My phone hit the carpet with a muffled thud. I braced myself on my knees just in time to catch myself.
In four. Hold seven. Out eight.
It took a solid minute before my heart rate returned to normal. Even then, it was still hard to breathe.
“This better be good.”
I jerked at the sound of the deep voice coming from the other side of the double doors.
Recognition echoed through me.
My stranger.
No, not mine. How could someone whose name I didn’t even know be mine?
“You’d better be telling me someone died or that you’ve sent a hooker for a threesome. Because there’s a Paris ten in my bed, so those are the only two reasons I’d want to hear your voice before coffee and a Viagra for good luck.”
Hooker? Paris ten? Who talked like that?
I rubbed my forehead. I’d never question the reality of beer goggles ever again. Or Vegas tequila goggles.
“I’m sorry, but what in the actual fuck?” The voice turned machete-sharp. “It sounded like you just said Brendan left Blackguard.”
There was a pause. He must have been on the phone, since I couldn’t hear another voice, even as I stood and edged closer to the door. I stopped before opening it when he spoke again.
“And you didn’t say anything? Liam? Shea? No one thought to stop him?”
Blackguard? Brendan? Who were these people? Why did they sound familiar?
The voice began to laugh. Well, that wasn’t the word. It was almost a cackle, laughter laced with the kind of pain that wouldn’t have been out of place at a pariah’s funeral. Whatever had happened wasn’t funny; it was ironic.
“Holy shit. Brendan actually did it. Dad kicked out the golden child, and Bren gave the old man the finger on his way out. Holy fucking shit.” There was another pause before he continued, still laughing almost maniacally, like he couldn’t stop if he tried. “More? What else did he do, moon the board? Set fire to his office? Oh, God, he didn’t piss on the furniture, did he?”
Then, the laughter died abruptly.
“He didwhat?”
The sudden shift in tone made me step back. Was he this mercurial last night? Like he had a whole cast of personalities he held as close to him as a hand of cards, all of them ready to be turned out at a moment’s notice.
How would someone like that react once he realized what we had done?
Or did he already know?
“That’s impossible,” the voice snapped. “I get drunk at charity galas and hit on board members’ wives for fun. Last year, I laced four stakeholders’ drinks with acid just to see what they would do. I’m not CEO material. I’ve never wanted the job.”
My head spun. CEO? Board members? Stakeholders?
Wives? Acid?
Who, exactly, had I accidentally married?
“Why the fuck would he do this? And why me?”
I pressed my ear to the door, my heart hammering again. I should go out there. I needed to go out there.
Whatever the person on the phone said made the man laugh again, but this time, it was less of a cackle, more of a bark, rank with acrimony. “You’re kidding. Since when did Dad turn into a trad wife advocate?”
I frowned but kept listening.
