Chapter 1
ONE
COLSON
TWO MONTHS LATER
“Colson, you’re walking straight into enemy territory. I need you to be extremely careful.”
As my sister’s voice came through the speakers of my SUV, I pushed my head against the cushion behind me and took a long drink of my to-go coffee, wishing it were something much stronger.
Something clear with a few rocks of ice, a lime wedge, and a lethal bite.
This was going to be a long fucking day.
“Eden, I’m going to the Daltons’ law office. I wouldn’t call that enemy territory.”
My sister wasn’t dramatic; if anything, she was the rawest and most realistic member of our family. But her warning wasn’t in reference to our attorneys; it was about who I was meeting at their office, which was the Gordon family.
Our biggest competitor, rivals, and antagonists, and we were about to go head-to-head.
Still, I wouldn’t show any verbal concern. My calm nature was the reason I was in this vehicle right now and not any of my other siblings.
“We all know what she meant,” Hart, my younger brother, pointed out.
His voice was sterner than Eden’s as it echoed from the speakers inside my vehicle.
Most of my family was at our corporate office, where I envisioned them sitting at the conference room table, anticipating the result of today’s dispute.
“And she’s right, you’re heading into the lion’s den. ”
This meeting had been initiated several weeks ago by the Gordons—an attempt to mediate their frustration before they sued us, which they had threatened to do.
We had picked the location, and our attorneys—Jenner Dalton and Troy Wolf of The Dalton Group—didn’t think all the Westons should be present.
With the five of us siblings against the two Gordons, an argument was bound to take place.
There were too many personalities—none as chill as mine; therefore, nothing would get accomplished.
But with a situation as contentious as this one, I wondered if I should be wearing armor.
“It’s going to be fine.” I twisted my neck, adding the smallest bit of space between my skin and the shirt and tie that hugged it, wanting nothing more than to rip both off.
“Why are you so confident?” Walker asked. “They’re threatening to destroy us, Colson. Do you know what that makes me want to do to them? Set the motherfuckers on fire.”
Paul was taking a left turn at the light, and as I swallowed, I stopped myself from shifting in the seat.
“We have the best attorneys representing us. You have no reason to worry.”
“Fuck that,” Beck, the second youngest in our family, groaned. “We have every reason to worry. This is bullshit. We’re both restaurant owners in the same space, serving the same food. Of course we’re going to have similarities.”
Beck was the star left wing for the LA Whales. Hockey came first, and The Weston Group came second, as it should. I was surprised, at this hour, he was able to conference in and didn’t have to meet his teammates for a workout.
“Do us a favor, call the second you leave the Daltons’,” Beck requested. “Don’t wait until you get back to the office to call.”
“You won’t be at practice?” I asked.
“I’m hoping the meeting won’t take more than an hour. If that’s the case, no, I won’t be at practice,” Beck replied.
“You’ll hear from me the second I get into the car.” Paul pulled up to the front of the Daltons’ law office and parked along the curb. “Any last-minute requests? I’ve just arrived.”
“You need to obliterate them,” Walker announced.
“Obliterate may be a bit extreme,” Eden countered. “Just … make this go away.”
I chuckled. “Do I need to remind you that they have every reason to despise us?”
“No, you don’t need to remind us. We know what we did to piss them off,” Hart voiced. “But you need to remind them we’ve been in the industry much longer. We have the upper hand.”
“I’d like to put them in goal without any equipment on and practice my slap shot.” Beck didn’t get angry often, but the Gordons tested his patience.
“The older brother, Larry—I’d like the puck to wipe that smug look off his goddamn face.” Walker’s anger matched Beck’s.
They would continue this for hours if I let them. So, I said, “You’ll hear from me soon,” and I ended the call.
I then mentioned to Paul, “I don’t know how long this’ll take.”
“I’ll be here.” He looked at me in the rearview mirror. “Or at the police station—wherever you end up after Operation Obliterate.”
The little I could see told me he was smiling.
“You’re a good wingman, Paul.”
I got out of the back seat and went inside the building, stopping at the receptionist’s desk.
“They’re waiting for you upstairs, Mr. Weston.” She stood and led me to an elevator that wasn’t within the main bank; this was private, solely for the executive-level floor. “Another receptionist will greet you at the top.”
I thanked her before the door closed, leaning against the wall as the lift climbed over twenty floors high, and once it came to a stop, another woman was waiting for me, just like the first one had mentioned.
“Mr. Weston, please come with me.” This receptionist turned after her greeting. She brought me through a locked door and down a hallway, halting near the end in front of an open entryway. “Can I get you anything?”
“I’m good. Thank you.”
“Let me know if that changes.”
As I entered the room, Jenner and Troy were sitting beside each other at the end of the table.
“Gentlemen.” When I approached, I reached my hand toward Troy since he was the farthest away, leaning a bit to reach him. “Nice to see you.”
“Good to see you.” Troy stood to shake my hand, looking extra sharp in his navy suit.
Jenner’s slicked, gelled locks didn’t move as he rose to greet me. “Are you ready for this, buddy?” He gripped me next.
“As ready as I can be.”
We took our seats.
Troy immediately said, “Before they get here, I want to give you a heads-up. I happen to know the Gordons’ attorney.
We’re good friends—we actually grew up together in Fort Lauderdale—so there’s a small conflict of interest.” His blue stare was fixed on mine.
“It’s never been an issue prior—we’ve kept business separate, you know I’m the epitome of professionalism—but now that we’re facing a possible lawsuit, that’s where things could get a little challenging.
I’m not saying I’m stepping away or that I’d back down.
I just want you to be aware of the circumstances. ”
In all the years we’d been in business, aside from the obvious competitiveness between our family and the Gordons, there was one single occurrence where our brands had crossed.
Horned, one of our newly acquired restaurants, was that catalyst and the reason the Gordons currently loathed us.
Considering that was the only situation where Troy had to battle against the Gordons’ attorney, I believed the two could keep things separate.
But I still had to ask, “Their attorney has never pressed you for insider knowledge? Where we’re building? Or our upcoming plans?”
“It would be extremely unethical and against every attorney’s oath to do such a thing.” He crossed his hands on top of the table, his blue eyes never leaving mine. “Same is true on their side. You, as a brand and company, are never discussed—and neither are the Gordons.”
I nodded. “Good.” I glanced at Jenner. “If things get murky and Troy has to step away for a personal reason, do you have an issue handling this matter on your own?”
Jenner tilted his head. “Issues are my specialty.”
“Excellent.” I breathed a sigh of relief.
Jenner’s phone dinged, and he read the screen. “They’re here.”
I checked my watch. “They’re punctual.”
Jenner chuckled. “That tends to happen when the plaintiff is as pissed off as the Gordons.”
Similar to us, the Gordons had started with steak houses.
Where we branched off into seafood and raw bars and clubs, they dabbled in Italian cuisine.
We grew faster, scaling our locations and clubs across the country and globe.
Domestically, whenever we opened a Charred—our world-renowned steak house—the Gordons popped up in the same area.
But we coexisted in those spaces because we specifically chose spots where the demographics could handle two competing steak houses.
Until Horned.
A restaurant we stole from beneath them.
It had been new on the scene, and when we got word that it was rising in popularity, food critics raving about their quality and uniqueness, my family and I purchased it.
We did that, knowing the Gordons were financially invested in the restaurant and had all intentions of buying the business from its chef.
The chef had every right to sell it to us, and we wasted no time adding it to our portfolio, immediately starting to scale the concept in test markets across the country.
That was the deal Troy had negotiated.
That was what had really set things ablaze between the families.
And that was the reason we were here today. The Gordons were not pleased about this sale.
My eyes narrowed as I looked at our legal team. “We will win this, won’t we?”
“We’ll do everything we can.” Jenner adjusted his cuff links.
Troy nodded in agreement.
As I took a deep breath, the Gordon brothers walked into the conference room.
I’d met them a couple of times at different events in LA.
They were in their mid-thirties, married, with a handful of kids between them.
But as they each took a seat across from me—jeopardizing my livelihood, my daughter’s, and the rest of my family’s—I didn’t see them as hardworking entrepreneurs.
They were fucking enemies. And what stared back was a gaze I knew well—it was one that Walker wore more often than not.
These bastards were ready to fight.
A third person entered the conference room. I didn’t have to look at the doorway; I smelled her the moment she came in. In a space full of cologne, perfume really made a presence.
My stare gradually left my opponents’ and focused on the woman as she took a seat beside Larry. Long, light hair framed her gorgeous face with eyes so blue that they made my dick ache. There was a smear of freckles across the bridge of her nose, which sat above pouty, heart-shaped lips.
Fuck, she was ravishing. In a way that most women dreamed of being, but her beauty came naturally.
Jenner began the introductions. They weren’t needed; I was well aware of the Gordons’ first names, the same way they knew mine.
Troy then took over to present the counsel, starting with himself and moving to Jenner before saying, “This is Sophie Rivers. She represents the Gordon family.”
So, that’s her fucking name.
“Sophie Rivers.”
Although my voice was quiet, I was sure she’d heard me, considering her eyes hadn’t left me from the second she walked into the conference room.
Mine had only moved to dip down her familiar body.
A suit covered her, but I intimately knew every inch of skin beneath.
She had the most beautiful tits with nipples that had hardened when my tongue grazed them.
They’d puckered when I sucked them into my mouth.
They’d risen to the highest peaks when I bit them.
And that fucking pussy … I would never forget it. One I hadn’t just fingered and tasted, but thrust into for hours, her screams accelerating with every orgasm I gave her.
Jesus Christ, I could feel my hard-on throbbing, just thinking about it.
“Gentlemen,” she said, pushing her hair back, a snag to her lips that told me the recognition was two-sided, “let’s get down to business.”
When I ran into other members outside the walls of Lush, for those I’d been with physically, there was always a bit of awkwardness. But never had one of those encounters come with a spark that took over my entire fucking body, as it did now.
They never made me hard.
And they certainly never triggered a desire for me to toss the woman over my shoulder, take her to the nearest vacant room, and shred the clothes from her body.
Everything I wanted to do to Sophie Rivers—and nothing I could ever do again.
As she glared at me from across the table, what I saw in my head, what I recalled as I looked at her, were the hours I had spent between her legs.
A wild, tangled threesome—that was how I would describe that night.
But out of the two women, there was only one I wanted.
One who had instantly caught my eye at the bar.
One who had gotten much more of me than the other.
That evening, she had been the blonde in the red dress, and here, she represented my nemesis, who was trying to destroy my family.