Chapter 9
Marcus tried to retreat into language.
“You’re interpreting strategy emotionally.”
I almost laughed.
“So is that what you call it?”
“What?”
“Threatening to make my father mourn.”
He sighed.
“Powerful families consider unpleasant contingencies.”
My father finally spoke.
“Not anymore.”
Marcus looked at him.
Two old predators measuring each other.
I stepped between them.
“No.”
Both men looked at me.
The signet ring was still in my palm.
My hand hurt around it.
“This is mine.”
Sebastian’s expression softened by half a degree.
Marcus smiled.
“Then prove it.”
Interesting.
He wanted me emotional.
Impulsive.
Dependent on my father.
I understood.
He continued:
“You spent weeks scrubbing floors rather than confronting people.”
Preston laughed from behind him.
“Exactly.”
I turned.
He mistook attention for support.
Marcus said:
“A leader should know when humiliation stops being useful.”
I stared.
“You think I endured you?”
“No.”
“I endured them.”
I pointed at Preston and Victoria.
“To see who they were.”
Marcus raised an eyebrow.
“And now?”
“Now I see you too.”
He smiled.
“Dangerous words from someone who needed Daddy to walk through a door.”
Victoria laughed.
There.
They still thought my father had rescued me.
I looked at Sebastian.
Then removed the signet ring from my scraped hand.
Marcus smiled wider.
He thought I was giving it back.
Instead I placed it on my finger.
The room changed.
Not because of jewelry.
Because every Pembroke capo straightened.
I looked at Marcus.
“My father didn’t come because I called him.”
Silence.
“He came early.”
I glanced at the muddy bucket.
“You were simply unlucky.”
Marcus’s smile disappeared.
I continued.
“And Preston didn’t survive today because Sebastian stopped him.”
Preston frowned.
“He survived because I did.”
That landed.
I stepped toward him.
He looked away first.
Then Tiffany whispered:
“Catherine.”
“What?”
Her face had changed again.
Fear.
Not for herself.
For me.
“You need to see tomorrow’s seating plan.”
Victoria snapped:
“Enough!”
Tiffany ignored her.
“There is no wedding reception tomorrow.”
I stared.
“What is there?”
She swallowed.
“A command dinner.”
Marcus closed his eyes.
May you like
The Caldwells had never planned a wedding celebration.
They planned a takeover meeting disguised as one.
