7. Nepotistic Sack of Overpriced Wine
7
Nepotistic Sack of Overpriced Wine
GREYSON
It took a great deal of focus to hit my usual rep count the following afternoon. My mind locked miles away, staring at gray-blue eyes looking at me like I’d become a Cerberus. But that focus snapped away as Cap whined from behind my bench, and my brother burst through the door of the private gym in my basement.
“What the actual fuck , Grey?” With his usual spectacular finesse, Ollie stormed into the space, paying no mind to Captain as he lifted his head to observe us. With a grunt, I lowered the barbell onto the rack, sighing as I sat up. Inevitable, I supposed. This entire interaction was inevitable. He’d always been fond of the woman, which is why his next growled demand came as no shock to me. “Alice Rhodes?!”
“Evening, Ollie. Nice to see you.”
He tongued a back molar, light brown eyes ablaze with a disproportionate anger. Like mine, Oliver had his hair cropped tight to the sides in a subtle fade but left longer on top. Unlike mine , he liked to leave his dark locks in disarray, swept off to the side, which meant it was hanging across his forehead as he glared down at me. Snatching the towel off the rack, he hocked it at my face, and I swiped it from the air before wiping the sweat from my forehead.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“Will you shut up for a minute and sit down?” I drawled back.
“Fuck off, Grey. She’s a good woman. Bright. Has so much untapped potential. She’s wasted sitting in your office every day, and you have no right to drag her into your world.”
“I know.”
“You wouldn’t know potential if it bit you in the ass,” he growled, beginning to pace in a tight circle.
With a prolonged sigh, I watched him take four long strides to the perimeter of the mats and back. Refraining from making a quip about his lack of congratulations, I forced myself to unclench my jaw. “Are you done?”
“Have I broken your damn jaw yet?”
A devilish grin cracked through my control. I couldn’t help it. Despite growing up in the public eye, we’d tousled like the best of them. Hell, it’s what got us both into the training ring by high school because Mother decided if we couldn’t turn off the instinct, we’d learn to control it. “You’re welcome to try.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“I’ll give you the first shot,” I goaded, leaning onto my knees and watching the feral beast slow to a stop, nostrils still flared with anger as he set his hands on his hips.
“Seriously. What are you thinking?”
It wasn’t really a question, but I’d answer him, anyway. “I’m thinking she found Thunderstrike .” And just like that, Ollie’s mouth snapped shut. His expression transformed from anger to fear in a heartbeat. Was it wise for my brother to be privy to the mercenary group I’d been funding since I was wheeled out of the hospital five years ago? Probably not. Was it even more ill-advised that he’d been on the inner circle of it on more than one occasion? Yeah. But Mattie and Beau were as much my collateral as his. Keeping him on the outs would only leave him in the dark in a situation I very much needed him to be illuminated on. One cannot deliver justice without taking risks. Our loved ones are the primary targets. This meant my brother being properly prepared and his family protected was just as essential as me being prepared. Studying the fear in his eyes, I said simply, “She won’t say anything.”
Temper palpably cooled, he reached up to loosen his tie, yanking at the knot as he begrudgingly lowered onto the bench across from me. Confusion sent those light brown irises somewhere distant a beat before he asked, “How do you know? She…is she…”
“Blackmailing me?” I guessed when his thought drifted off like he couldn’t fully consider it. I scoffed. “No. Until yesterday, I would’ve said she wasn’t capable of that.”
“And now?”
I shook my head, blowing a heavy breath into my cheeks as my eyes widened. Nodding, I declared, “You always had an eye for spectacular talent.”
“What does that mean?”
“She got through those walls in a matter of hours , Ollie. Jax set us up, and I couldn’t even crack those myself.”
“ Alone ?” He asked, his voice heavy with disbelief.
“Nah, not entirely. The guy she sent you to yesterday, Max, he helped.”
“A…friend? That’s more capable than the US government?”
“Laws don’t dictate everyone, Ollie. Some people knowingly play in the gray.”
“Christ.” He palmed at his clean-shaven jaw, shaking his head. “I swear I didn’t have a clue you had anything to find when I authorized her to dig.”
“She went looking for evidence or a defense. I’m not sure which.”
“You would never?—”
I shook my head. “She knows.”
“She hates you,” he pointed out helpfully.
I leveled him with a glare. “Yes. Thank you for that. But she knows I’d never hurt you and Mattie.”
“Where in the hell were they digging?”
“In the wrong places,” I admitted.
“If you stuff a closet with skeletons, you don’t get to pick which one falls out.”
Hanging my head, I studied my hands for a beat. The skin was red, and my veins and tendons were livid with the exertion of exercise. Fuck, if that wasn’t true. Our family had no shortage to choose from. It was how I knew about the evils of this world so intimately.
“You gonna explain how this ended in you proposing to your assistant —that’s an HR nightmare, by the way.”
“Do you remember what Uncle Reggie said yesterday in my office?”
“I cannot see how Uncle Reggie would approve of—let alone suggest—you marry an employee.”
“He said that the only thing that might create a big enough media flurry to swallow the allegation case was a royal American wedding.” I bobbed my head. “I don’t think he’s wrong.”
His eyes narrowed for a long beat, and I just allowed the concept to linger as the cogs turned in his eyes. “And Alice is the only woman the paparazzi have seen at your side since before Beau was born.”
Nodding, I chewed on my lip. “Plus?—”
“Once you’re married, she can’t be forced to testify,” he deduced. When I hesitantly brought my eyes to his, it was a deep analysis looking back at me, not judgment. Maybe a trace of fear. “And what the hell does she get out of this?”
“Protection. Privilege that comes with the last name Hart . My purse strings and a proper Christmas vacation? Aside from her love for Matilda, I’m not entirely sure why she agreed. She’ll have a place on the board as my partner—a say in our philanthropic ventures.”
“I don’t see Alice being that easily bought off. She’s so down to earth—doesn’t care about status or money .” The last two words were practically spat.
“I know.”
“So, what’s she doing?”
Shrugging, I answered honestly. “I’m not actually certain.”
“Then how can we trust her?”
“Call it a gut instinct.”
“Your gut instinct was not to hire her,” he pointed out.
“Quite the opposite.”
His scoff was of comedic proportions. “Is your memory that short?”
“She was pretty and na?ve—why else wouldn’t I have wanted her working directly under you, Ollie?”
“Oh, get fucked,” he snapped, anger flashing in his eyes. “I’m not the one that just propositioned my employee. I’ve never crossed that line, and you know it.”
“But if you were going to, it would take someone as beautiful as Alessandra.”
“You’re saying you were protecting me?”
“It was a rough year. Carly made it a rough year. I wasn’t sure where you were because you wouldn’t talk to anybody.”
“Like you’re any better?” He bit back. No. I wasn’t. Harts didn’t do big feelings. It wasn’t proper. We just stuffed them down and snapped a lid over the containers. “And now? What’s her play in this?”
“Hell, if I know,” I reiterated. “She might throw me under the bus the moment Mattie can inherit. I don’t know .”
“Not a terrible idea—I wish I’d thought of it first.” That soft, melodic voice had both of our heads snapping sideways to where Alessandra hovered in the doorway. “As it is, we have another problem.”
A mirroring figure appeared—minus a few years—with a scowl on her pretty little face. Her hair was darker than Alessandra’s, but just as long, and it was swept back into a loose braid. With eyes nearly the same shade of slate gray, I assumed this was one of her million sisters. Which—at least judging by the hatred rolling off her in waves—was, indeed, a problem.
Alice
Leighton’s teeth were audibly grinding as she stared down the Hart brothers, with determination in the set of her shoulders and fists clenched so tightly her knuckles were white. As if the two men in front of us couldn’t erase us both from existence with a nod to a couple of well-placed henchmen.
“You don’t have a problem; you are the problem,” Leighton spat, crossing the distance as both men found their feet.
“ Leigh ,” I scolded, but she paid me no heed. Nope. My baby sister was marching right across the space on a warpath.
“You can’t just wave your wallet around and order people to give up their lives, you self-centered, nepotistic sack of overpriced wine.”
Ollie and I both choked on our laughter. Judging by his prolonged coughing fit, he’d mixed a bit of saliva with his humor, and even as she glared at him, Leighton smacked him across the back like he’d inhaled a grape. Greyson shot daggers in my direction, but I just shrugged, hands up defensively.
“Don’t look at her, you psycho; look at me,” Leighton snapped her fingers, and I decided I’d never been so damn proud to be a Rhodes before. Adorable little psychopath. Growing up with eleven brothers and sisters had its trials, for sure. But she didn’t even have the full story and was ready to soak this immaculate basement gym with gasoline and strike a match herself. My protests be damned. Hell, Leighton and Kaia had gone full-blown retribution on one of their bullies growing up, and he ended up leaving the school for the shame of it. We were all athletes—save for Finn—but it was the twins we could count on getting red-carded and going toe-to-toe with the refs. Authority had never been a qualifier for respect in her world, and I envied that as she jerked her hand away from Ollie when he straightened, leveling Greyson with a glare capable of igniting him.
With an exasperated huff, Greyson arched a brow, looking down at the infuriated little sprite all up in his business. “Ms. Rhodes, I assume?”
“ Leighton , you entitled prick.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance.” I swore the corner of his lips quirked if I wasn't kidding myself.
“Can’t say the same. And you—” she spat, whipping her face to Oliver, whose cheeks were a little flushed. “What the fuck are you doing standing by for this bullshit? You’re going to let him sink three generations of effort by extorting his assistant?”
“Sissy,” I pressed. “It’s not extortion if I agreed to it of my free will,” I insisted.
Not taking her eyes off Greyson, her fists shaking at her side, she snarled, “I. Don’t. Buy it. What did you do? ”
It was Oliver’s wide, amused eyes that caught my focus as he took a step back. “This one is fucking feral.”
“Have you had your pet vaccinated for rabies?” Greyson asked flatly, eyes flicking my way, mask impervious.
“ Pet !?” Leighton shrieked, and I snatched her arm, yanking her away from him as she cocked it back like she’d deck him right in that obnoxiously pretty face.
“I like her,” Ollie declared definitively to nobody in particular.
“Oh, get fucked,” she spat before whirling back on Greyson. “What do you have over her? Huh ?! Because she won’t fucking tell me. And there’s no way on god’s green earth that my sister would marry someone like you unless she was blackmailed into it.”
“Huh,” Ollie muttered. “That’s what I said.”
“And I can promise you—wait, what ?” Her eyes turned back to Ollie, and I couldn’t decide where to look. At calm, cool, collected Greyson with his deceptively unaffected facade, at Ollie, whose arms fought against the fabric of his suit jacket sleeves where he crossed them over his chest, or Leighton who did, admittedly, look a little feral as her fiery eyes landed on him. Her hand had subconsciously settled on the scar on her chest as her temper ratcheted up.
Ollie shrugged. “My first thought was he had something over her, and my second was?—”
“That she was blackmailing me into it,” Greyson supplied in a monotone, eyes boring holes into his brother. They didn’t know what she did or didn’t know. And judging by his expectant eyes on me, he needed me to fill in the blanks.
“I told her about the allegations,” I admitted. “She didn’t think that was substantial enough for me to agree to marry you. She left to kick your ass, and I followed.”
The briefest nod escaped him before Greyson turned those eternally calm eyes on Leighton, who looked notably less likely to bite his face off. “Well. Alessandra, Leighton, would you please join us upstairs for a nightcap?”
“So you can poison us, you robot?!” Leighton interjected, earning a broader smile from Oliver, who took all of this in his usual lighthearted form.
“Yes, thank you. That’s a fantastic idea,” I said over her, elbowing her in the ribs. She shot me a skeptical glare but redirected her irritated huff at Greyson.
Motioning for him to lead the way, she hissed, “Fine.”
Appeasing Leighton and Ollie was a bit like diffusing a bomb. Delicate maneuvers and gentler affirmations. Greyson and I kept locking eyes in desperate attempts to convey information without speaking. While I was battling a gradually rising sense of anxious nausea, he seemed to catch on to the fact that I hadn’t told her about Thunderstrike despite the way it burned in my veins. His entire body relaxed back into the cognac leather couch he occupied across from us. More so when he realized I’d already made her sign an NDA before we came here. Like that was a sizable enough reassurance.
He was as relaxed as you could get in a sweaty set of gym clothes, staring down your very hostile, soon-to-be sister-in-law.
Everything about Greyson’s life seemed stiff and uncomfortable. The gorgeous beach house—known in the community as Hart House—was full of strategically coordinated color but sterile with its lack of personality as though he’d had it staged by a designer. The furniture sat in precise angles, beautiful but intimidating in its pristine condition. Certainly bore no Friday night pizza stains or the forlorn remnants of a glass of wine that sloshed while laughing with friends. There were no scratches from Cap’s nails or worn spots where someone clearly sat more often.
I hadn’t ever really cared to notice before. At first, he intimidated me despite my determination to tell him to shove it where the sun didn’t shine, and then because of my distaste for him. But sitting here now, observing the ostentatious floral arrangements that likely had a four-figure price tag and the art so meticulously chosen…the space felt empty. It checked all the required boxes of shelter and reputation without fully being embraced as a home. Perfect light blue rugs lined the pale, wide-plank flooring in the hallway, where tables sat below the artwork, but there were no discarded books or magazines, no rings left from full cups of coffee hastily set aside, or dents in the corners. It was like I’d wandered into a gallery rather than occupied space. As I stared up at some modern calamity of color framed in gold filigree, I felt… melancholy .
Because only a heart empty of life could exist in a space so…untouched.
I was still staring up at the chaotic slashes of blues and yellows where they harshly intersected against a canvas that seemed too white when Greyson stepped up beside me.
“They gone?”
“Yeah,” he murmured. “I had Arthur take Leighton home. Ollie walked across the street.”
I nodded, but his hand gently settling between my shoulder blades pulled my attention to his eyes.
“That’s twice in twenty-four hours, Alessandra.”
I knew what he meant. Didn’t need to ask. I’d kept his secret twice , just filling Leighton in on the arranged marriage half of this fiasco. Pursing my lips, I returned my focus to the painting. “I have ten more of those to appease, Greyson.”
“If you’re going to back out, now’s the time to do it.”
Studying those abrupt splotches of color, I asked, “You think of an alternate?” When silence was my answer, I said, “Then let’s do this. But be prepared; my older siblings are even more protective than the younger ones.”
He blew out a breath adjacent to a laugh. “Thought she was going to take my jugular out with her teeth.”
Smiling, my gaze fell to my feet. “I wouldn’t put it past her. Don’t forget that.” When he canted his head as if to say ‘noted,’ I added, “I’m sure Ollie would do the same thing for you.”
“Maybe,” he chuckled.
Daring a glance his way, I found those evaluative eyes doing the same. “You two are tight.”
“He’d assume I got myself into the situation and likely be correct. If I were wronged in some way, he certainly wouldn’t approach it head-on like that.”
“I assure you, the slowly destroy your life siblings just haven’t arrived yet.”
“Goodie. Something to look forward to.” Every nerve ending in my body tuned in to where his fingers traced over my shoulder blade until he could gently squeeze my arm. “Come on. I have something I need to show you.”
Greyson led me through the house in an uncomfortable silence, his face thoughtful, and steps unhurried across the soft padded throws. I’d been here dozens of times, but never when the air felt saturated with the weight of so many unsaid things. We made it to one of his guest rooms, and he gently threw open the door. “This can be your room. I had the house cleaner pay it special attention, and she stocked the linens in the bathroom.”
That sickly sensation threatening me stirred my anxiety, a writhing monster beneath my skin.
My room.
Because I had to move into this big, sterile house. Struggling to swallow, I looked around the stunning, immaculate space. The wall to my left bore white floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that kissed the chunky coastal window frame with a view of the ocean wrapped around the far wall. There were a couple of hardbacks scattered between forced-feeling pieces of décor. To my right was the door to the sizable bathroom. Oblivious to my body revolting against me, Greyson explained, “Everyone but security leaves at night, so you can stay in here once they’re gone. I figure you’ll keep your belongings in the owner’s suite with mine to ward off suspicions most effectively. But this will be your space. Use it as you wish.”
My mouth popped open as I stepped onto the lush carpet. It felt criminal to be wearing heels in here, and I glanced at my feet as I looked around with my stomach in my throat.
My. Room . Oh god, I would be living with my boss, lying to the entire world about being with him. For three years. Oh, god, I couldn’t do this.
Before words could form, that throbbing ball in my throat turned into something far more malicious, and I bolted for the ensuite bathroom. That slowly brewing nausea I’d kept at bay while we diffused Leighton became a roaring beast I could no longer contain in my chest.
“ Alessandra ?” He barked after me, concern thick in his tone. But I couldn’t stop. I was going to puke. I was going to puke all over the luxurious carpeting in the room he set aside for me today. Bless every god or goddess or ruler of the universe because I made it to the pristine porcelain bowl as the contents of my stomach roared up my throat. Leighton was a dainty puker—a ladylike ejector. Meanwhile, I threw up like someone was performing an exorcism. It wasn’t quiet. It wasn’t neat. Everything hurt. It was like my stomach was attempting to blow the capillaries in my face. But as I heaved again, warm hands snatched my long hair off my neck and then gently stroked over my back.
“Jesus.” Another sweeping motion over my shoulders. “I’ve got you.”
I’ve got you. Greyson Hart was soothing me. Somehow, that awareness sent me heaving into the toilet all over again. I was going to die plastered to the side of my boss’ toilet. What a shitty way to go. Pun intended.
A frantic laugh spilled from my lips as my stomach stopped its emergency ejection. His harsh fingers kept hold of my hair as I sat back on my heels, gently tugging through it, soothing me as I caught my breath.
“I’ll find a different way to swallow the press. I’m not doing this,” he muttered, finally releasing my hair, although his absence was immediately resented. At least when he was touching me, I didn’t feel alone in this pool of panic. “You’re free and clear; just do me a favor and don’t go digging. This is all on me, Ms. Rhodes.” Without another word, he vanished from the space, and I sat on his cool tile floor, staring unseeingly at the white plaster across from me. He hadn’t been angry that Leighton was in the loop—hadn’t lashed out that I didn’t contain my sister/roommate. He’d just…dealt with the aftermath. Like he’d no doubt deal with the fallout of the impending allegations. But he?—
He was standing on the threshold, observing me. Gingerly, he offered me a glass of water and a washcloth, and I accepted them both, studying the man I swore for two years that I hated.
Free and clear. I was free to bow out of this. Clear from the press. At least for now.
But he wouldn’t be.
Which would implicate Ollie.
Which would threaten Mattie and Beau.
The press had to have something , or they wouldn’t have approached me so brazenly, which meant that every tool was needed for this fight. And for our red herring to work, our news had to break before theirs did. Otherwise, they would dismiss it as a cover-up, and conspiracy theories would spread.
Could I do this?
“Come on, I’ll take you home,” he offered, extending a steady hand.
“I suppose, if this is to work, this just became my home.”
“Alessandra, I mean it. Forget the plan. I’ll deal with it a different way.”
“The press is about to have a field day with your company one way or another. Let’s give them something to talk about.”