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“Enough, we’re not here for a dick measuring contest,” Otis snaps, and I blink, remembering they don’t fully understand the position I’m in.
“Look, Cole,” Otis continues, “We’re not here to point fingers. We want to understand what’s going on with you. I saw the way you looked at Devin last night, like you wanted to strip her down outside that restaurant and sink inside her. And I also know you saw her reaction when Amber rubbed it in her face that you were on a date. Despite everything, you’re going through with this farce with Amber. Why?”
“You don’t understand, you can’t,” I say, feeling defeat settle on my shoulders.
“Make us understand,” Lucian growls, picking up his glass, downing the remains of the amber liquid.
“What’s the point?” I counter, and the glass in his hand lets out an audible whine in his grip.
“It’s not about me,” I start. “Sure, losing the company my family built would suck, but this is about so much more than that. More than the money and fancy cars. More than the authority and connections. More than fame and recognition. It’s about the people.”
“What people?” Dante asks, sitting on the edge of his seat, his glass hanging from between his fingers as he listens intently. Dante always was a good listener. He doesn’t judge or jump to conclusions; he listens to what you have to say, and only then does he decide which side of the line—if there is one—he’s on.
I release a heavy sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose again, the pressure behind my eyes magnifying. “The people who rely on me and this company to provide for their families. Did you know the board wanted me to cut our numbers last year?”
“What?” Lucian asks, sitting back in his seat.
“Yes, by thirty percent. I employ three hundred and sixty thousand people all over the world. Do the math. If I cut our workforce by thirty percent, that’s how many people out of a job, unable to provide for their loved ones?” They stare at me, unblinking. “Can’t do the math? That’s okay, I did it. That’s one hundred and eight thousand people. Those people still have a job because I found a way to cut our spending and increase our revenue by thirty percent and give all our employees across the board a raise. What do you think will happen when I’m not here to stop the board next time they think the best option is to just cut the workforce?”
I take a sip from my glass and then another. The burn of the bourbon as it slips down my throat and hits the pit of my empty stomach reminds me this isn’t a dream, it’s a fucking nightmare.
“Cole, we had no idea.”
“No, you didn’t. You also didn’t ask. But I also didn’t tell you what’s been going on. I need time to figure this shit out, and the blackmail hanging over my head isn’t making things any easier. The board is still pushing for me to cut our numbers and sell the smaller subsidiaries, the ones they deem deadweight.”
“What about Devin? Can’t she help you instead of Amber?” Otis asks, a smile on his face.
“Arthur Lorance, the oldest and most infuriating board member, wants Amber. He pushed her on me since the moment they found out about the blackmail, basically told me I had to marry her, prove to the world I was there with her exploring our relationship, but I’m ready to settle down and be a family man, or they would vote me out.”
“That sounds suspicious,” Lucian comments, resting his right ankle over his left knee, a contemplative expression on his face.
“I agree, something else I’m trying to work out. There’s a lot going on, and right now, I’m just trying to buy the time to do that. I’m sorry Devin has gotten caught in the crossfire, and Amber gained ammunition to hurt her feelings. Please, tell her this was never my intention.”
“It’s more than just Amber, Cole.” Otis takes a deep breath and exchanges a glance with Lucian, who nods his approval. Obviously, they’ve discussed something that the rest of us were not a part of.
“What is it, Otis?” I ask, hating this silent exchange.
“The people blackmailing you … they paid a visit to Devin as well. They broke into her apartment. She thought it was us toying with her. I quickly put an end to that line of thinking, but the damage has been done. From what Lucian gathered, they used pictures from her night with us at the club and from a recent date she had with Dante.”
“Fucking pieces of shit,” I roar, throwing my glass at the door, shattering the tumbler into pieces, much like my hold on my anger. Sitting forward, my elbows resting on my knees, I drop my head in my hands. “Who are these assholes?”
“I don’t know, Cole, but they’ve messed with the wrong people. They messed with people we care very much about. We will find them and put an end to this … before you walk down that aisle,” Lucian declares, and others sound their agreements.
“I can’t let you guys get involved.”
“Like fuck you can’t,” Lucian nearly yells, slamming his glass back down on the table. He stands and walks over to where I’m sitting and sits on the edge of the table. He grips my shoulder in a hold so tight it’s both grounding and painful. “I suck at this family shit, but you’re my brother, Cole—not by blood, but by choice—and you look out for family.”
In unison, Dante, Lucian, and Otis’ phones chime. They pull out their phones, glance at each other, and start typing.
“Devin?” I ask.
“Yeah, she needs help moving furniture around. Her best friend is moving to town this weekend, and she needs to make room,” Dante explains absently, his fingers flying over the keys.
“Not that her loft isn’t big enough. That place is fucking huge. How she landed a place like that, I have no clue,” Otis exclaims, his eyes widening.
“She owns it. She has a trust her grandfather set up for her before he died. She said it was so she could follow her dreams of working at the public library here in the city,” Lucian explains, his comment nudging and tickling at something in the back of my mind.
“A trust, you say. What’s her last name?” I ask, my mind whirling with thoughts of information and plotting.
