CHAPTER TWO
NASH
“Are you even listening to me?” My twin brother Archer elbowed me in the gut. Hard.
I grunted, delivering an equal blow into his gut without missing a beat.
He coughed. “Okay, you’re listening. But why aren’t you answering me?”
“What is it?” I snapped, unable to stop myself from scanning the crowd.
Our grand opening celebration of the new office on Wall Street was better attended than I’d anticipated.
I’d never expected my former one-night stand turned tempting deceiver to have now turned into my catering server years later.
In a city this size, what were the fucking odds?
Now that I’d caught Sampson groping her—and kicked him out—I didn’t want to let her out of my sight.
Maybe I was a little curious about what she’d been up to since we last fucked—er, saw each other.
One thing was certain: four years later, she was still the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on.
“I’m about to go on the fucking stage,” Archer hissed. “God, I hate when you get your attitudes. You know what? Never mind.”
“You think I have an attitude?” I returned coolly.
“Listen, I’m the one delivering the speech on our behalf. The least you could do is pretend to listen to me before I go thank all these rich assholes for coming.”
I straightened. He had a point. I dropped the search and moved my gaze to Archer. We were identical twins, so he had the same ice-blue eyes as me and I could see the irritation flaring there. “Sorry. My esteemed brother, the grand, reckless entertainer. What is it?”
“Fuck off with reckless.” He dipped his chin, delivering a severe look. He hated being called that, and I knew it. “We’re announcing the Gideon Hotel project.”
“Great. I think you should.”
“That means you’ll have to stand next to me and smile.
Up there.” Archer squared his jaw, and I knew the subtext.
Get on this fucking stage with me. I tried to school my groan.
The Gideon Hotel project was major for us.
It was a next-level deal that we’d recently secured to revitalize the Gideon family’s flagship Manhattan hotel.
They were the country’s top hotel chain, and to have our name attached to this project was major.
I’d get on the stage for that.
“Okay. I’ll do it.” I stuffed my hands into my pockets, resuming my search for Clara. Or as I’d known her for an evening—Scarlett. “You’re the one speaking on my behalf, the least I can do is look pretty beside you.”
“I’d fucking hope so,” Archer huffed, checking his watch. “Okay, I’m gonna start this shit. Here goes nothing.”
Archer motioned to the DJ, who promptly cut the music and handed him the microphone. He stepped up onto the small stage. I followed a few steps behind him, smiling out at the sea of people.
The room was packed to the brim with colleagues, advisors, acquaintances, and more. I searched each face, hoping for another glimpse of Clara.
But I couldn’t find her again.
Fuck, I still thought about that magical night with that woman.
That liar. Even though I desperately wished it could have been some throw-away night, my twelve hours with her four years ago changed me.
It sounded insane or pathetic or, maybe worst of all, hopelessly romantic.
I didn’t want to be any of those things, so I never admitted out loud to anyone what had happened with her.
The ways in which we’d connected and got lost in each other, until the truth of her exploded between us like a bomb.
But the truth was simple. We’d met by chance at a hotel bar, shared the most scorchingly intimate and sexy night together I’d ever had, and the next morning I found out she’d lied through her teeth about damn near everything: her name, her career, and who knew what else.
I didn’t tolerate liars. Not even beautiful ones.
“Good afternoon, everyone,” Archer boomed in his jovial public voice. “Thank you for joining us today to celebrate Nightly Developments’ new headquarters on Wall Street!”
Applause filled the conference room. I spotted Clara’s manager near the back wall, but no Clara.
“As many of you know,” Archer went on, “my brother Nash and I started this company with a simple mission—to create developments that serve communities, not just profit margins."
More applause. I spotted several city council members nodding approvingly, along with investors who'd backed our previous projects.
This was exactly the kind of event that fostered good will for the future.
It was hard enough going against the grain in this city, but add the fact that we were nobodies from Nowhere, Ohio?
Instant triggering of the generational elites.
The powers that be didn’t want to see scrappy lower-class-boys-turned-billionaires doing things their way.
They only wanted more of their ilk. The ones focused on kickbacks and shareholder profits.
The ones content to evict entire neighborhoods of struggling families with nowhere to go in favor of a high-rise with a higher bottom line.
That wasn’t us. And it would never be.
“Today marks a new chapter for Nightly Developments," Archer went on. “From this office, we’ll be ushering in a new era of development projects, but our focus will always remain on preserving the fabric of existing communities and transforming underutilized spaces into thriving communities that benefit everyone.”
Archer waxed poetic about our mission for a few moments and then segued into the good news with the Gideon Hotel project.
After thunderous applause, he wrapped the speech.
I did my part by waving at the crowd and smiling.
My practiced public smile morphed into a genuine one when my gaze landed on the Fairchild brothers near the middle of the room.
Axel, Damian and Trace nodded, winked, and gave us their thumbs up.
If anyone in this crowd understood our mission, it was those poor-Kentucky-boys-turned-billionaires we counted as some of our only true friends here on Wall Street.
As Archer and I stepped down from the stage, my assistant Marina flagged me down. She was a Type A, no-nonsense assistant who kept on top of her shit and kept me on top of mine. The look on her face told me this was serious.
“Nash, I need you and Archer to come with me.”
“Now?”
“It’s important.” She tipped her head toward the hallway. I elbowed Archer just as he was getting into a conversation with someone at our side.
“Hey. We need to step out with Marina for a second.” When I saw the question marks gathering on Archer’s face, I added, “Urgent matter. I don’t know any details, but she needs us for a minute.”
Archer deflated and nodded. He excused himself from the councilman he’d been chatting with, and we wove our way out of the party behind Marina.
Once we hit the open hallway, where the air was much fresher and the sounds of conversation were fading away, I finally asked “What’s this about?”
“There’s a lawyer here to see you.” Her heels clicked against the tile floor as she led us to the other end of the hall, near Archer’s and my offices. “Do you know a Mr. Pendleton?”
“No.” A sudden visit from a lawyer didn’t seem like a positive twist in the day’s events. “What the hell does he need from us?”
“It’s a family matter,” she said, adjusting her wire rim glasses. “That’s all he would tell me. He said the rest is confidential.”
Archer and I shared a look over her head as we approached the private conference room tucked between our offices.
Our only family, our mother, was currently in Ohio, likely tending her oversized garden, which occupied most of her waking life.
Marina gestured to the door. “I told him to wait in here. He was insistent I bring you to speak to him immediately.”
“Should have just sent him straight to the party,” Archer remarked wryly.
Marina smirked. “I don’t know what’s going on, but good luck in there.”
Archer’s face showed the same confusion I felt as I reached for the door handle. I pushed it open, striding confidently into the conference room. We found an older man with graying hair sitting at the table waiting for us.
“Mr. Pendleton?” I said as he rose and offered his hand.
“Yes. Good afternoon, Mr. Nightingale.” He shook my hand, then turned to my brother. “Mr. Nightingale.”
“My assistant said you needed to speak with us immediately.” I took a seat across the table from him, Archer sitting at my side. “I’ll be honest, I have no idea who you are or why you needed to pull us from our event.”
Mr. Pendleton grimaced. “I do apologize for that. This can be quick. But there’s an urgent matter at hand that we need to discuss.
” He popped open the locks on a leather briefcase sitting on the table and then handed us each a business card.
“I’m with Lexington & Caldwell Law. I’m here regarding the estate of your paternal grandfather. ”
I blinked a few times until the word paternal finally sunk in.
“We don’t know our paternal grandfather,” I said in a clipped tone.
“I’m aware. He passed away six months ago, and you’ve both been named beneficiaries in his will.”
Mr. Pendleton’s words hit me like a hammer. I could feel Archer turn to stone beside me.
“I’m sorry. I—” My hands curled to fists beneath the table as I struggled to process what I was hearing. “He knew about us?”
“It would seem that he found out toward the end of his life.” Mr. Pendleton cleared his throat as he laid some papers out, then peered at us over the top of his glasses.
“I’m sorry I can’t offer more specific details.
I’m sure this comes as a surprise. We had some difficulty locating you, hence the delay. ”