeting each of our eyes before he speaks. “Twelve clients over the past year. That’s what he’s taken from us. I’m not sure if he’s undercutting our commission or if he’s stroking more than just their egos, but it’s not acceptable to me.”

And my father’s tone says it all—he’s worried.

Shit.

“Are we in trouble?” Brexton asks, concern weighing down her voice as she sits forward in her seat. “Is something wrong?”

He looks to where his hands are clasped in front of him and his pause in response sets the mood.

“Dad? Is everything okay?” I ask, my voice shaky as worst-case scenarios fill my head. Is he sick? Is he hiding something from us? He’s been the unbreakable pillar of strength to this family. Slayer of Boogie Men and the King of Bear Hugs for teenage broken hearts. He’s been my strength in dark moments, and I can’t imagine him anything other than redoubtable . . . larger than life. But not now.

When he looks up, his smile is forced, his eyes somber, and that feeling of dread settles in me again. “It’s fine. I just . . . this is all I have to give you girls—this company, my reputation . . . each other.” He twists his lips and nods. “And lately, it feels like I’ve done a bad job at fostering and preserving all of it.”

We all meet eyes across the table. While the four of us may be fiercely competitive, Brexton was right—we love like lions and will fight to the death to protect each other. By the looks on my sisters’ faces, right now is one of those times.

“Is it because of your doctor’s appointment the other day?” Lennox asks, disquiet flooding every syllable, as she voices the one thing I think we’re all wondering but are afraid to put words to.

“We need to take care of Sanderson.” It’s all he says, and a quick glance at Lennox tells me she’s just as worried as I am.

“I think your meaning to that term and my meaning are very different,” Chase says, blasé as can be, when I know the simple mention of her ex-boyfriend has what he did to her flooding back and boiling her blood.

“Don’t worry, Chase. We’ll post your bail,” Brexton murmurs.

While we all laugh, it’s our father’s lack of response that’s most noticeable. He takes his time sweeping his gaze around the table, making sure to stop on each one of ours in that way he has that tells us he’s about to say something profound like he used to do when we were kids and he wanted to make us feel like adults.

He stops when those bright blue eyes stop on mine. “What is it, Dekker?” he asks as I twist my lips in thought and mull over my assumptions.

“Of course, he asks Dekk,” Lennox says to the singsong tune of my other sisters murmuring, “His favorite one,” like they used to do when we were kids.

“You’re just jealous,” I say with a megawatt grin to annoy them.

“Jealous of your shoe collection, maybe,” Chase teases.

“Ladies,” my dad warns. “You have the floor, Dekker.”

I clear my throat and speak. “Obviously the gloves are off when it comes to

stealing our clients. Sanderson doesn’t give a shit about decorum or professional courtesy or—”

“—or anything else other than money or how far her legs are spread.”

If I were taking a sip, I would have spit out the water in reaction to Chase’s remark. It’s a rarity to see any kind of emotion from her, so I nod slowly in response. She’s still hurting all this time later. “That too.”

“You’re the dork who dated the competition,” Lennox says and rolls her eyes as we all laugh. I nudge Chase, hoping Lennox’s comment will ease some of the anger in her eyes, and am glad when a smile creeps onto her lips.

“What are you thinking?” my father asks me, attempting to bring us back to the topic at hand.

“If he has no morals and he’s a prick—”

“A savvy prick,” he adds.

“Exactly. So why can’t we be the same way? As much as I want back the clients he stole from us, we need to think bigger than that.” I tap my pen against my pad. “Maybe we all work together and try to land a huge name.”

“As much as I’d like that”—he shakes his head and chuckles softly—“I’m not quite sure you four working together in that capacity is a wise move. Remember the last time we tried that?”

Brexton shifts uncomfortably, as Dad glances to the wall to his right where the hole in the drywall from her fit of rage has long been patched up. We’ve since banned paperweights from the office.