Silence stretches on the line.
“Liam, what’s gotten into you? I need you, son.” And the blackmailing tactics bloom.
The hair on my nape stands up. The last time he uttered those words, my world and beliefs were shattered.
Guilt and resentment replaced the naïve enthusiasm and eagerness. The boy who wanted to escape the path decided for him became the man who learned to hate himself.
“I’ve got to go.” I hang up.
The phone almost immediately screeches through the thick air around me, but I cancel his attempt to talk to me.
Silencing the volume, I slide the phone into my pocket.
I step away from the window, determination coursing through my veins. I will continue to seek my perfect revenge, but getting the seat at Merged just gave me a new, unforeseen benefit.
I’ve spent ten years defying him in small, petty ways. But maybe the biggest fuck-you to Sterling Stone would be to succeed at something he didn’t choose. Didn’t guide. Didn’t own.
I look back at the ties spread across the bed.
Structured.
Restrictive.
Symbolic.
I walk out of the room. No tie.
If I’m going to meet Cormac Quinn, I’m meeting him as myself. Not Sterling Stone’s puppet groom. Not Sterling Stone’s ghost.
Just me.
“Let me be honest with you, Liam, when you approached me, I was surprised.” Corm leans back in his white leather sofa chair, observing me with a schooled expression.
He swirls his whiskey.
He hasn’t offered me one. I don’t care. Gin is my preference, anyway. And I wouldn’t want to offend his offer with my refusal.
The offer that hasn’t come, which means this is more of a grilling session than a friendly business meeting.
It makes me wonder if his invitation to stay at the Merged guest suite was a sign of hospitality or a ploy to lull me into a sense of false security about this meeting.
Corm’s office is all sharp angles and curated power—steel shelves, spotless white leather, a massivemonochrome photo of his wife on the wall. It’s meant to impress or intimidate. It does neither.
He sits across from me like a king, which I guess he is in this environment. While his features are unreadable, the pause stretches. He’s waiting for me to say something.
But I just cross my legs and wait. He didn’t ask a question. And silence is my native language.
I can engage in a staring contest for a long time. Much longer than the average person.
Time ticks slowly, and his expression finally shifts to something akin to respect.
So that’s his weakness? Patience. Good to know.
“Why didn’t you buy Xander’s share when he was selling?”
I didn’t expect him to go there, but I’m not letting him see that. I don’t move. “He didn’t tell me he was selling.”
His eyebrows tick, surprise flashing through his features, almost imperceptible. I don’t know what surprised him more—that Xander didn’t tell me or that I admitted it.
