A Reluctant Claim (Merged #5)

Chapter 1

Liam

This is my last stint in boardrooms. If everything goes well, I can finally breathe.

“Just give me a second, Mr. Stone. I’ll have your guest pass and the key card for the suite ready in a minute.” The front desk attendant gives me a honeyed smile while her fingers glide across the keys, the typing echoing in the vast, empty corporate foyer.

When I called Cormac Quinn, the CEO of Merged, he graciously offered me their corporate visitor suites, conveniently located one floor above their offices. I adjust my collar.

A voice cuts through the lobby like a ricochet. “Corm, I’m not upstairs because I’m on my way to get you the meeting with Pascal.”

I glance toward the sound and… well, not what I expected.

Actually, I’m not sure what my imagination conjured in the few seconds between my overhearing her and now.

Definitely not her.

The woman who can get me closer to my goal. She doesn’t know she’s already part of the equation. And I don’t have the luxury of caring.

A pixie—or more of a spark—charges across the marble floor. She’s clad in a too-tight sequin dress, her wild dreadlocks tangled into a chaotic bun. The dress is red enough to violate building codes.

And why is she stumbling like a baby deer on black ice?

With her phone between her shoulder and her ear, she bends one knee, lifting her foot and swaying as she tries to take off her shoe.

Her heels look like they were engineered for self-harm. She’s losing the battle with them.

Barreling through the marble space, she mutters something that sounds like she is giving shit to the untouchable Cormac Quinn. If that’s who she’s talking to.

Finally, she yanks the second shoe off mid-stride. She stumbles, catches herself, and swears like a sailor.

She’s juggling balance, phone, and footwear with the coordination of a drunken monkey, and yet somehow, the chaos works.

A streak of sequins, bare feet, and pure defiance.

“Okay, I’ll come back upstairs,” she grumbles, and turns back toward the elevators.

She steps into one, and the lobby falls back into silence.

Little Thunder. Not what I expected, for sure.

The receptionist clears her throat.

I realize I’m still watching the elevator. And smiling. What the fuck? Those muscles in my face haven’t clocked in for years.

“Your pass and your key.” The receptionist clears her throat for the second time.

“I have a dinner meeting. Can I leave my suitcase here?”

“Of course, Mr. Stone. Or I can have security bring it to your suite?”

“Great.”

I tear my eyes from the elevators and step outside. The restaurant is across the street from the Merged offices. Convenient. When I enter, the convenience evaporates.

The dining room buzzes with the evening crowd—too many voices layered on top of each other.

I’ve never understood the need to socialize with people you see for ten hours daily.

Or with any people, for that matter.

“So you’re trying to be me now?” Xander asks after we order, smirking. “Pissing off Dad from the home turf is no longer fun?”

My brother leans back in his chair, studying me as if he could decode my motivations. He can’t. Identical twins don’t get mind-reading privileges.

Of course he would question my sudden interest in acquiring a stake in his company, Merged.

His former company. Six months ago he lost his mind over a woman and gave up his corporate life.

Clearly, he still cares about the insanely successful venture sought by anyone in this world who is looking to expand, to grow, to get richer.

He still cares, even after he foolishly sold his piece of the business to his partner, Cormac Quinn.

I love my brother. But that’s not a reason for oversharing. It’s not like he confided in me when he pulled the same thing and left the family business.

But we’re here, having a conversation, because I might need Xander to succeed at my mission.

The office lights in the building on the other side of the street shine their corporate coolness into the warm night.

Little Thunder is there somewhere. Until tonight, I thought of her as a chess piece. Getting a glimpse of her shifted something. I don’t have time for the unexpected. I need to stay focused.

My father’s latest demand isn’t a suggestion. It’s a deadline. He never issues one without consequences.

I don’t like it. But discomfort is my familiar territory. A path that sealed my heart in something colder than stone.

Xander left. Built his own empire. Rekindled the family ties when it suited him.

I’m not escaping. I’m finishing something.

“Why would I reinvent the wheel?” I shrug and take a sip of my drink.

He snorts. “Why do you need to reinvent the wheel? Father has been relying on you more and more. You’re the Stone heir.”

I look away to hide my wince.

Xander continues. “You deserve it, so this doesn’t seem like a move that would benefit you. You don’t need the money.”

Deserve it? The word doesn’t sit right.

The boardroom was never the destination. It has always been leverage. A necessary proximity. I’ve tolerated the suits. The speeches. The performance of legacy.

They are temporary measures. And once the objective is met, I have no intention of staying.

I wipe the corners of my mouth. Things used to be so easy between me and Xander.

Until we weren’t. Not Xander’s fault. Not mine either.

Sterling Stone broke us efficiently. Precision was always Father’s preferred weapon. Collateral damage never bothered him.

My current plan is volatile, but at least it’s three thousand miles away from him. Not far enough.

“Brother.” I flex my fingers. The room is too loud, every sound scraping along my nerves. “He’s decided I’ll marry. Lock family. Business alliance.”

Feel your hands.

I squeeze my fist. The pressure pushes air back into my lungs.

The server approaches with our entrées, giggling at the fact that we look like… well, like twins.

Xander chitchats with her, while I sigh in boredom to let her know she’s interrupting.

I exhale through my lips. “We’re fine, thanks.”

Her face reddens, and she scurries away finally.

Xander gives me a raised eyebrow. I ignore it. Social expectations bounce off me. Always have.

My brother copes with our upbringing and the pressure of being a Stone through jokes and lightheartedness.

My mask has been a bored expression. It’s been working well for me. Glowering is my weapon.

Xander shakes his head and returns to the topic at hand. “What is his obsession with the Lock family? Those people are shady, and it’s not like he needs them.”

“Who knows? You didn’t marry Tawny Lock. I’m the replacement.”

He glares at me, but then he nods. “I’m sorry.”

“Lock wants a Stone at the helm of one of his legitimate businesses. He thinks it would buy him entry into old money.”

“The fucker doesn’t know what he’s asking for.” Xander snorts. “His motivations are understandable, though. What he has on Dad is the bigger question.”

Oh, I will find that out. Even if it costs me my personal freedom.

“It doesn’t matter,” I lie to my brother. “Since you left, I’m too much on Sterling’s radar. I’m not getting married. Ever. Let alone to someone barely out of childhood.”

I’m not opposed to a strategic marriage, one that stays on paper only, but I’m certainly against Sterling dictating the conditions.

“She is not that young…” He sighs, not finishing the sentence because she is barely eighteen.

Xander pinches the bridge of his nose, and I can almost see how his loyalty to his former partners at Merged wages a war with his loyalty to me.

I should be offended that it is even a choice.

“Okay, but why Merged?” Xander plays with the grilled veggies on his plate, ignoring the steak like our conversation is giving him indigestion.

That I’m definitely not sharing. Not yet, anyway. I glance at the building across the street again.

The key to my revenge is in that building. Without it, I’m just a son who endured for nothing.

The sequined chaos flashes through my mind. Little Thunder.

I almost smile. What the fuck?

She is my leverage. And I don’t need to marry her. I just need proximity.

“Why not?” I take a bite of my fish.

He shakes his head and cuts his meat with measured movements, thinking. When he finally opens his mouth to continue the conversation, he frowns. “What happened to your hand?” He eyes the bandage covering the nasty cut from the base of my thumb to my wrist.

“Nothing.” I dismiss his inquiry. I should have kept my hand under the table.

“Lottie told me you were gone for a month again.” He tilts his head, like that would get me to talk, or him to comprehend.

Our sister currently lives in Paris. She told him I was gone. Jesus. The need to talk about everything. Just the idea is exhausting.

Xander waits. I don’t answer.

Not because I don’t trust him, but because I wouldn’t survive explaining it.

He sighs yet again. “Is Merged just a pit stop before you disappear again? If you want to forge your own way in the business world, you can’t just fuck off as you see fit.”

I couldn’t be less interested in leaving my mark on the business world. “Thank you for the lecture.”

I flex my fingers again.

Maybe if I had left when I was eighteen, I would have been the same happy, charming fucker as my brother. It’s too late for me, but at least I’m finally getting closer to my freedom.

“Don’t be an asshole, Liam. I don’t know where you disappear for weeks, but I know that’s not something Corm would tolerate. I’m just asking you to figure out if Merged is what you want.”

He has a point. But I’m not derailing this conversation.

When I talked to Cormac Quinn about my interest in joining the business, I got the sense he already had someone eyeing the stake in the company. Xander can help.

“Understood.” I put down my cutlery. I guess it’s me who can’t digest this conversation.

Xander snorts. “I know you understand. I’m asking if you’re willing to play by the rules.”

“As if you ever did.”

“I might have done a lot of reckless things, but nobody can question my business ethics.”

“Also known as workaholism.”

“Dedication,” he quips.