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“Was what me?”
“The Hart house. You outbid me?”
“Maybe,” I say, and yes, I did, partly to be a dick because Mira has been eyeing taking over both plots of land. Probably wants to build an atrocity of a mansion. For all the money she has, her taste is shit. Partly, though, I did it for Ophelia. I didn’t like the idea of the house she grew up being leveled by the Foxes.
Sly signs the NDA, then holds the pen out to Ethan, who comes over. “Gave me a fucking headache having to listen to Mira whine about it. Why are you so fucking petty, Silas? Why bite the hand that feeds you?” Sly asks.
“Fed. Past tense. And we paid for every fucking morsel.”
“What the hell are you going to do with it anyway? I can’t imagine you want to be anywhere near that place. Too many memories, right? And since Phee andEthan are tying the knot soon, well, it’d just be awkward for everyone.”
“Maybe he’s going to make a wedding gift out of it, Dad. ForO. Never did get over your thing for her, did you?”
I bite my tongue comforted by the thought that no way she comes for him like she did for me. No fucking way.
Nigella clears her throat, then points to where Ethan needs to sign the NDA. “This binds all of us here from disclosing any information at all about this loan.”
“Phee know you bought the house?” Sly asks.
“Never said I did.” I sign my part of the document before Nigella puts it away and takes out the second.
Sly scans it as he speaks. “You forget I know how you operate.” He flips through the pages, irritated, until Nigella points to where he needs to sign. He scratches his name on the contract then looks up at me. “You are my son, after all.”
Ethan’s glare is a laser on my brain.
“Don’t say that too loud, Dad. Don’t want to upset my kid brother here.” I vomit a little in my mouth to say the wordsdadandbrotherin reference to the Foxes.
I take the pen from Nigella and sign the contract that will, if my gamble pays off and I think it will, hand me controlling shares of Hart & Fox Enterprises. I just have to be patient a little while longer. I do wish Mom was alive so she could see the Foxes toppled, but she’s not, and honestly, maybe it’s better this way. I’m notsure she’d be very happy with what I’m doing, the way I’m doing it. She was always too good, too kind, for this world.
Ethan reaches for the contract but I stop him. “No need for you to sign this one, kid. The big boys will handle it.”
He looks to his father as if to confirm what I’m saying. Sly nods once. Annoyed, Ethan tosses the pen on the desk. “Nose never did heal right, did it?” he says, eyeing my nose, which had healed back crooked after the beating Sly gave me.
I ignore him. His petty remarks are simply a sign of weakness.
“Everything is signed, as you required. Your turn, Silas,” Sly says. He raises his eyebrows.
Nigella stamps the contract, puts it into her briefcase and closes it, then gives me a nod. I fish my phone out of my pocket.
“Not sure you heard, Silas, but wedding invites go out this weekend. Do we have your latest address?” Ethan asks.
I clench my jaw, initiate the transfer. There is only one thing keeping me from killing the little prick.
“No need.” Confirmation of the transfer flashes across the screen and at the same time, Sly’s phone buzzes. He picks it up, confirms the funds are in his account, and stands. “I hear the bride-to-be is a little skittish,” I say, keeping my face expressionless.
Sly’s gaze narrows on me while Ethan’s shiftsbetween me and his father and back. His hands fist, and I swear smoke blows out of his nose when he exhales. I’d say he looks like a fucking Pitbull, except that would be an insult to Pitbulls.
“Hope you got a solid prenup in place. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, well you know what they say. You don’t want to get swindled out of another several million by another Hart.”
“No prenup. I trust her,” Ethan says, grinning like he just won the fucking lottery.
“Shut the fuck up, Ethan,” Sly says. I raise my eyebrows, turn to him. “While your concern for our welfare is touching, it’s really none of your business, Silas. Ophelia Hart is none of your business, not anymore. I know you had a thing for protecting her growing up, but those days are over.” My jaw ticks and I know Sly doesn’t miss it, but he, unlike his son, is too controlled to give anything away. “While we’re doling out free advice, though, I’ll give you some. Stay away from Horatio Hart. He’s a criminal and a con and he’ll con you just like he did me.”
“Thanks, Dad, appreciate that.” I check my watch. “Gotta go. Need to get my tux for the big shindig.”
“You stay away from Phee, Silas. I mean it,” Sly says.
“Or what? You’ll expect me to stand there and take another beating? Those days are long gone, Sly,” I say, throwing his words back at him.
