55. He Attended the Club
He Attended the Club
Toby
The hotel suite looked like a paper factory had exploded. Gwen had torn through the duffel where she’d stuffed our personal papers, snatching out one after the other, her eyes blistering over the tiny words on the pages before flinging another useless document across the room.
“Hey… Come on…” I crouched beside her and rested my hand on her hunched back. Sometimes, a touch was enough to drag her out of the noisy place in her mind. “Slow down.”
“Slow down?” She almost shrieked at me. “I can’t slow down! I have to do something!”
I got it. I’d never been good at slowing down and thinking things through, either, but I needed to step up and be the strong one this time.
“Gwen.” My voice was gentle but firm. “You heard my mother. She hasn’t seen the…deed…” I grimaced. Was that right? They’d thrown around a lot of words I hadn’t understood—trusts, deeds, titles, and a whole lot of blah had shot across the table like bullets.
“Of course she hasn’t seen the trust deed!” Gwen gritted out, digging back into the duffel and grabbing another handful of paperwork. “I’m keeping it from her, remember? I’m biding my time to get my revenge.” She barked a frustrated laugh. “This isn’t possible! I didn’t sign anything!”
“Maybe you signed it and didn’t realize it? I signed that waiver thing at rock climbing with Zach and didn’t read a damn thing. I pointed at a line and signed. Boom!”
Gwen speared me with a glare. “I’m a lawyer.
I don’t sign anything without reading it.
And it’s not like your dad could’ve just slipped a bit of paper under my nose, and, whoops, I’m now administering your family’s fortune.
There would’ve been a hundred things to sign.
The deed. Titles over all the properties.
Accounts.” She went very still. “You…believe me…” Her head turned, an anguished expression cutting deep lines around her mouth. “Don’t you?”
I didn’t hesitate to shut down any doubts she had. “One hundred percent. Nah…make that one thousand percent. Tanya does, too. You heard her. She scored Dad full points for pulling the ultimate power move from beyond the grave.”
Only the slightest relief edged Gwen’s smile. “If your mother hadn’t shown me that screenshot on her phone of my name being on the title of her house, I’d say she was making it all up to create drama, but…”
“Is there—I dunno—some other way this could’ve happened?”
Gwen sighed, shaking her head. “Unless there’s a master of forgery out there who’s chosen to steal my identity out of everyone else in the world, it’s simply not possible.”
With a growl of frustration, Gwen threw herself back, lying spread-eagled on the floor, eyes closed. She took long breaths as she processed the lunch disaster over and over. I wanted to curl around her in a hug, but I was bolted to the floor, the rusty cogs in my mind creaking into gear.
Master of forgery .
My gaze narrowed on the door of our hotel suite. Maybe there was something I could do. I rose to my feet and started tidying the papers strewn across the hotel room and stacking them in a neat pile.
“Hey, Gwen,” I called over my shoulder as I dropped another document on the pile. “It’s, um… getting late… I, um… Yeah… I might go pick up Noah.” I raked a hand through my hair. Smooth— not .
Gwen didn’t notice my not-quite-a-lie. She grunted at me, eyes still closed, hands pressed to her forehead like she was trying to get her brain to think harder.
“Are you okay for a bit on your own?” I asked.
She grunted again.
I bent over and pecked a kiss goodbye on her forehead, and then I was out the door. My phone was in my hand before I reached the elevator, and I punched in a message to my dear brother-in-law.
Toby
We need to talk.
Now.
I was about to slip my phone back into my pocket when the call came through.
“Sweetheart.” There was a hollow amusement in Liam’s voice. “Are you breaking up with me?”
“Is that an option?” Please say yes.
“You wound me.” He laughed. “What do you want to talk about? Our favorite inspirational quotes? The state of the stock market? It’s appalling, just quietly.”
“Hmm. How about…hobbies?”
“Oh?” His tone turned suspicious. “Are you looking for someone new to join you and Romeo for quilting? I accept.”
“As fun as that would be, I’ve been wondering when Elias last practiced his beautiful penmanship.”
“And why would you wonder that?”
“I had a fascinating conversation with my mother today.”
“Did you just?”
“I did. She thinks Gwen has secretly been put in charge of my family’s fortune. Isn’t that hilarious?”
“Hysterical.”
“The even funnier part is that Gwen can’t remember a single detail about this, and, well, we both know that if there’s something Gwen doesn’t forget, it’s details. Especially—I don’t know—millions of dollars’ worth of details.”
“That is an interesting story.”
“Cut the crap, Liam. I’ve got a very freaked-out wife in my hotel room, and since I’m besties with half the cops in Sydney now, I’m more than happy to stop by the station to file another complaint—this time, against you. So, unless you want me spilling my guts, you better start talking. Now .”
“I do love our storytimes.” Did I hear the uncertainty in Liam’s voice? Had I rattled him for once? “But not over the phone.”
“Okay, tell me where, and we’ll—”
“Only you.”
“Nope. This affects Gwen. She comes, and then you tell her to her face what a worthless prick you are.”
“No… Not…not Gwen. She can’t… Only you.”
I frowned but agreed. We needed answers. “Tell me where to find you.”
My eyes narrowed on the text on my phone, checking the address for the third time. I glanced at the gold 152 above the doorway, but there was no way through without muscling past the no-necked dude in a black suit.
He grinned a wide, gap-toothed smile. “Afternoon.”
“Uh, yeah… Hi ,” I said. “Is this…152?”
He nodded.
Okay, the address was correct, but… “What is this place?”
“This fine establishment is The Red Room.”
“The…Red…” I closed my eyes, braced my fist on my hip, and breathed through the anger twitching in every muscle of my body.
Liam had sent me to a goddamn strip club.
I dragged my hand down my face. He had to be kidding. I was a married man and in zero mood to see anyone’s boobs but my wife’s— ever . There was no way I was stepping one foot through that door.
Toby
This better be some sort of joke.
I’m not going in there.
The Prodigal Brother
Don’t be shy.
“That no-good son of…” I muttered, glaring at the bouncer when he wished me a pleasant afternoon as I passed.
The claustrophobic death trap of a stairwell would have been pitch black except for the pale red glow of one light overhead.
When I reached the top of the stairs, the music hit me first. Then, my panic.
I can’t do this. No way.
Heart racing, my breath stuck in my lungs, I turned around to jump back down the stairs when someone tapped me on the shoulder.
“Hey there, handsome.” A woman. I gulped, twisting away so I wouldn’t see anything. “Can I get you something to drink?”
No freaking way. “I’m just here to see the big, blond guy.”
“You and everyone else today.” She laughed. “This way.”
My eyes on my feet, I snagged a menu as we passed a table and used it to block the view.
I had no idea where I was in the club until I heard Liam’s silky laugh and saw a hundred-dollar bill thrust into the woman’s outstretched hand.
A chair was pulled out. That was for me.
Frowning, I sat down, finally brave enough to lower the menu and lift my gaze off my feet.
Liam sat across from me, and even though he wore a tailored black suit, he didn’t look as polished as usual.
His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked disheveled, blond hair falling over his forehead instead of slicked back.
When he reached for the glass in front of him, the skin over his knuckles was red and grazed like he’d been two rounds in a bar fight.
“Tough day at the office?” I joked.
His hand faltered. “You have no idea.”
“So, I guess the secret’s out. You’re a boobs guy. Is that why Gwen couldn’t come?”
Liam paused, the glass hovering at his lips. “She’s been here.”
“ Pardon .”
Liam’s smirk curled around the rim of the glass. “Very little business is done in an office.”
“Are you kidding me?” I was already launching out of the seat and across the table. “You made my wife come here?” I’d latched roughly on the collar of his white shirt when unknown hands yanked me back and shoved me down on the chair.
Liam didn’t blink. He didn’t even move. “No touching.” His expression remained blank as I shrugged off his goons. “My… friends …don’t like it.”
“You wish you had friends,” I grumbled, straightening my shirt and avoiding looking anywhere but at him. “If Gwen’s been here before, why couldn’t she come?”
Liam lifted his drink, jiggling the glass, amber liquid sloshing up the sides. “Our darling mother was an alcoholic. Gwen can’t see me. Not…not like…this.”
My gaze dropped to the table. Oh . That was strangely thoughtful. Was that why he hid upstairs at Cat’s, too? “Maybe you should drink less.” I shrugged. It seemed like a simple solution.
“We all have our coping mechanisms, Dr. Sullivan. I drink. Eli hides in his spreadsheets. You make jokes and play the fool. Sometimes, you seek validation from a woman other than your wife.” He smiled. “Just like your daddy.”
My jaw clenched so tight I could feel the tension pull down my neck. He was lucky those guys were behind me. I wanted to plant my fist in his face. I’d made terrible decisions, but I was nothing like my father.
“Do you like this place?” Liam asked, leaning back, waiting for my response. He didn’t get one. I just glared at him. “No? I think there’s a certain charm to it. An air of macabre capitalist desperation. Do you think that’s why your daddy bought it?”