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Leo’s jaw dropped, his eyes growing wide.
Graedon shrugged, a smile narrowing an unexpected bronze stare. “Humor me,” he urged, his palm stroking the sleek stubble shading his jaw and adding something rugged to an otherwise pretty face.
“Something’s got him…changed. Something subtle but it’s strong. I don’t know…” Leo reached for the drink, downed another hearty swig. “He’s still the same ol’ Faro—dictating, strutting around like a little Napoleon.”
Grae let slip a soft chuckle as the image of his older brother came to mind. Leo had captured Faro Clegg perfectly.
“Sorry,” Leo said, yet the grin remained on his attractive, dark face.
“So what’s changed?” Grae asked.
“Well…” Leo expelled a perplexed sigh. “He’s still got the little-big-man complex, but it’s like he’s not as…I don’t know…pressured by all of it as he used to be. Hell if I know, Grae…” Leo leaned back in the deep armchair he occupied and smoothed a hand across the soft salt-and-pepper hair tapered at his nape. “It’s like he’s got the skinny on somethin’ the rest of us don’t. I don’t want to find myself on the evil side of his bad personality if what he knows is that I’ve been feeding you info on how he’s running his side of the business.”
Grae leaned forward a bit in his own chair. “Are you trying to tell me you confirmed the suspicions you came to me with last month—ones in addition to what you gave me six months ago?”
“What can I say? Your brother is one long, consistent train wreck, but this part is still hearsay.”
“Hearsay,” Grae groaned. He angled his gaze toward the low file cabinet that ran the length of the rear wall when the phone there buzzed. He ignored the sound. “Anybody willing to name names? Names bold enough not to hide behind the gossip, but to defend their words.”
Leo didn’t seem hopeful. “Come on, Grae, nobody wants to brush up against Faro, especially when it could mean getting caught between something with you on the other side of it. Everyone knows what a fierce position that could be,” he muttered, rolling his eyes.
The phone buzzed again. Grae answered, primarily to get thoughts best left alone to venture out of his mind.
Leo took advantage of the break in conversation to enjoy the rest of his drink. He’d finished it off before Grae’s rich rumble of a voice became a veritable rasp as he next addressed the unfortunate soul on the other end of the phone line. When he apologized to the caller, Leo realized he was talking to his assistant, Emily Claude.
“I don’t need to see it, Em. Hold on to it till I get out there, all right?” Grae set the phone to its receiver, studied it for an extended moment. “What do you know about a retreat?” he asked before swiveling his desk chair back to face Leo.
“Somethin’ to do with Faro?” Leo asked.
“No idea.” Grae stood, rounded his desk and went to refill the drink for the man who was more like a brother to him than his own. “Sounds like he’s trying to put together some kind of retreat for the family.”
Leo watched Grae slosh more gin into their stout glasses. Silently, he considered the event. Family retreats and reunion s usually had the makings of a lot of unnecessary drama. “Is that it?” He reclaimed the glass Grae handed over. “A retreat made you scare Em that way?”
“He’s already handing out invites to the damn thing.” Grae set aside his drink and went about rolling the sleeves of a navy shirt over wide forearms corded with muscle. “Dropped mine off a few minutes ago. It’s waiting on Em’s desk. Location? Turner Estates and Gardens.”
“Lord.” Leo slumped down into his chair. “Is it confirmed? The place? I just can’t imagine—” Leo paused over speaking Tielle’s name. He knew that wound was still raw, too fresh, even for Graedon to hear without being affected.
Grae needed no additional clarification at any rate. “Em says there’s an asterisk next to the location name designating that it’s ‘subject to change,’ so…”
