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“I’d prefer the truth,” I blurt out.
Rather than take offense, Dahlia’s smile widens. “About?”
All I can do is shrug. “Everything.”
CHAPTER7
graeme
“You know what I find amusing, Bellamy?” Adrian Riley starts once we’re alone. “You haven’t spoken to Alex in what? Five years? Seven? And yet he wasstillable to predict your reaction—exceptfor the rejection of the merger.” He cocks his head to observe me in the lighting thrown from a hanging chandelier. “He seemed convinced that you would dump your share in what you so eloquently described as ‘hismistake.’”
“Minds can change,” I retort coldly. “Like most men in business, I’ve since learned to prioritize making money over pride.”
“Pride,” Adrian repeats, his brow furrowing. “Is that what you call it…”
“Now let me tellyousomething that I find amusing, Riley,” I interject. “The fact that you would make room in your schedule merely to discuss my delinquent brother. You know, my mother has plenty of vices for you to exploit. Shall we discuss her next? I’ll even offer up the first target for you to strike. How about her alcoholism? Now there’s a start…”
Riley chuckles and runs the fingers of his left hand along his lapel. “A mother’s loyalty is much harder to sway than that of a ‘delinquent’ brother,” he says with a small, infuriating smile. “Frankly, I have no desire to takethatroute to reach you. Now, about this proposed merger—”
“Ah yes,” I say, cutting over him. “This merger. I find it intriguing how the offer only comesnow, seven years later, when originally you seemed content to let Alexander flounder after you manipulated him into your trap.”
“Funny.” Riley’s amused expression falls flat. “I don’t seem to remember it playing out in quite that manner.”
A bloody damn lie. “Well, regardless of your murky memory on the subject, consider any form of merger completely off the table from this moment on.”
Rather than scowl in defeat, Riley smirks once again, unshaken. “I think you will soon reconsider that position, Bellamy.” He turns and approaches his desk. After rummaging through a drawer, he withdraws a stack of documents that he casually sets down. Coincidentally, they face in my direction, allowing me to easily make out what appears to be an old newspaper.
The images of two children dominate the center page beneath a decade’s old headline—Multi-state Kidnapping Saga Comes to an End.
From Riley’s satisfied grin, the words might as well be some sort of smoking gun.
“Unless you’re accusing my company of partaking in a kidnapping ring, I don’t understand the connection,” I reply.
His smirk widens. “You don’t?” With a seemingly casual swipe of his hand, he nudges the document closer.
My gaze goes to one of the children featured a second time—a girl with a crooked smile and blue eyes. Familiar eyes. Even with years shaved off her appearance, it’s uncanny just how quickly I recognize Evelyn King—except the name crammed beneath the image, in small print, reads,Evelyn Browning.
“I think your investors might take offense to the fact that your righthand woman was involved in such a scandal.”
“Kidnapping?” I sardonically reply, but I can’t keep the anger from my voice.Damn.My hand curls into a fist to keep from snatching the damn paper and scouring it for clues. Apart from her schooling and employment credentials, I hadn’t thought to delve into the childhood of Evelyn King.
But Riley had. What the hell had he found?
“Have a seat, Graeme,” he says, indicating a chair nearby with a wave of his hand.
I don’t move so much as a bloody muscle. The bastard takes his time arranging his chair before sitting down regardless. He folds his hands in front of him, allowing his thumb to toy with the ring on his right hand. “I’ll admit it. I’m impressed at how well you manage to run the London club, even after uprooting to America.”
“Is that so?” I grit my teeth to hold back a nastier retort. I’m sure that by saddling my black sheep of a brother with a monumental debt, Riley thought he’d put enough shame on the Bellamy name that it would take decades to outrun. What I wouldn’t give to have seen the bastard’s face when his scheme failed.
“You’ve even attracted some rather… prominent figures to join under your branch,” he adds, frowning. “I can’t deny that some of those names have caught my interest.”
Ah, and there it is—the root of his sudden interest in a “merger.” “Why?” I ask, glancing around the wide office as if searching for some list tacked on the wall of nefarious schemes he has in the works. “Run out of American socialites to exploit?”
Riley chuckles even as his eyes narrow into a glare of calculation. “Something like that. I never did run in the circles you seemed privy to, Bellamy. Some of us are forced to use our wits inadditionto a strong family name to get things done.”
I don’t challenge the insult. Instead, I meet his gaze fully, refusing to so much as blink. Here he is—the Adrian Riley I know and loathe. Without the suave, polished exterior, he is the same scheming git he’s always been.
Some things never change. A good businessman stakes his livelihood on those rare, stubborn variables.
