Page 43 of Threaded Lies

“No. I didn’t stutter. I meant my office.” I offer a shark’s smile as I hold my hands out and gloat in a way I’m unable to with anyone else. “My company. My building. My office.”

Chad rolls his eyes.

Wrong move.

“Congrats. I guess. I didn’t quite make it over to you to say that the other night.” I was too busy kissing your fiancée.

He eyes me leerily—as he should. “Thanks.”

“From what the two of you were just saying?” I say, causing his head to whip back up to mine. “It sounds like you two will have a marriage that will stand the test of time.”

Chad clears his throat and glances over at Rhett.

“I’m talking to you, Chad. No need to look for Rhett’s approval to speak to me. I thought we’d already established this fact.” I lift my brows. “Anyway, as I was saying, sounds like a perfect pairing, but is that what you’re going to tell your kids some day? That you badgered Mommy over and over until you wore her down to the point of exhaustion so that in a weak moment she agreed to marry you?” I blow out a whistle. “And that’s how the men in Westmore think you keep a woman happy.” I take a step back. “No wonder you’re all so fucked up.”

“No, I’ll tell them I gave her what no other person in this town would,” he challenges and has me standing taller.

“What’s that?” I expect some smart-ass retort about happiness or some shit like that but his words knock me back.

I don’t wait for a response. Don’t care to. I turn on my heel, move back toward my office, and call over my shoulder, “Such a pity that your engagement party was such a hit that you have to come in to the office on a Sunday to get fucked over by me, but hey, whatever floats your boat.”

I wouldn’t be surprised if I turned around to find both of them holding their middle fingers up at me. In fact, I’d be disappointed if they weren’t. But I don’t give a fuck and make a point to prove it when I walk into my office and purposely leave my door open so they know everything they say can be heard by me.

And they wouldn’t dare shut their door for privacy. That’s an invitation for me to come in unannounced.

Their murmurs fill the hallway as I half work, half listen to their discussions about nothing. Curiosity has me wondering why the fuck they are here but since Bob has put the deal back on the table, no doubt they came here for the secrecy my presence isn’t affording them.

And while they discuss an offer I made, I refine and revise it on my end, just steps down the hall, as I anticipate their next moves.

I pretend like I didn’t hear the footsteps or expect the knock on my doorjamb when it comes. “Hmm?” I ask before I look up.

Rhett’s standing there, his eyebrows raised as he eyes the decanter of scotch and my empty glass.

“What’s a man without a few indulgences every now and again,” I say and lean back in my chair to welcome this face-off. “Feels like we’ve done this before. Me here. You there. What’s on your mind, Rothschild?”

“You got what you wanted, the majority stake. You don’t need to be such a prick,” he says.

“What I wanted?” I laugh. Your head on a platter? “More like what you sold to keep your shell game going, but I won’t nitpick.”

His glance over his shoulder says his best buddy doesn’t know he’s here sticking up for him.

Aw. How sweet.

“You really get off on this, don’t you?”

“I do. Yes. I’ve never minced words about that, now, have I?” I begin to stack some of the papers on my desk. “You sold me your family company but still look at me as an enemy, so what does that make you? A hypocrite? An opportunist? Or a man desperate enough to sell the very thing that made his family just to save his own ass? Hmm?” I go to open my top desk drawer and just as I tug on it, remember I need to grab the keys.

But my half tug has the drawer opening and my whole body startling.

“What the actual fuck?” I mutter to myself as I stare at the half-opened drawer, my mind buzzing.

“Desk is old,” Rhett states absently, oblivious to the shitstorm of thoughts and revelations sparking all at once. “I’ve always had problems with that drawer. It locks solidly at first but then the mechanism is old. The weight or something about how it’s installed unlatches it sometimes.”

Fuck. Me.

She knows.

She goddamn fucking knows and I wasn’t crazy for thinking it.