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While G-mom changes, I message Wren, but I don’t get a response, which is worrying.
The trip to Moorehead is tense. The anger builds the closer we get. “I’d like to be the one to confront her,” I tell G-mom on the way up to the twenty-seventh floor.
“Of course.” She appears calm, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this furious. Not even when Armstrong set off firecrackers in her garden when we were kids and destroyed her award-winning rosebush.
“And I’d like to check on Wren before we go in there.”
“Understandable. Is she doing okay?”
“She’s got bigger balls than most of the men on staff. She can hold her own, but I’d prefer she doesn’t have to under the circumstances.”
“She really is an amazing woman, isn’t she?” A brief smile appears.
“She is,” I agree.
“You two will make a formidable team.”
“I think so too.”
The elevator dings, and we pass Lulu, who shoots up out of her chair. “Mr. Moorehead, Ms. Moorehead, good morning. Mrs. Moorehead has been asking after you this morning. She seems … agitated, and I don’t believe it has anything to do with Armstrong. She asked that you report directly to her as soon as you arrive.”
“Thank, Lulu.” I keep walking past her desk, but instead of heading toward my mother’s office, I make a left and head for Wren’s.
“But, Mr. Moorehead—”
“I got it handled, Lulu. Don’t worry.”
“That woman deserves a raise for dealing with your mother and your brother.”
“Agreed. I’ll see what I can do about that.” I knock on Wren’s office door and peek inside, but her chair is empty. Once again, I get that terrible, sinking feeling as I stalk down the hall to my mother’s office.
Armstrong pops out as I’m about to pass, blocking my way. “Where have you been this morning? Do you know how many people have asked for you? If you’re going to take the morning off, you should at least tell someone.”
“He was with me.”
Armstrong grimaces when G-mom comes into view. “Oh, Grandmother. I didn’t see you there.” He turns his attention back to me. “If you’d bothered to call your secretary, we would’ve known you were going to be late.”
“It was an unexpected emergency,” G-mom snaps and grabs my elbow. “Come on.”
“Where are you going? You know Mom wants to meet with you, don’t you? She’s not happy with you and whatever’s going on with our handler. Also, it’s not really fair that you get all the perks and I don’t get any. She was mine first, and then you stepped in and took her away from me.”
I spin around and grab him by the tie. “Wren was never yours, not even for half a second. She tolerated you because she had to. You’re an annoying job to her.”
He sneers. “What’re you, other than the dick she’s riding on her way up the social ladder?”
I raise my fist, ready to punch him, but G-mom grabs my arm. “Keep your head, Lincoln. Armstrong, shut your damn mouth. No one wants to hear you spew your narcissistic garbage.”
I release my brother’s tie with a shove. He stumbles into the wall. Of course, being the asshole he is, he can’t let it go. He trails after us. “Why does Mom want to meet with you? What’d you do now?”
I ignore him, because answering means he’ll ask more stupid questions, and I can’t deal with whatever his response will be. The door to my mother’s office is closed, so I knock once and barge on in.
What I find makes me see red. Gwendolyn’s fingers are wrapped around Wren’s wrist, and she’s trying to force a pen into her closed fist. It would almost be comical, since Gwendolyn is clearly at a disadvantage strength-wise.
The door slams against the wall, startling them both. “What the hell is going on?”
Gwendolyn releases Wren and takes a step back. “We’re amending Wren’s contract. Where have you been this morning?”
Wren drops the pen and pushes to a stand. “If by amend, you mean blackmail with another one of your NDAs, then I guess that’s what we’re doing.”
My mother jerks as if she’s been slapped. “I’m trying to protect my family from money-grubbing bottom-feeders like yourself.”
Armstrong’s eyes light up with malicious glee, and he claps his hands together. “You knocked Wren up, didn’t you?”
Wren throws her hands in the air. “Why is that the first conclusion everyone jumps to?” She turns to Armstrong. “I’m not pregnant.”
“Oh.” Armstrong stuffs a hand in his pocket and motions between our mother and Wren. “So, what’d you do now, Linc?”
“This doesn’t concern you,” I retort.
“Well, actually,” G-mom cuts in.
I give her a look. “Seriously?”
“Might as well have everyone involved present. Take a seat, Gwendolyn. You too, Armstrong. We all need to have a talk.”
Wren takes an uncertain step toward the door, but I catch her hand. “You should stay. I need you to stay.”
