Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Luka
Despite my aching blue balls that feel like fucking rocks clanging together, there’s a spring in my step this morning.
Last night was even better than I could’ve imagined.
And trust me, I’ve had plenty of material to pull from, considering I’ve been having wet dreams about the girl since I was twelve.
Who could’ve guessed that my sweet and innocent childhood best friend would be the one to actually match my freak? She may be a little naive and inexperienced, but goddamn was she eager to learn. Hell, just the looks she was giving me over dinner, she was practically begging to be corrupted.
And corrupt her I did.
Holy shit. I wince as my shirt rubs against my sore skin.
I wasn’t the least bit surprised when I woke up to the wicked scratch marks Scout left all over my back.
Who knew she could be so feisty? I’m not ashamed of them; hell, I wish I could show them off.
I fucking love wearing her marks. But I’m pretty sure that’d get me written up for an HR violation in a heartbeat.
Good thing most of my work shirts are black.
My balls are twitching just thinking about how fucking hot last night was. Last night I went easy on her because I didn’t want to overwhelm her too badly. But I fully intend on going back for seconds the first chance I get.
I shift the box of donuts, balancing them on my knee, so I can press the elevator button. I’m in such a good mood, I even got up early this morning and stopped to grab coffee and donuts before touching base for the festival.
Normally, I’d make an excuse to get out of it, but I knew I needed to get out of the house and make myself busy; otherwise, I’d just be stalking Scout on the camera all day.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but now that I know I’ll be coming home to her tonight, it definitely eases some of my nervous energy.
The elevator pings as the doors open, and I’m greeted by Roman’s assistant. “Good morning, Mr. Kingsley. Everyone’s waiting in boardroom three.”
I check my watch, seeing I’m only five minutes late. “Thank you… uh…” My mind goes blank on her name.
“Kennedy,” the young, blonde replies without missing a beat.
“Right, of course.” I nod, then open the box of donuts and offer her the first pick, it’s the least I can do for forgetting her name.
I laugh to myself when she chooses the sole strawberry glaze with sprinkles, Guy’s favorite. “Nice choice.”
I make my way down the hall, the sounds of my brother’s muffled voices growing louder. They seem pretty spirited for it not even being eight a.m. Well, technically eight o’eight now… but who’s really counting?
“You’re late—” Roman says, sending me a glare, and I stop dead in my tracks when I see Judge Sinclair sitting next to him.
He looks far too comfortable, reclined in his chair. He’s wearing a dark gray suit, his shiny black hair greased back, and that pretentious fucking mustache framing his smug smile. My hand instinctively clenches into a fist at my side.
“And you brought donuts.” Guy jumps up from his seat, ready to dig in.
I cautiously take a seat, my eyes darting between Roman, Guy, and Leo, who’s also joined us virtually. I’m not sure what’s going on, but judging by the looks on their faces, they don’t seem happy about it… apart from Guy, anyway, but that’s not really saying much.
“Sorry, I didn’t get you anything. I didn’t realize you’d be joining us,” I say sarcastically as I slide Roman and Guy each their coffees, a double espresso with cinnamon and brown sugar for Roman and an iced strawberry matcha with extra strawberries for Guy.
Judge Sinclair waves off my apology. “It’s quite all right. I’m not much on processed food?—”
“Where’s my strawberry glaze? None of these donuts even have sprinkles, but there’s evidence of sprinkles in the empty space,” Guy blurts out, cutting him off. “Did you eat my fucking donut?”
He stomps toward me with pure murder in his eyes until Roman grabs the back of his shirt and tugs him away. “Knock it off.”
Guy sinks into his chair, now looking more hurt than angry.
“By all means, don’t stop on my account.” Judge Sinclair says, crossing an ankle over his knee like he’s making himself comfortable. “It’s fascinating getting a behind-the-scenes look into what you executives do all day.”
I choose to ignore him, helping myself to a chocolate glaze, like a normal fucking person. “No, I didn’t eat your disgusting strawberry donut. I accidentally forgot the new assistant’s name, and I felt bad, so I offered her a donut. She chose the pink one. Sucks for you, but it’s not my problem.”
“Well, now that we have the important business settled,” Leo says, his voice laced with annoyance and sarcasm.
Roman’s hand pauses over the donut box as if he’s reconsidering if he should partake but ultimately grabs one of the cream-filled glazed. It’s hard to be mad when donuts are involved; that’s just a fact.
“I believe Judge Sinclair has some information he’d like to bring to everyone’s attention regarding the murals Scout’s been working on,” Leo says, gesturing for Judge Sinclair to take the floor.
He clears his throat, that thin, artificially black mustache twitching above his smug grin. “Thank you, Leo.” He passes Roman a stack of papers from his briefcase, then settles back in his chair like he owns the place.
I fucking hate how comfortable he looks. I hope the chair gives out beneath him—just like the time Guy leaned too far back and crashed to the floor in the middle of a shareholder meeting.
“It’s recently been brought to my attention that you neglected to file for the proper permits for the mural you’ve started painting downtown.”
I glance down at the notice in my hand, quickly scanning to see what the fuck he’s going on about.
Apparently, we’re being sued by the Historical Preservation Committee —something I’m just learning existed—for failing to file permits before altering Restaurant since it is considered a historic building.
I shake my head. “I’ve never heard of this committee, and it doesn’t matter anyway because the building is privately owned by my brother.” I toss the paper back at him. “So unless, Jett is bringing these charges, you can take your bullshit somewhere else.”
Roman and Leo seem to share a concerned look, and I hate that he’s making me look like a fuck up right now. I hate that I’ve somehow still managed to prove just how incompetent I really am.
Roman finally breaks the silence. “If what Judge Sinclair is saying is true, do they really have a case against us?” But his question is directed to Leo.
Leo lets out an exhausted sigh, burying his face in his hands as he massages his temples. “I’ll have to have our lawyers look into it.”
“This is bullshit and you know it.” I launch out of my seat and snatch up the discarded paper.
“I may not be the best when it comes to attention to details, but if there was actually a fucking Historical Preservation Committee, I’m pretty sure I’d have been aware of it…
considering this is the exact building I was sentenced to prison for vandalizing.
” I spin to face my brothers, trying to get them to see through this whole facade.
“Don’t you think if such a committee actually existed that he’d have used that to add a few more years to my sentencing? ”
“It’s a fairly new committee,” Judge Sinclair interjects, a touch of humor in his tone. “But the age of the committee still doesn’t change your circumstances. You’re still in violation, and I am prepared to bring this to trial should you choose to ignore this warning .”
“See!” I point to the crooked judge, my blood boiling. “This is all part of his scheme. He’s just trying to get back at me for marrying Scout.”
Judge Sinclair tilts his head side to side, then shrugs.
“So what exactly is it you’re suggesting? What do you really want?” Roman finally asks.
Judge Sinclair spins in his seat, fingers tapping out a slow rhythm on the table as he pulls out a new stack of paperwork from his briefcase.
“I want Luka to file an annulment. Wipe the marriage clean from my daughter’s record, like it never happened.
” He clicks his tongue, his eyes narrowing as he weighs his next words.
“And if he agrees… If he halts progress on that eyesore of a mural he’s forcing her to paint…
I’ll gladly look the other way from these charges.
We can pretend this conversation never happened.
” He spreads his hands in offering, his smug smile firmly in place. “So… What do you say?”
My vision goes red. It takes every ounce of restraint not to leap across this table and strangle this smug bastard with my bare hands. After everything he’s put me through, he really thinks I’d fold that easily?
He severely underestimates the amount of suffering I’m willing to endure if it means I can repay even an ounce of what he’s already taken from me.
Let him dangle his threat over my head all he wants.
Because he and I both know, I’ve already won. Everything else is just the fallout.
“Let me make myself very clear.” I lean forward, my voice low and threatening.
“There is nothing you can say or do that will ever convince me to end my marriage.” I don’t blink.
“So go ahead, take your weak-ass case all the way to the courthouse. But if I find out you’re harassing my wife, that you’re stressing her out in any way…
” I pause letting my words sink in. “Your pride will be the least of your concerns.”
I ball the papers in my fist and launch them at his smug fucking face. It smacks him dead between the eyes and bounces off his forehead. “Now get the fuck out of my face before I change my mind.”
He struggles to keep his composure, jaw clenched, face red as a tomato, as he slowly straightens and makes his way to the door. “I hope you’re prepared for war…Because this is just the beginning.”