Chapter 45 Lost in a Song
LOST IN A SONG
Brendan
Iwoke to the soft warmth of Simone curled against my side, the musky hint of woodsmoke curling to my nose, and the song of a goldfinch in my ear.
It took me a moment to remember where I was.
A girlish bedroom painted the color of the sky, in which a few spare cobwebs swayed like friendly streamers in the old farmhouse rafters. A wrought-iron bed that barely fit my frame, let alone the angelic being tucked under my arm.
Simone and I had gotten maybe a few hours of sleep when we returned to the farmhouse sometime past one in the morning.
Selena had been taken straight to the hospital to be treated for whatever drug Ezra had given her, but she would be released straight into police custody following her recovery.
A social worker quickly released Kylie into the care of her grandfather, but only after the little girl insisted on giving the police her two cents on the events.
The Woodstock police, as provincial as they were, insisted on the full due process when they were called to the scene of two dead men in the woods, including one who was the son of a prominent local figure.
Not prominent enough. While Simone, my security team, and I were all held for questioning, the police quickly realized they could not charge us with anything related to Ezra’s death, given that I had a slew of witnesses.
Kidnapping, trespassing, extortion, threat to bodily harm—the law was on my side, even if it took several hours to get there.
“It’s called castle doctrine,” I had told Simone on our way to the station when she worried that I would be arrested for murder. “The right to repel intruders from your home.”
Simone’s face blanched as she buried her face in my shoulder, as if it reminded her exactly what had happened to her and her family.
“For once, I’m glad they call me The Black Prince,” I continued as I stroked her hair, “because that fucker made this place my castle the second I signed that document. He stormed it. He had it coming.”
Bas Huntington, Ezra’s father, seemed to agree when he surprised everyone by declining to press charges or even collect his son’s body.
Even more surprising, however, was Simone’s reaction the second her bedroom door shut behind us. I was grateful her father’s room was on the floor below, shielded by three-hundred-year-old beams and substantial insulation, because the way my girl jumped me would have woken a graveyard.
Simone shifted, her back turned to me in the bed. I rolled over and pressed a kiss to her shoulder, and oddly, she tensed, the first sign that she was awake.
“Good morning, angel.”
She turned, her sky-blue eyes still blinking with sleep. Her golden hair was mussed from sleep and sex, and a few marks dappled her skin where I’d left too-rough kisses.
God, she was beautiful. And by some miracle, all mine.
“Hi.”
“Jesus,” I muttered. “What time is it?”
“6:20. I’m sorry I woke you.” The shake, the one I’d heard when she was tied to a chair, was back in her voice.
Our golden haze disappeared.
On instinct, I swung my legs out of bed and stood on guard, uncaring for the fact that I was naked. Whatever had her scared was going to pay whether my dick was out or not. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
The fear in her expression intensified as she held up her phone. “They know.”
I frowned as I yanked on my boxers. “Who? And what do they know?”
“Everyone knows. They know I’m not your fiancée. That you never loved me. That we were never real.”
I took the phone and sat on the bed next to her. “Fuck.”
It was bad. Really bad.
Headline after headline about our fake engagement. The fact that I had paid her to pose as my fiancée. Nothing about the Huntingtons or the events of last night, thank God, but Jesus. How did these leeches get their hands on this story?
I shoved on my pants and undershirt before locating my own phone. Sure enough, there were too many texts to count, including several from Ruth bearing the same headlines.
Only two others caught my eye.
One was a Bloomberg link from Ruth that made my heart feel like it had stopped completely:
Black Prince Out, Bas Huntington In on the Blackguard Board
What the fuck was going on? Bas Huntington was taking my place instead of his dead son?
How?
With that in mind, the second text from my father was more expected.
Dad
Get into the office. Now.
“Brendan?”
I looked at where Simone had sat up in the bed, clutching her crinkled white sheets to her chest.
I crossed the room and kissed her, if only because I was having a hard time breathing, and she had become just as essential as oxygen.
When I was finished, we were both clutching each other’s faces, eyes closed, doing our best to survive.
“It will be okay,” I told her. “Everything will be okay.”
“Will it?”
She was afraid, but somehow…I wasn’t.
Everything was out in the open now. Whatever was waiting for me in that boardroom, I’d deal with it all.
So long as I had my real home to come home to in her.
The boardroom was packed when I arrived at the Blackguard offices late that afternoon. The usual board members were there, along with several executive officers and some faces I hadn’t anticipated.
Mainly one older gentleman with an immaculate fade and an expression hewn from steel.
Bas Huntington.
My father had resumed his place at the head of his table, and by the look of him, you’d never know he’d had a heart attack just a few months earlier. His thick silver hair was combed and gelled back, his charcoal suit perfectly pressed, and his black-ice eyes as sharp as ever.
Beside him sat Owen, looking every inch the heir apparent. Next to him, Liam and Shea rounded out the younger contingent. Ronan was the only one missing, as he was in Vegas yet again.
“Is this the Spanish Inquisition?” I asked as I closed the door behind me. “Or the welcoming committee?”
“Take a seat.” Dad pointed at the lone empty seat at the far end of the table. At least two seats removed from the rest of them.
Shea almost looked sorry for me.
On the other side of the table, a flash of sympathy crossed Liza’s face.
“I trust you’ve seen this?” Dad asked.
A stack of papers slid my way, topped with the front page of the Herald.
The headline shouted from the page:
BLACKGUARD HEIR’S MARRIAGE OF CONVENIENCE EXPOSED
Right above a photo of Simone and me.
“There’s no proof of this.” I didn’t even want to touch the papers. They felt dirty. They ruined the one good thing I had left.
“You know, I knew you were stubborn, but I never thought of you as stupid until now,” Dad snapped.
Beside him, Owen barely managed to hide a smile.
“It doesn’t matter if there’s fucking proof,” Dad continued. “It matters how it looks. Do you have any fucking clue where our stock is at this morning?”
As it happened, I didn’t. For the first time in twenty years, I hadn’t even bothered to check the exchanges when I woke up. Had no clue how the company was faring under my outgoing stewardship.
It felt fucking great.
“Thirty percent!” Dad’s voice boomed across the room. “We’re down fucking THIRTY. PERCENT!”
Everyone flinched.
Everyone but me.
He didn’t have that power over me anymore, I realized.
He never would again.
“That’s unfortunate,” I said calmly. “But I’m sure we’ll bounce back. It’s a long game, Dad. You taught me that.”
“I taught you that,” he muttered. “I didn’t teach you this, you entitled little shit.
And I certainly didn’t teach you to sign away everything that fucking matters for a piece of tail!
Or haven’t you met our newest board member?
A position inherited, apparently, from his son, who befell a terrible accident last night. ”
Everyone turned to where Bas Huntington silently smirked. He nodded toward me. “The Black Prince. Hello.”
I met his gaze evenly. “I’m sorry to hear about the recent tragedy in your family, Huntington. It’s a shame when things like that happen.”
Something in his steely gaze shifted, but he didn’t move. “Indeed.”
We stared at each other for a minute. Maybe five or a hundred. No one spoke. No one even breathed.
It wasn’t until Liza finally cleared her throat and tapped her nails on the paper. “Whoever leaked this had access to confidential information,” she said. “I think that needs to be our first order of business today.”
I looked at Owen, saw the slight smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, and understood.
“You son of a bitch,” I said softly. “You fucking leaked it.”
“Careful.” His smirk, however, widened. “Regardless of who figured this out, I think that and the fact that you’ve signed away half your holdings makes it more than evident you’re not fit to lead the company.”
I shoved up from my seat, throwing the chair back against the wall. “You were the only one who knew from almost the start, you spineless worm. About the farm, about the arrangement with Simone, about all of it. You’ve been documenting everything, waiting for the right moment to destroy me.”
Liam and Shea both gaped over at Owen.
“Dude,” Liam whispered. “You didn’t.”
“Owen, really?” Shea said.
But there was nothing but satisfaction on my brother’s face as he quirked one eyebrow, then turned to Liza. “It’s time.”
“Time for what?” I snapped.
“For your resignation,” Dad snapped right back. “You will resign as the interim CEO. I’ll appoint someone else, which will be neither of the snakes present, and in the meantime, I’ll consult with the executive officers on the running of the company until someone is confirmed.”
“Daddy, you’re not supposed to go back to work,” Shea started.
“I’ll do whatever needs to be fucking done!” he barked. “Since my good-for-nothing children can’t seem to step up to the plate.”
Owen looked like he’d swallowed a whole fucking baseball when he realized he wasn’t going to benefit from his ploy. It disappeared, however, when Liza passed me another document—another contract bearing my name and the terms of my resignation.
I scanned it all and looked up. “All my shares revert to the company? I’m not signing this.”
“It’s not your choice,” Dad said, more calm than he’d been all day.
“There’s a morality clause in your inheritance, boy.
And you fucking broke it with this stunt.
” He shook his head. “There’s an art to fucking people over, Brendan.
You were sloppy. It’s unforgivable.” He gestured back to the contract.
“You’ll retain your personal wealth, of course—I’m not a monster.
But your stake in this company, your position, your future here. ” He shrugged. “You’re out.”
For a moment, I was back in the backyard in Southie, right after Owen and I had finished a fight. Owen had lost, as he usually did, and had gone inside to nurse a split lip. Dad, however, had stayed outside to critique my performance.
If you end a fight, you have to fucking end it, he’d told me. There’s no point in delivering a haymaker if you can’t knock the fuckers out. Like this.
And then he’d punched me. More than that. My own father had knocked me out, right there in the backyard.
And he was knocking me out today.
“Niall,” one of the officers interjected, “perhaps we should discuss—”
“It’s done,” Dad said firmly.
And just like I’d known that day in the yard, I knew it now: the fight was over.
The rest of the meeting passed in a blur.
I signed the papers, knowing that if I didn’t, things would be even worse.
I just wanted to be free.
But just before the meeting adjourned, I did the one thing I could still control.
“I’d like to make a nomination for interim CEO,” I said. “Formally. Before the board.”
Dad raised a sly silver brow. “That’s hardly your place anymore.”
“It’s my right as a departing officer of the company.
” I proceeded to cite the corporate bylaws I’d memorized years ago.
Partly because I was the one who wrote them.
I turned back to Liza, who was already taking official notes that would go to shareholders.
“I nominate Ronan Black for the position.”
The silence in the room was deafening.
Like it was passing through a kaleidoscope, Owen’s face turned several shades of red and purple. “That’s insane. I’m the obvious choice—”
“Are you?” I looked around the table, meeting each board member’s eyes.
“Ronan has been running operations on the tech sector for three years. He knows every secret this company has, does what’s necessary to protect it, and has the ruthlessness needed for the role.
Don’t be fooled by the jokes. He’s a killer, and you all know it.
” I paused, letting my gaze linger on my brother’s furious face.
“Owen has certainly shown his talent for information gathering, but it seemed more about himself than the company.”
“You bastard,” Owen hissed.
“The nomination is seconded,” said Bas Huntington, to everyone’s surprise.
Owen looked like he was going to explode.
“Third,” Liza said, though she looked a bit more reticent with a glance at Liam.
Others began nodding in agreement.
“The nomination will be considered at next week’s meeting,” Dad said tightly. “Liza, you’ll contact Ronan. He needs to get his ass back to Boston.”
And with that, it was over. Twenty years of my life, gone. The company I’d helped build, the empire I’d sacrificed everything for, the family I’d thought would always have my back—all of it finished.
I gathered my things and walked toward the door, feeling strangely light despite everything I’d just lost.
“Brendan,” Shea called after me, but I didn’t stop.
“Brendan!” Owen’s voice was sharp with fury.
I paused at the door, looking back at the room full of people who’d just forced me out of my own life. I’d known it was coming the second I signed those papers in the sugarhouse, but it didn’t make it any easier.
Or maybe it did.
After all, I’d come into this room knowing I’d already lost but had still somehow gained everything.
“For what it’s worth,” I told them, “it was never fake. Everything I’ve ever said about her.
Everything I’ve ever asked of her was real.
The only thing false in it were the things I told myself.
But you should get used to her because Simone Bishop will be my wife, contract or not. And I could never regret that.”