Chapter 9 #2
He wants to throw me off by having a conversation where he’s nearly naked.
Probably thinks his body is one of the world’s most magnificent wonders, and he’s probably had women fall for this I’m naked and inherently vulnerable now, so you can trust anything that comes out of my mouth psychological bullshit.
But god, I want to look.
And it’s making me tingle in places I can’t be tingling during this conversation.
“You gonna sit too?” he asks.
“No, thank you.”
He lifts a shoulder, drawing my attention to a long, thick scar across his still-damp skin. “Whatever makes you happy.”
What would make me happy is not having this conversation. But since that’s not an option now— “What do you want?”
“How much are you going to give me?”
“You want a number?”
He scowls. “I’m not for sale. I want information.”
“About?”
“Why you’re here.”
This week has been interesting. I prepped myself well to work in housekeeping—I can make a bed, clean a bathroom, and I take an odd satisfaction in dusting, even if it’s taken a few days to realize I’m being too meticulous and need to work faster, not deeper—but more than the job itself, more than this opportunity to experience the hospitality industry as low-level staff interacting with guests, walking around more or less invisible in a housekeeping uniform is a good way to hear things.
I was under the distinct impression that Theo Monroe and Grey Cartwright, two of the triplets’ best friends here locally, were the more hands-on owners with the retreat center and that Jonas Rutherford wouldn’t be anywhere in the vicinity.
And that a substantial part of the staff would know the triplets.
That’s proven true.
I hear things. File them away. Slowly so far, but it’s happening.
And I definitely haven’t heard anything about Rhys other than that half the housekeeping staff thinks he’s hot.
But my body’s still a little worn down from the nonstop physical activity, and I’d like to fling myself onto the couch in the living room with a pint of ice cream and binge-watch home renovation shows instead of having this conversation.
Not that I can when the couch is his bed.
I rub my brow and frown at him when I’d like to pace the room. Don’t pace, Margot, it shows weakness, my father always said. “I have no intention of causing harm to the triplets.”
“Don’t you?”
“No. I don’t. Why would I want to hurt them?”
“Because they could destroy your family.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, no, a rich and powerful man cheated on his wife and has secret grown children squirreled away somewhere. Don’t let the news know, or his life will be over.”
The man has the decency to cringe, and I don’t think it’s at my flat sarcasm.
And let’s be real.
That’s exactly why I’m afraid my plan won’t work.
It’s why I need the triplets’ help.
They need to convince the board that they’d be a problem and make my father look like a problem. Without that—without that, I need a new plan.
And I don’t like my options. Not when it’s taken four years and a dose of luck to get this close.
“They might want money from you,” Rhys says.
“I have plenty. I also have the capacity and proper positioning to make plenty more. Why wouldn’t I share with siblings who didn’t have the same financial advantages I did?”
“If that’s true, why are you lying to them about who you are?”
“Seriously?”
“If you’re not worried they’ll ruin your family, and you’re not worried they’ll want money, then why lie?”
“I have trust issues in personal relationships.”
“No shit. What else?”
“Trust issues are enough of a reason where I come from.”
“Like you didn’t have them investigated to dig up all the skeletons in their closet before getting within a hundred miles of them.”
He’s not wrong. “Do you like your stepsiblings, Rhys?”
His eye twitches. “We’re not talking about me.”
“So long as you’re threatening to blackmail me, we are. Do you like your stepsiblings?”
There’s something delectable about making a man’s jaw go tight and his lips flat. “No.”
“Do you have any family that you like?”
“No.”
“Do you ever wish you did?”
“You don’t like your family?”
“I adore my sister. Fucking adore her. She’s funny and unpredictable and strong as hell and she has the biggest heart of anyone I know. Why wouldn’t I want to get to know more people who might be like her?”
“While lying about who you are. Great way to build a relationship.”
He shoots, he scores.
I spent too many hours debating if I’d tell them who I really am while I was laying the foundation to come here and meet them.
If there was a way to be fully honest from the start where I wouldn’t be at risk of tipping my hand on what I’d ultimately be asking for or freaking them out at where their genes came from.
Of my father finding out where I am.
In the end, I decided it was better to risk the triplets hating me forever when they find out who I really am than it was to risk that it would get back to my father that I was with sons he didn’t know he had.
The only way my hostile takeover works is if he doesn’t see it coming, so I have to do this the slow and steady way.
But god, I like them.
It’s impossible to not like Lucky. And Jack—bringing his dog and fixing my car? Even Decker—I appreciate the hell out of how much he looks out for the people he cares about.
That’s admirable in my book.
So yes, I want them to like me. All three of them.
It’s a bone-deep, soul-deep, desperate desire to have more family that likes me for me.
Not for my money. Not for my name.
But for the person that I’ve been trying to be.
I shrug at Rhys though. “They already know we’re related. I’m lying because I have trust issues and I want to get to know them, to know if they can like me as a broke housekeeper who has nothing to offer them, before I tell them that their biological father is worth billions of dollars.”
His eyes flicker over my face. “You wanted to call him an asshole. Their asshole biological father.”
He’s not wrong. “Relationships are complicated. Now. What do you want?”
“You seriously expect me to believe you want more siblings like the sister who stole your fiancé?”
I rub my brow and sag against the wall.
People are so annoying sometimes. “Oliver dumped me several years ago when his family was having legal issues. Told me he didn’t want to sully my name when he was also overwhelmed at the position he’d been thrust into unprepared, and he couldn’t handle both me and the job he had to do.
So yes, I was initially pissed and hurt, because that’s a natural reaction to being dumped, but I’ve also had a lot of time to get over it. ”
“Rumor is—”
“Wrong. Rumor is wrong.” I know, because I started it. Margot Merriweather-Brown wants her ex back. They were going to combine their businesses and be the world’s biggest power couple, but then her sister stole him.
I didn’t want Oliver back. I never wanted Oliver back.
Aside from being unwilling to put myself in a position where the same person could hurt me twice—see again, trust issues—I’d seen enough of him the past few years to know that he’s changed from when we were involved, and while I have the utmost respect for who he’s become after all he’s been through, I’m not attracted to him anymore.
Not like that.
Also?
Oliver’s a good person. He deserves to be loved by someone who can put her entire heart and soul into it in a way I never could.
But I had to play the role that I wanted him back so my father would think I was complying with his wishes, and his wish was that I marry Oliver so that I could facilitate a corporate merger that would’ve actually been a takeover of Miles2Go, Oliver’s family’s gas station and convenience store corporation.
That I was still the same heartless, aggressive, business-first daughter that he raised me to be.
People don’t think about you as much when you’re agreeable as they do when you make waves.
So my father has no idea I’m about to destroy him.
He still thinks I’m his good daughter when I’ve had a rage slowly burning hotter by the day every day for the past four years that he’d classify me and Daphne as the good one and the bad one.
Rhys is frowning at me again. “That’s all you’re going to give me? Rumor is wrong?”
“He changed, I changed, Daphne changed. Though, in retrospect, I should’ve known they’d be good together.
They’ve both always been softhearted and cared more about the bigger things in the world.
Oliver needed more fun in his life. Daphne needed someone who’s loyal to a fault.
Especially now, after what my parents did to her.
Congratulations, you now know more about how I feel about this than anyone else in the world, with the exception of my sister and her boyfriend. ”
I should stop talking.
I really should.
The more I tell him, the bigger his request. The more he has to hold over me.
The more he can leak to the press.
But the more I tell him of the parts I want him to know, the more likely he is to see me as less of a bad guy.
And I need him to know I’m not a bad guy.
Parts of me are. It’s impossible to be positioned where I am in business and not make decisions that occasionally—or sometimes even regularly—make me the bad guy to someone.
But I don’t want to hurt the triplets.
I will bend over backward to not hurt the triplets any more than my necessary lies about my identity will hurt them.
“The rumor was your cover story for your sabbatical,” he says slowly.
“Yes. I wanted a way to anonymously get to know my brand-new siblings without all of the pressure that comes with the expectations people have when they find out who I really am.”
I love pressure.
I thrive with pressure, and I love thriving.
But since Daph was disinherited, I’ve discovered an appreciation for other things too. Simpler things like kindness and patience and forgiveness.
The way Rhys’s eyes are narrowing while he studies me—I wonder if he knows.