Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 124923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
“Oh, ye of little faith,” I say, walking inside his apartment. I let out a low whistle, taking the place in. It’s huge. Open floor plan. All sleek and modern, the complete opposite of our Heartbreak Hill home. I make my way over to the floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the whole city. We’re quite literally above the clouds up here. “I see why you never come home these days.”
“I have a lot of meetings,” he says. “We’re working on expanding our routes.”
“Clearly,” Thayer says drily.
I turn around to see what he means to find a bra dangling from his outstretched hand. My dad snatches it from him with an exasperated expression. I raise a brow, looking at Thayer to see if he’s thinking the same thing. Dear old Dad got some afternoon delight, and I’d bet the delight is still here. Walking down the hallway to my right, I make an educated guess as to where his bedroom is. The door is slightly ajar, so I nudge it open with the toe of my shoe.
A startled blonde, early thirties from the looks of it, is in the middle of shoving her arm through the sleeve of her button-up cream-colored blouse. Her hands fly to conceal her chest and I close my eyes, turning back for the hall. Jesus Christ.
“Sorry to interrupt,” I say over my shoulder. “We have some family business to discuss. You understand.”
She doesn’t respond verbally, but after a second or two, I hear her heels clacking against the floor behind me. Red in the cheeks, she hurries over to my dad, who holds out her bra, appearing unfazed if not mildly annoyed. She stuffs it in her purse as my dad gives her an apologetic yet impersonal pat to the shoulder. “I’ll call you later, Haley.”
She nods, not bothering to acknowledge either of us before she strides out of the apartment.
I fold my arms across my chest, slightly amused but mostly grossed out. “Well, she seems nice,” I say with false cheerfulness once the door slams shut.
He clears his throat, walking over to the bar area, picking up a bottle of whiskey and a glass tumbler. “As always, your timing is impeccable. Turnabout’s fair play, I suppose.”
Thayer sends me a what the fuck is he talking about look and I shrug my shoulders, playing dumb. He doesn’t need to know our dad caught me seconds from being inside Valen on our uncle’s patio.
“I thought I told you to be on your best behavior,” my dad says, switching gears, as if the last sixty seconds never happened.
“I have been on my best behavior. Talk to your brother about behaving.”
“Your best behavior involves coming to blows with your uncle after I specifically asked you to let me handle it?”
“That was after he showed up in Shayne’s dorm.”
That gets his attention. Figures Samuel conveniently left that part out. My dad tolerates most people at best, but he seems to have a soft spot for Shayne, probably due to his lingering feelings for her and Grey’s mom. Something she’d never agree with. He’s well aware of everything that went down last year when Samuel told Christian to make sure Shayne didn’t become a problem. He didn’t consider her a legitimate threat, though. Not really. Us finding out the truth about Danny’s death was an inconvenience at most. He counted on the fact that we were family, and that my dad would be able to shut us up easily enough. And he was fucking right. Until now.
Now that I have his attention, I explain everything. I tell him about Valen covering for us, about Samuel showing up to the dorm she shares with Shayne. I tell him about Christian turning in the video from that night, and how he gloated about having it buried. Against my better judgment, I leave out the part about the security cameras. My dad witnessed what transpired on that balcony with Valen and me, but he never saw her face.
He blows out a breath before pouring himself a glass of whiskey and taking a swig. At eleven A.M. “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about him anymore,” he says after a minute of thinking.
“Oh okay. That’s reassuring,” Thayer says, heavy on the sarcasm. “We’ll just go home now then.”
“He’s currently preoccupied,” he explains. “Your brother’s little speech put eyes on Samuel. It took a few days for news to spread, but the media’s been calling him, asking about Christian. Inevitably, they’ll start looking in other places. Starting with his questionable rulings.” He takes another drink. “Which, you can imagine, is not ideal for him. He’s under a microscope right now and has been working overtime to maintain his image and talking with his lawyers for the past few days. Your grandfather said he’s talking about hiring a crisis management team should things continue to escalate. I guarantee he’ll be too busy and too careful to risk doing anything stupid right now. Especially to his own family.”