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“Meet me in the gym, ten minutes.”
I have a lot of tension to work out.
“Everyone is in the entry,”Geo says the next night, taking a seat across from where I’m sitting at Bertrand’s desk.
I’ve been through everything that I could find, but I haven’t turned up anything out of the ordinary. I can’t imagine where he hid the proof, but I’m going to figure it out.
I ransacked the whole room once I got done pummeling and being pummeled by Geo. The workout helped, but I still feel like something is off, a nervous energy coursing through my veins.
“The room looks … nice,” he remarks, glancing around at all of the scattered papers, files, and office paraphernalia.
I didn’t go easy on the place—that’s for sure. I’m getting impatient, wired. Something is happening—I feel it in my bones—and my fear is that I’ll be too late.
I need to marry Wryn as quickly as possible.
“Thanks for letting me know.”
“Is she joining?” he asks, leaning back slightly and crossing his ankle over his knee.
Tonight, he’s my friend Geo, not my bodyguard.
“No. Don’t want to throw her into the fire just yet.” I stand and approach the liquor cart, grabbing the first thing I see and pouring it into a glass. “You want one?”
“I’m good,” Geo says, and I nod, replacing the decanter and picking up my glass, downing it in one gulp. “Go easy.”
“Fuck you,” I say.
He barks out a laugh, and it makes me smirk; I miss the easy camaraderie of friends. It’s been a long time since I felt like I had any.
“Let’s get this over with,” I say.
“How are you going to feel them out without showing all your cards?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. I would never tell anyone but Geo that. He’s the one person I fully trust, and he knows most of what I know. “Do you have the file on Wryn yet?”
“It should be here by tomorrow.”
“Good. I want to see it as soon as it arrives. Show everyone in.”
Geo leaves, and I start to assemble the mess of papers in front of me. Then, I wait as everyone files in.
Geo takes a seat in a wingback chair in front of the fireplace while Ginny, Vincent’s only child, sits across from him. She turns sideways, her feet dangling as she swings one back and forth.
“Look at what all the cat dragged in,” she says, grinning at everyone in the room.
“Original,” I say, stepping from behind the desk.
It feels weird to call it my desk and even stranger for all of us to be gathered in a place that was previously off-limits to me beyond short visits with my father.
“Nice place,” Dean says, chewing on a toothpick as he leans against the large oak mantel of the fireplace.
“Yeah, I guess so,” I say, moving into the throng.
Everyone presses closer, curious as to why I’ve invited them here, and honestly, I’m curious as to what will come out of my own mouth. I haven’t planned this out well; I’m more flying by the seat of my pants, which usually doesn’t work well in this life. But I don’t really have a choice now.
“We shouldn’t be here. This isn’t safe,” Arie says.
She’s Paul’s daughter—and thankfully not the spitting image of him. Three years younger than her brother, Lucas, she used to tag along when we played, but as we got older, the boys pulled away as we started to form a group.
