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Dad firmly points to a chair. “This meeting is about you, apparently. Sit down.”
Confused, I lower to the chair as the door opens, but when Dad’s assistant shows Claire Reynolds in, I stand up quickly. “What are you doing here?”
“Nice to see you too, Carter. Looks like you got a bit of what you deserved last night,” she says smugly, gently touching the area below her eye.
“What he deserved?” Dad echoes harshly.
I’d like to think he’s on my side and doesn’t appreciate anyone suggesting that one of his children deserves a beatdown, but realistically, he probably just wants answers. And wants them now.
“He hasn’t told you? Forgive me for letting the cat out of the bag,” Claire says obsequiously, clearly gleeful to be the one to slip the knife in between my ribs. “We had dinner together at the Cartwright estate last night. It was eventful to say the least.”
I see Dad’s tiny flinch at hearing the Cartwright name. He thinks he knows what this is all about now. He ordered me to tell Elena the truth and assumes I did as much, making this his opportunity to smooth over the fallout.
Except he has no idea how deep this goes.
Dad turns on his trademark charm. “It’s nice to see you again, though the ‘eventful’ comment has me worried.” He stands to offer her a handshake, which she takes with a delicate touch.
“You should be, Mr. Harrington. I’m afraid I’m here with some serious concerns.” As she sits, she side eyes me to make her point clear.
Dad and I sit back down and dread fills my gut. I spent all night trying to figure out a way to fix this, but there’s no coming back from it, no matter how much I wish it wasn’t so.
When Zack came barreling through my door last night, shouting and throwing a clean hook to my eye followed by a punch to my gut before really getting to work, I let him. I didn’t care because the truth was that I was thinking about Luna.
I was bent over and wheezing when Zack snarled at me. “I knew this would fucking happen. I warned you, thinking maybe you’d stop being led around by your dick and use your brain for a change. Especially with my sister.”
“Is Luna okay?” I gasp out.
“No thanks to you, but yeah. She’s home, bawling her eyes out with Samantha. You should lock your door because Sam’s crazy as shit and will probably go for a little light BnE tonight and make what I’m about to do look like love taps.”
“Aww, you do care,” I grunt, smiling through the pain as he hammers me in the ribs again. Not the face, baby. It’s the moneymaker.
“Fuck you, Carter. Leave my sister alone.”
Standing but still hunched a bit, I clarify, “We still having lunch later this week?”
“Yeah. Your treat.”
Zack had left, but I’d been stuck on the image of Luna crying and hadn’t been able to focus properly on what I could do to fix this deal. Now, ready or not, it’s showtime.
“I’m happy to hear any concerns you might have,” Dad tells Claire, throwing the door wide open for her to fully destroy me.
She smiles evilly but schools her face into something more akin to concern as if she just remembered that she’s not supposed to be smug about this situation.
“Dad—” I start, but he holds up a hand, cutting me off.
“Ms. Reynolds,” he says, giving her back the floor.
“Thank you. I had concerns from the get-go when Carter approached my aunt, but after last night . . .” She fades off, making a clicking sound with her tongue. “Well, suffice it to say, I’m alarmed at the way he’s represented Blue Lake Assets.”
She looks around Dad’s office as though it’s a used car salesman’s trailer, playing to Dad’s deepest concern—the legacy of the family business.
“What exactly happened?”
“I think you have some idea, given that you also referred to Luna as Carter’s wife during the dinner at your home.” The accusation is bold, especially given the disappointed tone she adopts.
Dad sighs and shoots me a look of frustration before returning his attention to Claire. “Yes, unfortunately,” he starts, weaving his fingers together on his desktop. “After dinner, Carter and I discussed that the misunderstanding about his marriage needed to be addressed. I presume this is about that.”
Claire narrows her eyes, assessing Dad again. “Yes . . . and no. Carter didn’t say anything about his marriage after our initial dinner. But I could feel something was off about them—I’m perceptive that way. And when I happened to see Luna out for a cozy dinner with another man? I knew I was right.” She taps a fingernail to her temple as she nods, agreeing with herself.
I try to interrupt to explain, but Dad nearly imperceptibly shakes his head. I inhale deeply, biting back the words . . . for now.
