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I shrug. "Then nothing will financially change for you, but I'm confident you'll have full ownership."
His eyes turn to slits. "Why would you do this for me?"
"I shouldn't since you didn't protect my wife," I seethe.
Guilt fills his face. He holds up his hands, stating, "I'll always regret not warning her."
I stare at him until he squirms.
"Riggs," Kalim interjects.
I rise off the desk and assert, "From now on, you do everything in your power to protect my wife when she's with you. That means no clubs. No putting her in dangerous situations. And if you know something about someone, you fucking tell her and me. Understand?"
He nods. "Okay. I get it."
I release an angry breath and put our differences aside. I saw the footage Noah had on Colton. It'll haunt me for a long time. So as upset as I am that he didn't warn Blakely, I can't blame him for wanting to forget it happened and not tell anyone.
And Colton knows a lot of people in the industry. I'm counting on him to have learned his lesson and fill my wife and me in if there are issues with anyone.
I point toward the door. "You can go talk to Blakely now."
He rises and gets to the door, then spins. "You don't need to talk to Ears."
"Oh? Why is that?" I question.
He takes his phone out of his pocket and swipes at the screen.
My phone buzzes.
Colton states, "Laurie Fisher. Call her. She's an up-and-coming agent, and although she's not as seasoned as Noah, she knows what she's doing. I would have switched to her a long time ago if possible. Interview her. Let me know if you have any red flags, but all the musicians she represents seem to love her."
"How low on the chain is she?" I question.
He softly laughs. "You're ruthless."
"It's my wife's career."
"And mine." He pins his challenging stare on me.
"I'll interview her first and let you know."
"Good." He opens the door and leaves.
Kalim rises. "I'll make sure things go as planned and watch him over the next month."
"Thanks." I extend my hand.
He shakes it and leaves.
I stay in the office and open the safe. I remove an envelope, take out a thin sheet of paper, and then sit back in my chair.
I stare at the black-and-white photo in awe. When I brought Blakely to the private clinic yesterday, the doctor told me she was pregnant. I assume she wasn't lying and doesn't have a clue.
He took an ultrasound while she was asleep. I heard the heartbeat, and he asked if I wanted to know if it was a boy or a girl.
I told him no. As much as I wanted to know, I didn't want to find out without her awake. But she was still foggy when she woke up, and there was so much she was processing I didn't want to overwhelm her.
The doctor made me promise to tell her today. I've already made an appointment with her gynecologist for Monday and had her pregnancy vitamins delivered to the apartment. It was easier to stay in L.A. yesterday than subject her to the long drive back to Malibu.
