52. Ford
FORD
Roman
We got it.
Standing outside Mercer Consulting, I dial June’s number and bring my cell to my ear. She answers on the first ring, and my pulse jumps as her quiet voice echoes through the speaker. “Hey.”
“Tell me you’re okay.”
“I’m okay,” she murmurs. It’s as soft and sweet as she is. “Promise.”
My relief only lasts a few seconds, knowing we’ve only fought half the battle. “Jagger’s in the waiting room with Hawke,” I tell her. “They wanted to have eyes on him while you were meeting with Bryan.”
“Smart,” she answers.
Smart? That’s it? I fight the urge to reach through my phone and throttle her. “What’d he say?” I push. “And do you have it recorded?”
“Yup, Roman already confirmed it’s officially recorded, and we can hear him clearly through the hidden mic, but I don’t think Bryan’s going to get cold feet if we need him.”
“What do you mean?” I frown. “Did you, uh, did you kiss him or something?”
“What?” she laughs. “No, not even close.”
“You sure?” I prod. “Because I know I told you to do whatever you needed—”
“I didn’t kiss him, Ford. I barely touched him,” she clarifies.
She touched him? Something sharp and hard burrows between my ribs, and I rub at the ache, refusing to lash out no matter how much I want to. After all, I made this bed. Now, I have to lie in it.
“Where’d you touch him?” I ask, attempting to keep my voice calm, though I have no idea if I’m successful. Inside? Inside, I’m fucking losing it.
Another tinkling laugh echoes through the phone. “I touched his wrist, and when he asked if we were still together, I couldn’t lie, so I dodged the question entirely. Now, can we get on with the real reason I’m calling?”
The real reason. Right. Because torturing myself with potential fallouts like I’ve been doing ever since I asked her to do my family a favor is probably toxic behavior.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, attempting to focus on my sperm donor’s pending demise instead of the image of June touching Bryan’s wrist while wearing a sexy top in a crowded bar. Yes, I asked Roman to send me pictures, and yes, I’m a glutton for punishment.
“Go on,” I push.
“Long story short, as soon as I pointed out that Titas was willing to throw his own boys under the bus, Bryan realized putting any trust in a guy like him was probably a bad idea, so he told me everything.”
My brows raise toward my hairline. Logical. Straightforward. To the point. “Damn, you’re smart,” I tell her.
“Just don’t make me do math.”
With a smirk, I shift my cell to my other ear and look up at the ominous building in front of me. “Never. Now, tell me everything he said.”
It doesn’t take long for her to fill me in. As soon as she’s finished, I tell June I love her, end the call, and tap my cell against my chin. It still feels like there’s something missing. The question is, what is it?
Then, it hits me.
Well, shit. I did not see that coming.
Before I can overthink it, I dial a new number.
“Hello?” a feminine voice answers.
Fuck, I hope I’m wrong.
“Hey, Cobes,” I murmur. “We need to talk.”
When I reach the top floor, the elevator’s double doors glide open, and I walk to my father’s office. Just like they promised, Jagger and Hawke wait outside. Roman’s text was sent to all of us, but I can still discern their anxiousness shining back at me.
“What took you so long?” Jagger demands. “Roman texted twenty minutes ago.”
“Had to make another phone call,” I mutter.
“To whom?”
“Come on. I’ll explain everything.” I push open our father’s door without waiting for an invitation, too amped up to dive into everything twice.
Might as well get it over with.
Daddy Dearest looks up from his computer and quirks his brow. “Ever heard of knocking, son?”
I don’t answer. Why the hell would I? Jagger and Hawke flank my sides, closing the door behind us and locking it for good measure. As the lock clicks into place, Daddy Dearest’s gaze darkens. It’s a look I’ve seen countless times. One hinting at how close he is to the edge.
Buckle up, asshole. We’re just getting started.
I look around his office, then glance back at Jagger sitting on one of the armchairs set in front of our sperm donor’s desk. “I don’t know, man. Even with the paint and new furniture, I still feel like it’ll be hard to get rid of the stink.”
Jagger laces his fingers behind his head and leans back in the chair. “I know, but someone’s gotta take it.”
“What stink?” our father seethes.
I glare back at him. “The one from the fire you orchestrated.”
Recognition sparks, but he stays quiet.
“I gotta give it to you. Turning off the cameras at the house so we wouldn’t have footage? Using June’s ex to cover your tracks?” I whistle. “Bold moves.” I snap my fingers. “And yet, you still missed something.”
If it was possible for the man’s ears to create steam, I have no doubt I’d witness it in this moment. Instead, he stares back at me. Unflinching. Unyielding. “I don’t know to what you’re referring.”
“Of course not.” I turn to Jagger again, giving him a silent request. Let me take this.
Let me handle it. Each of us is so used to letting Jagger take the lead, this feels like a rare opportunity, but I won’t take it without Jagger’s approval.
Even without all of the details I gathered on my phone calls, it’s not that he wouldn’t do it justice.
And it’s not that he demands to be the center of attention in our affairs, either.
But right now feels like my moment. My opportunity to put Daddy Dearest in his place.
However, I’ll only do it if I have my brothers’ support.
With a subtle nod, Jagger glances at Hawke.
His chin dips, too, giving me the floor to bury Titas Harden.
Satisfied, I grip the edge of his black desk and lean forward, crowding our father on the opposite side.
“It took me a little while, you know? To really grasp exactly how deep your hatred for us runs. But then I realized I shouldn’t be surprised at all, now should I?
Of course, you would try to fuck with our heads.
Of course, you’d make it look like Morgan set our house on fire.
Of course, you’d transfer the money from Hawke’s account so your hands would be clean.
And of course, you’d be sure you had a solid alibi on the night of the flames.
” I swear, I can feel Jagger’s and Hawke’s tension emanating behind me as they listen in on all the sordid details, but I ignore it, giving our father my undivided attention.
“But there’s one tiny thing you missed.” His jaw clenches.
“You forgot that we’d remember Cobie has a history with fires. ”
Titas Harden’s gaze turns sharper, and a vein throbs in his forehead. But other than that? The man’s a steel vault. “Are you insinuating your sister started the fire, boy?”
“No, I’m stating that you forced her to.
” I glance back at my brothers. “She didn’t donate the cash.
She saved it for the remodel, knowing we’d need it.
” I turn back to our shit-stain of a father.
“Knowing you’d continue forcing her to prove her loyalty if she wanted to stay in Harden Heights instead of being shipped away again.
” I tap my knuckles against the dark wood.
“I thought it was only the auction, you know? But then I remembered who I was dealing with, and even though Cobie was shipped away before she’d even hit puberty, she knew who she was dealing with, too,” I grit out.
“So, here’s how it’s going to go. You’re going to stay away from Cobie and out of our business.
Then, next week, you’ll stand before the board and announce your retirement.
Not right away. We don't graduate until spring. But for the short term, you’ll begin to hand off your duties one after another until graduation comes.
And then, you’re going to get the hell out of Harden Heights. Forever.”
He glares back at me, his lips pressed so tight, nothing but a pale line. “Do you forget your last name, boy?”
Boy. I always hated when he called me boy. It made me feel young. Naive. Powerless. Now, it only strengthens my resolve. Because we have him. Fuck me, we have him right where we want him. I know it, and I think he knows it, too.
“If you want to keep the benefits that come with the Harden name, you’ll stay away,” I announce. “Your monthly dividend check will be directly deposited into your account, but you won’t step one foot back on these grounds ever again.”
“And if I don’t?” he seethes.
There it is. The chink in his armor. The proof that we’re not as far off as he’d like us to believe. Nah. We have him right where we want him.
I drag my finger along his desk, rubbing the collected dust between my fingertips. “If you don’t, Cobie and Bryan both go on the record to air out all of your dirty laundry.”
“Cobie’s the one who started the fire, and Bryan would never say a word. Not if he wants to keep his job.”
“You know, I was worried about that, too,” I admit. “The thing is, he already admitted it. And we recorded the whole thing.” I bend forward again. “Now, get the hell out of Jagger’s office.”