Page 81 of Last Resort

The game has changed.

And this selfish prick doesn’t want to play anymore.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Callahan

Eleven Months Ago

The sailboat rocks gently back and forth as I stare out at the horizon, miles upon miles of blue water before us.

I could say the briny scent in my nose and the sun on my face is enough to wash away the bullshit from earlier—but it’d be a lie.

A total fucking lie.

“Where’s Dad?” I ask as I walk into the conference room to find Ford sitting in a chair and Ledger standing with his back against the glass and his arms crossed over his chest.

Fuck. They know.

“Dad is irrelevant at this point,” Ledger grits out, steel in his jaw and ice in his voice.

“It’s his company and therefore he should be here for—”

“For what?” Ledger asks, voice rising with each syllable. “He can’t protect you from this, Cal.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask.

“Don’t play the bullshit innocent routine. Sharpe International is the fucking laughing stock right now because you signed a deal to buy a resort so you could fuck the owner’s daughter.”

What the fuck?

“Everybody knows, Cal. Thanks to your bathroom proposition, you selling us out to get some prized pussy is the talk of the fucking town.”

I glance over to my father. He has a soft smile on his lips, a glass of scotch in his hand, and I wonder if I were able to see his eyes behind his sunglasses, what they would tell me. Is he present? Has his mind escaped him again? Does he even remember what happened earlier today?

For his sake, I hope he doesn’t.

“I didn’t sleep with her,” I say, meeting both of their eyes.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Ledger bellows. “Don’t forget that we know you.”

“Dad can explain everything. He wants the resort as a tribute to Mom. It was his promise to her to buy a piece of land there one day. How—”

“And last night he told me he’d spent his entire thirties in Ibiza. We all know that’s not true because he was here raising us,” Ledger says, his eyes narrowed and mistrusting.

“He should be here,” I shout, hand slapping against the table. I refuse to believe he didn’t have a moment of clarity. I refuse to believe that the one moment of lucidity was the disease fucking tricking me once again. I refuse to accept that I believed it.

“He’s at home, Callahan,” Ford says. “He’s being relieved of his active duties in the company.”

“What?” I practically scream, my tongue suddenly thick in my mouth.

“It’s best for everyone right now,” Ledger says softly.

Panic shudders through me. “That will kill him. Not being here. Not being a part of the company and—”

“So which is it, Cal?” Ledger pushes off the wall and walks toward me. “The signing of the deal. Because if it was Dad’s doing, he’s more harm to us than good right now, but if it was your doing . . . then he can stay at the helm a little longer.”

“You okay, Callahan?” my dad asks, pulling my attention to the here and now instead of thoughts of earlier.