“You’ve been avoiding my calls.”
What would I have said? My wife is trying to take everything from you? I’ve been a party to it. Dad was right? “Didn’t see a point in talking.”
“You didn’t see a point in talking?” Sarcasm pours over his words. “What about owning up to the fact you bid on multiple properties I was looking into?”
A pit erupts in my stomach. Knowing it was happening and being called on it are two different things. Before this visit I could pretend it wasn’t happening. Now, I have to own up to my mistakes and I’m not fucking ready to do that. Call it pride.
“Small world,” I draw out, letting my lips part and spread into a smirk.
I know I’m being a dick when I have absolutely no reason to be. I’m in the wrong, but I can’t just admit it. This has always been my problem. Instead of owning my mistakes, I hide them under sarcasm and an arrogant attitude. I’m untouchable, is what my actions portray, but inside another piece of me is dying.
“Seriously? That’s your answer?”
I shrug.
“You called Addison?”
“I did business with her for years. Or did you forget? I was once in your spot at The Lancaster.” My words drip with misplaced contempt.
“You were never where I am,” he bites out. His words sting because he’s right. I wasn’t.
“I would have been.”
“But you weren’t. And that’s not my fault.”
It’s not. It’s mine, but it doesn’t make it any less bitter.
“Why are you here, Spencer? Don’t you have an empire to run?”
“I came for answers.”
If answers are what he came for, he came to the wrong place. I’ve been trying to get to the bottom of Chelsea’s shady dealings for some time. I want to direct him to her, but I can’t. I’ve allowed it. I’m culpable.
“There’s nothing to tell, Spencer.”
Not unless I’m ready to divulge that my marriage and life are a sham. I’m not, so I level him with a stare, telling him without words that I won’t budge on this matter.
“Is this a continuing problem I need to worry about?”
“No. I don’t plan on looking into any properties you are,” I huff.
He tilts his head, looking at me as though I can’t be trusted. The truth is, I can’t promise him what I am. Chelsea will do whatever she wants and unless I have someone on her twenty-four seven she’ll get away with it.
“That’s over, and I think this meeting is—”
“Grant. I have the papers . . .” Bridget stops just inside the door and her eyes widen.
“What the fuck?” Spencer asks. He looks from Bridget back to me. ”What the fuck is she doing here?” he screams at me. “As if it’s not bad enough you go after my company, now you’re going after my family?”
“Family?” I ask, playing it like I don’t know. Of course I know who she is, but I don’t confirm it. “Bridget isn’t family.” A sick feeling seeps into my blood. Possession. She’s not his. She’s mine.
“Cut the shit, Grant. It was low enough that you took my property, but to hire Olivia’s sister? You’ve gone too far.”
I look at Bridget. She’s gnawing the inside of her cheek.
“Was this some plot to gain information on what we’re doing at The Lancaster?” Spencer barks at me.
“No. I didn’t hire her. She was sent here by a temp agency.”
Spencer drills Bridget with a stern glare. “What were your motivations?”
“I needed a job,” Bridget yells. “I knew you and my sister would overreact. Karen set me up here and I took it.”
“Karen? Are you fucking kidding me? She knows better. This reeks of something sinister and I’m going to get to the bottom of this,” he spits in my direction. “Does Olivia know?” Spencer asks Bridget.
“No.”
“What the hell, Bridget?” he hisses.
I step forward, walking right up to him. “Don’t speak to her,” I grit out, standing in front him and ready to pounce.
“I’ll speak to her if I want. She’s my girlfriend’s sister, for fuck’s sake.”
“I-I needed a job. I knew if I told her she’d be pissed.” Some of my anger diffuses at the sadness in her voice. She looks as if she may break. She clearly never wanted to make Spencer or her sister upset.
“I think it’s time for you to leave,” I say to Spencer.
He looks at her and she nods. He turns back to me. “We aren’t done yet. Eventually, you owe me answers. About everything.”
I know what he’s asking. He wants to know about a distant past I have no desire to relive.
He walks out.
Bridget just stands there. She looks like a scared little girl, one who isn’t sure what to do or say. Her response is misplaced and alerts me that something else is going on. She’s afraid of something.
“Are you mad?” she whispers.
I walk to her, studying her. Am I mad? It wasn’t like she lied, and who am I to judge? I lied about knowing who she is. I lied about how she ended up here. Fuck, I lied about being married. There isn’t much I didn’t lie about.
“No.” I pull her into my arms and she sinks into my embrace. “You should’ve told me,” I say, pulling back an inch to study her face.
“I’m sorry.” She bites her lower lip. I lift my hand and caress the side of her face. She turns her head toward me, welcoming my comfort.
“I don’t want to lose this job. Lose you. Not yet.”
I lift her chin with my fingers, their tips caressing her jaw. Her blue eyes hold my gaze. “Me neither.”
“Why don’t you talk to your brother? Explain to him.”
“No.”
“Did you go after his company?”
“I did.”
“Was it the money?”
“I’m not motivated by money. I’m motivated by success. To prove myself. To show that I can.”
“To whom?”
“To everyone,” I answer.
“Is that success? Or arrogance?”
“Probably both.” I shrug.
“Seriously, Grant.” She crosses her arms and narrows her eyes at me. It’s cute the way she’s bossing me around. “You need to stop being stubborn and talk to him.”
“I think you should probably take your own advice. Sounds like you and your sister need to have a talk.”
“I will, but not today.”
She leans up and places a kiss on my lips, making all thoughts and questions disappear.
I’m not even home an hour before I hear the knocking on my door. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know it’s my sister Olivia.
I don’t even bother looking through the peephole. I’m actually more surprised that she knocked and didn’t let herself in with her key because she obviously let herself into the building, officially ambushing me. I swing the door open and she walks in. Not speaking. And I know she is livid.
“Why?” she finally says.
I look at her, not really able to voice my reason. How do you say, I finally had something that was mine? Something that was solely about me, and it turned out it wasn’t. I didn’t want her to ruin it.
“It wasn’t about you, so I didn’t mention it.”
The hurt is evident on her face, her eyes dripping agony. “Does Lynn know?”
“Yes.”
She looks like she might cry.
“I don’t care that you work for him,” she says.