It's hell at the office. The merger goes on through our underlings, a lot of moving pieces tasked with forming one whole, blissfully ignorant about the ongoing hostility at the top of the pyramid.

I haven't heard from Corbin since the not-so-subtle threat on his yacht. What's weird is it's been almost two weeks since our run in with that prick sniffing around Bekah at the restaurant, but I haven't received so much as a text from daddy dearest.

He has to know I'm with Bekah. Has to know it's more than business. Has to know damned well I'm not giving her back without a fight.

Maybe he's reeling because he thought he'd gotten my balls on a silver platter, only to find out I'm spending my nights in bed with his own flesh and blood. The leverage would bring me wicked satisfaction under other circumstances, but this isn't like that.

This isn't chess, and she isn't some cold collateral.

She's the beginning and the end of me. An obsession when I wake, and when I close my eyes, even when she's tucked safely in my arms.

I haven't made much progress unraveling his ties to Fabius. Picking at it with legal and my VPs only does so much. Nothing definitive turns up.

My managers are starting to sense the nerves, the second guessing.

It's too late to go back, they remind me. Technically, they're right. But they're also dead wrong.

I remind them I built this company and our fortunes with my bare hands. I'm no one's fool. If we're getting fucked, even after I've signed over the keys to the castle, the Bastard Axe will swing.

Jake and Crowley flinch when I bring my fist down on my desk. It's more emotional than I want to let on, exposing how much this shit bothers me. Still, I don't mind reminding them they serve under a mad dog who won't be chained.

Not by Corbin.

Not by Fabius.

Not by my own mistakes.

Not by fucking anyone.

Having Bekah back, one wall away, helps sooth the restless beast inside me. I missed not having her around while she was out with the flu. Miracle I didn't catch it myself, sharing the same bed, bringing her whatever I could. This office makes me even more stir crazy when I can't step up to the glass with my coffee, look through it, and see her at my side.

Mine, even when she doesn't know I'm looking.

And sometimes, ever since our first fuck on my desk, she looks back, staring through my one-way window with a warm, nervous smile hanging on her little lips.

It's equal parts beautiful and unbearable. There's nothing I'd like better than to step out, grab her face with both hands, and bite down on her luscious lips in front of the whole office. It'd shut up the gossip mill pretty fast, dropping such a big piece of red meat down their gullets, they choke.

Work isn't my sole obligation either. Hayden and Luke are coming to town. It's for a massive charity fundraiser put on by Hayds, and it looks like he's decided to use it as an excuse for a family get together.

Not that I mind. Haven't seen them or their kids since the family barbecue months ago, shortly after I found out I'd unknowingly slept with my new intern.

God help me, I want to bring Bekah, too. I want them to know her. I want to show them I've got my shit together, and I can have a normal relationship with a woman, without an imminent disaster hanging over our heads.

If only the last part were true. Honestly, my situation is just as complicated as the rash insanity that consumed both my brothers when they claimed their wives, even if it isn't as serious yet.

There must be a Shaw curse because we're about to be three-for-three in that department.

At home, there's more waiting for me than an invitation to the charity ball. I find Bekah at the breakfast bar, where she's unwinding with her Kindle in one hand, and a cup of tea in the other.

I smile when I see what's on her screen. “Reading those gossip rags again? Who is it this time? King Silas and his fairy tale fantasies?”

“Ryan Caspian, actually,” she says, putting her hand over the screen, the little tease. “He's a billionaire, a lot like you, out in Michigan.”

“Heard the name,” I say, frowning because I'm not able to place it.

“He went through a lot for a second chance with his lady, Kara. Had to leave town after he killed a man. They're married and have kids now.”

I let out a low whistle, loosening my tie. Always feels incredible after a long day flogging Neolithic's billion dollar machine a little harder. “Killed a man? Hope there was a good reason. I'm surprised, moscato. Murder-mystery doesn't seem like your usual material. Can't remember the last time I didn't see you swallowing celebrity drama, or checking on your charity in Caracas.”

“Bogota!” she corrects, holding up a finger. “If you want to know the truth, I'm reading about Ryan and Kara because they're a good example of how screwed up things can get before they're set right. Since I'm sharing a bed with a billionaire and we've got big problems, I thought I'd better take a closer look at what I'm really getting into.”

“How about this?” I say, reaching into my pocket. I take her lips long and hard before I push the small piece of paper into her hands.

“A blank check?” her brow creases, confusion setting in.

“It's not blank. Just the amount. Look closer. There's a date, a signature, and a note in the memo line.”

“Whatever she can dream.” Bekah reads the words I scribbled there this morning, looking up, her eyes wide. “I don't get it?”

“It's yours, moscato. Pick an amount under eight figures, and write it in, whenever you want. If you want it to go to your charity, fine. Or your personal bank account, maybe. A handsome stipend so you can do what you really want. You want to go there, do what you need to help those people get their water, go right ahead.”

“What? But I'm here with you...”

I smile. She's so damned adorable when she's surprised, I want to rip that robe right off and carry her to bed. “Didn't say you had to decide today. This offer's good for awhile. My treat. Because you're not really free until we've taken the power away from your old man. This helps us do that, even if it isn't our final answer.”

“Grant...” She's touched. “You're sure about this?”

I take her in my arms, laying another kiss on her lips, before I speak. “This gives you control over your life. A clean slate. A nice chunk of change to start over, however much you need, in the limits I set. If you think a few million means anything to me, think again. Seeing you happy, loved, and free means more. So much more than those selfish jackoffs who held you back will ever understand.”

“It's too much,” she says, a lump visible in her throat. “I can't.”

I lay my hand on her cheek, tilt her chin up with my thumb, and wait until those green eyes are on me, deep and beautiful as the Maine forest. “It's late, is what it is. My only regret is not offering it sooner. It's proof you're a free woman, moscato. You're not my prisoner, or anyone else's. I'll fight my way to the ends of the universe to keep you safe, and you don't owe me a damned thing. I do it because...fuck, because I love you. Love you like I never thought I'd love any woman, and because I want to keep you on the only terms love should ever be: free.”

She jumps me. Didn't think she had it in her to kiss as hard as she does just then, tears streaming down her cheeks. Good thing I'm ready. I take her passion in my mouth and give it right back, running my hands up and down her beautiful body, knowing she's mine forever because I'm man enough to set her free.

“You weren't supposed to say it first,” she says, her voice shaking. “That was my job.”

Looks like she's holding something in, but I don't press her. Not when it's one of those moments you'd be a complete fool to sour.

“Say what?” I grin, pretending I don't already know.

“I love you, Mr. Shaw. Loved you first and I think I love you more. I. Love. You.”

That's a lot of lovin' for a man whose ears only used to prick up with pride when he heard Bastard Axe. Lucky I've evolved.

Don't think I'll ever hear any sweeter words, when they're coming from her lips, proof positive we're on the right track, and nothing will ever derail us.

* * *

“Damn, brother. Thought you'd never show, and I'd have to kick this thing off all on my lonesome.” I slap Hayden on the back.

“Whatever. Wrangling up kids is a full time job. We can't all run off to the woods whenever we'd like and chop firewood.” He stares back at me with the same eyes telling the world we're kin. Brothers, for better or worse, bound in Shaw blue.

“Think again, the rugged frontier life would do wonders for your little girl,” I say with a wink, dropping to my knees and holding out my arms as the toddler runs toward me. I sweep my niece up to my chest, bouncing her in the air as she laughs. “Hello, Abby! Been too long since you've seen Uncle Grant.”

She runs her little hands in my beard. She's such a sweet girl. I'm sure the cuteness is about to make my Bekah's ovaries explode as she stands next to me, an amused smile on her lips. I'm still bouncing the two year old in my arms when I walk past Hayds, approaching the striking redhead behind him.

“Penny, how's he treating you?” Grinning, I give her hand a squeeze. Like always, she shoves aside the handshake, throwing her arms around me instead.

“It's wonderful to see you! Hayden's an amazing father and even better husband. Must take after his big brother,” she says, flashing me a wink. “I mean, if the rich and famous bachelor, Grant Shaw, ever decides to live up to his full potential and settle down, of course.”

“Yeah, about that...” I hand Abby back to her, letting the tiny girl give my beard one more brisk tug. “There's someone I'd like you both to meet.” I move towards Bekah, putting my palm on the small of her back, easing her into my family's first impression.

“Hayds, Penny, this is my assistant, Rebekah –“

“Holy hell, bro! Where'd you hire the fox?” Another familiar voice stops me mid-sentence, crashing into Hayden from behind. Even at this charity ball, where the combined wealth in this room is quickly approaching a trillion dollars, Luke wears his bombardier jacket over his suit.

It's hard letting Hollywood fashion habits go, apparently. Hayden shoots him an annoyed look, and our youngest brother raises a cocky eyebrow.

“I was just about to get to her, Fly Right,” I growl, slapping the back of his neck not-so-playfully. “Where's Robbi and your little man, anyway? Might as well do an introduction with the whole family.”

“Oh my God,” Bekah whispers, leaning her lips to my ear. “You weren't kidding. It's really him.”

I laugh, all I can do not to roll my eyes. If she knew my brother, she wouldn't be so star struck by everybody's favorite new swoon from the big screen, the guy who's made the Shaw name synonymous with kinky billionaire.

There are worse fates, right? I try to tell myself there are.

“In the flesh,” I say, stepping past them as she shakes his hand, gushing over his last big erotic romance thriller, Bare. “How's my sister-in-law and my little architect?”

Robbi smiles, wearing her gold blonde hair a little shorter. It looks nice. “We're holding up. Just glad the studio let us get away for the weekend, but I told them I wouldn't miss this for the world.”

She passes me the kid, my baby nephew, one more little tiger who's inherited our ocean blue eyes. Last time I saw Zane, barely one year old now, he was laughing his way to an early nap after we knocked down a huge Jenga tower we'd built together. It was Christmas, little more than six months ago, a time when everything was so much simpler.

There's no time to make small talk. The second Bekah turns around, she's squealing again, running past me to shake Robbi's hand with a fury that makes me wonder if she'll take her arm off. “Robin Shaw! You were amazing. How did you get so brave to do half the things you did in the movie? I couldn't. Not in a million years!”

Robbi laughs, looking past her. I'm sure she's used to fans gushing all over her by now, especially the young and plucky ones like Bekah. Penny comes up next to her, and they share a look, before both their eyes fall on me.

“Grant? Is there something we should know?”

“Yeah, if I can get a break from these interruptions.” I sigh, waiting for my two younger brothers to stop screwing around and join us. They do a moment later, trotting over, putting away whatever inane argument had them so animated just seconds ago.

“Boys and girls, I'd like you to meet Rebekah Corbin, my new assistant and also my date for tonight.” That's right. I'm done hiding anything.

I don't care how my brothers raise their eyebrows as they give her a proper handshake and friendly, elusive grins. Care even less how much psychic gossip I can sense flying between Penny and Robbi, their glances between each other and back to me wondering if I've lost my mind.

They've been there before. All four of them. Both couples came out the other side of their drama happier, healthier, and better for it.

There's no goddamned reason I can't do the same.

“Let's get drinks!” Robbi says, tugging on my girl's arm. “We'll leave the boys a few minutes to catch up.” I'm just glad she wants to make my girl feel welcome.

“Bro, since when did you decide to rob the cradle?” Luke says, a thin smile pulling at his lips. “Is she even old enough to drink?”

“I don't know, thought I'd better give it some thought. More than you put in before you decided to shack up with our old family help.”

Anger stirs in his eyes. Once upon a time, Robbi was our family's hired maid. Their relationship got blown until years later, thanks to a wretched affair between our old man and her mom. Defensive as ever, my little brother stabs his finger into my chest, and I counter, grabbing his wrist.

“Shack up? I married her, Grant. Unless you're ready to show me a ring on that pretty young thing you've got hooked to your arm, you don't have the right to talk shit about my wife.”

Much as my ego wants to snap his arm like a twig, he's right. Robbi's too nice. She doesn't deserve shit talk. Hayds steps between us, pushing both our arms down, wearing a genteel smile for several wealthy old couples with champagne flutes in their hands passing by.

“Come on, guys, this isn't how we do charity. Let's not give the muckraker fuckwad journalists a scene to tweet about.” He ought to know better than anyone how that can blow up, after his fake marriage to Penny turned real. He's also always been the voice of reason, and it's as welcome as it is insufferable at times.

“Sorry, brother. I was out of line,” I tell Luke. “Still don't like you implying I went after her for the banging good looks, and nothing else. If she was worth nothing better than warming my bed, I wouldn't have brought her here tonight. Damned sure I wouldn't have brought her to meet my family.”

Luke's eyes go to the floor. Deep down, I know he regrets his words, but he's too proud to say it.

“It's not often we get together like this anymore,” Hayds reminds us. He stops a server carrying champagne on a silver tray as he walks past, placing drinks in both our hands, before he takes his. “Let's have a toast to the three musketeers for old time's sake, yeah? We'll conquer the world, brothers, as long as we don't turn on each other first.”

Fair point.

We clink glasses. Luke taps mine harder than he needs to, but I smile anyway. There's no time to be stung by his passive-aggressive bullshit.

The gangly gentleman we've brought in to be our keynote steps up to the stage, gripping the microphone. It's Charlie Cunninghare, a veteran from local self-help radio. He's a clear communicator and has the experience to know when to rile people up or put them to sleep, making him the perfect choice. “Ladies and gentleman, we'd like to get this rodeo going in the next twenty minutes. Please find your seats and have your checkbooks handy! All proceeds tonight benefit Healthy Mothers Global, the Helene Psychiatric Fund, and the Bogota Bridge Cooperative. These wonderful charities represent several good causes, from disease research, to mental health, to sanitation, each vetted and endorsed by our gracious hosts.” Charles finds us in the crowd and waves.

We smile, waving back. Family bullshit aside, my grin is real. We each picked a charity to spotlight tonight, ready to raise a nice haul for our pet causes.

Hayds and Luke walk with me over to the front row seats reserved for us. We sit, sipping our drinks, searching for our girls in the vast gaggle of corporate luminaries, celebs, and philanthropists we've sold into joining us tonight.

“What's Healthy Mothers doing these days, Hayds? Zeno's practically cured.” I give my brother a proud look. Good thing I'm not the jealous type, or I'd feel pretty small sitting next to the man who kickstarted the research to cure a virus threatening millions of motherhood dreams.

“We're moving onto the next big thing. Support and care for the mothers who need it. Zeno doesn't make life easy, even when it's cured. Penny never reached the burnout stage when she had it, thank God. A lot of others weren't so lucky. They'll need more science if they want to fix their reproductive systems, too ravaged by the virus to give them kids, even when it's no longer active in their blood.”

“You're doing them a solid,” Luke says, downing his champagne and waving the waiter over. He asks for something harder, a whiskey sour. I decide to go for one, too. “Wish I could say I'd thought up my cause without a lot of help from Ericka.”

“Shit.” Hayds and I say it in unison, shaking our heads. The crazy bitch almost sent our little brother to jail after she accused him of screwing up her face, a last desperate ploy to keep him away from her Robbi. They're on good terms now, and she's a happy grandma, but it's taken her a hell of a lot of therapy to get there.

“No, guys, it's not like that. Just wish I'd been more proactive. Less self-absorbed, fixated on my career, chasing my big break. Could've helped people like Ericka before her insanity ever caused us serious grief, if I'd thought to raise funds for mental health before. I'm never making the same mistake again.” I hold my glass out for him to tap it with his, and we both knock back our whiskeys. “Why water, bro? I know you've done a lot of fundraising over the years for different causes, more than me, but raking up money for water in Panama or wherever the fuck seems random.”

“Colombia” I correct him. “It's Bekah's project. She's to thank for turning me onto it. I shrugged it off, too, at first, but then I saw the pictures. Families going thirsty, or relying on poison water guaranteed to shorten their lives. Babies dying from diseases we can fix with hundred year old treatment and a few good treatment plants. There's no excuse. If I'm able to step up and make things better, I will.”

“Wow. Didn't know it was so serious,” he says, staring into his almost empty glass. “You're doing a lot of good, no doubt. But signing onto a charity you hardly knew shit about, her charity...it's serious, isn't it?”

Obviously. Does he think I'd be sitting here, counting down the seconds, waiting to see the smile lighting up her sweet face when she sees what I'm doing for her and the people she cares about, if I wasn't goddamned smitten?

“Love's a heavy thing,” I say, looking at them both as their eyes go wide. “Don't know how you boys do it, but you've set a good example. I'll be lucky if I'm able to make her half as happy as you've made your wives.”

Luke and Hayds turn to each other, sharing a look. I'm sure they're about to throw a whole lot more crap my way, double-checking my sanity, but they never get the chance.

The ladies take the empty seats between us, laughing as they pull away from each other.

“Everything good?” I ask Bekah, as soon as her hand is in mine.

“Amazing! Why didn't you tell me your sisters-in-law are hilarious?”

I just smile, happy she's telling me the truth. There's no need to pretend it's okay for my benefit.

It's a relief they didn't let the age gap or my surprise intro treat her any worse than she deserves. Not that I'd expect it from ladies as gracious as Penny and Robbi, but stranger things have happened when people get the wrong notions in their heads.

We lock hands. I eyeball the drink she's sipping, a beverage on ice in a tall glass, something they don't usually serve to preserve the classy, stick-up-the-ass atmosphere that comes mandatory when you're asking favors from people as rich as we are. “Long Island Iced Tea? No moscato?” I tease.

“Non-alcoholic, actually,” she says, her voice weirdly soft. “I wasn't feeling like a buzz today. Still shaking off the cold or whatever it was, I guess. Just walking around here in this thing is making me sweat like mad.”

She fans herself, adjusting her long red dress. I pull her hand up, laying a firm kiss on the back of it, a motion which sets off Penny and Robbi chattering quietly to themselves a few seats over. Little Abby giggles, and baby Zane joins her a second later. Almost like the kids can sense the secret intensity between us, and they're laughing for me as I try to hold it in. I'm only showing one hundredth of it to my family tonight.

“You're hot as hell, babe. Don't forget it.” I kiss her hand again, this time lingering.

“Hot mess, maybe,” she whispers, her cheeks catching the rosy red hue I love. “It's nice to meet your family, Grant. And thank you for making my charity yours tonight. Someday, I'll make it even.”

I give her my nicest, sexiest smile. Deep down, I'm laughing my ass off.

Someday? Is she joking? It's like she doesn't know what she does to me.

How can she be blind to the crazy spell she casts? The one that's got me planning everything, right down to the four kids I'll put in her, year after year, once I've given her a first class wedding she'll never forget. Now, if I'm just able to fix the intrigue with her asshole father first...

I look over at my brothers as the opening concert begins, four guys on their stringed instruments, serenading us with the classical, civilized crap mom used to love. Not so long ago, her death screwed up my youngest brother. I thought he'd never get it together, especially after he lost Robbi the first time.

There's a wicked irony in what's changing all around us.

Now, Luke would probably hook me up with the shrinks getting cash from his mental health fund if he knew what's on my brain. Hayds would go along with it, too, hoping to triple check me before I make a critical mistake.

They're jumping to the wrong conclusions.

Their eyes drift over while the music plays. Catch them staring at Bekah several times, muttering a few words to each other, trying to figure us out.

They're suspicious of my little moscato. I get it. Even if it pisses me off, I appreciate them trying to look out at me, but they don't really understand a damned thing.

This isn't about getting my dick wet in a woman almost half my age. That kind of sex comes easy without even buying it, as I used to do every time I went up to Chandlersport, and left old Mack chuckling to himself as he watched me round up another prize.

It's so much more than temporary pussy. More than an office tryst.

It's real.

I taste it on my tongue just looking at her, feel it in my veins, have to close my eyes from the heat warming my blood every time our fingers twine.

She's mine, damn it. Beautifully, fatefully, irrevocably mine. Letting her go becomes more unthinkable with every breath, every day we're together, every scorching kiss.

I've found my missing piece. Filled the dark hole in my life. It's more perfect than I ever imagined. So fucking perfect it's leapt up with jade green eyes, and slapped me across the face, leaving my ears ringing.

Or is it my heart that echoes? My soul? Everything telling me this delectable woman is what I've been waiting for?

I can't believe I'm thinking half the cheesy, flowery crap rolling through my head. But I am when I lean over, just before the auction begins, whispering in her ear.

“We need to get away this weekend. Celebrate the end of the summer. Think we ought to revisit a certain lodge up north, maybe catch up with my boy, Jack?”

“A getaway won't hurt. I've only got a few weeks left at Neolithic, anyway. Now's as good a time as any to do some thinking about what I want next.” Her smile tells me it's on. It also says she might have figured out I'm ready to give her the world, and all she has to do is ask.

No, but it's more than that, too. Maybe it's the soft white light from the stage, or the rare peace we've bought ourselves tonight. Maybe it's temporarily blinding me to the wolves I haven't scared off us yet, but God, how the hell could it be any other way? Her face looks more perfect than ever.

I can't wait to spill my biggest secret. Can't wait to see her more gorgeous than she looks tonight.

And she will be, when we're in Maine again, and I take her on my back porch. Her eyes will make the stars weep jealousy when I get down on my knee, show her the ring, and make our loving delirium official.

* * *

The next week burns through itself fast.

We spend the weekend catching up with my family, before they head back to Chicago and L.A. I think my brothers feel better before they head to the airport on Sunday after spending more time with Bekah. They see us arm in arm, stealing kisses while their women look on, happy and approving.

Penny pulls me aside at one point, her eyes drunk on joy. “You've found yourself a keeper. Tell me we'll be planning a wedding soon?”

I don't say anything, just crack a grin. She pats my cheek, ruffling my beard, but she knows. Good thing this woman's a safe choice for a secret.

Then Bekah keeps me company the next four days, pulling long hours in the office. We break more than once for quickies on my desk. At night, we talk over our trip, and I make sure the housekeepers in Maine have an ample heads up to get the place ready for us on Friday.

Nina lets her leave early that day to pack. I tell her I'll meet up with her in a couple hours, and we'll hop in the car for the long drive up the Atlantic coast. Should put us in by midnight, back in the place where our magic began, and where I'll work it again to make us a hundred times as happy.

No, I still haven't figured out how badly I'm fucked with the merger. It's happening at full speed, and I'll probably dismiss Bekah from her internship a week early to make sure we have enough desks for absorbing Corbin's people.

My boys and girls are already groaning about how much more cramped we'll be, taking on their technical specialists and traders, plus new HR hires, to help oversee the transition. I'll probably be looking at renting out another floor of the building by the end of the year, or else relocating entirely, perhaps to a bigger venue closer to Wall Street.

Normally, it's the kind of growth I like to oversee personally. But not while I'm walking on the landmine Corbin planted, without knowing where the damned thing is, or when it'll go off in my face.

Screw it. I tell myself I'll worry more after we come home, engaged, and we start figuring out a date to get hitched before Christmas. I don't want to wait.

I'm hoping the new development will knock some sense into Jeremiah Corbin's head. There's nothing he can do as my father-in-law except come clean, or else come straight for my throat. Either way, it draws him out, ending this stalemate we've had since he showed me his teeth on the yacht.

I get off the phone an hour later than I'd like, dismissing my team. We've been busy doing conference calls with a partner pharma who wants to do a whole lot more with the money we originally invested than they said up front. I'll need approval from the new jackasses who are supposed to be my partners to give them the nod, but I think it'll do us all good.

Everybody scatters like flies to leave for the weekend. By the time I take a quick break to grab some water before I head out, there's nobody left in the office except Nina, who stops me as she's picking up her purse.

“You have a visitor, Mr. Shaw. Would you like me to stay awhile longer in case it's urgent?”

“Who?” I ask, stopping in my tracks.

“Mr. Corbin. He said there's business he'd like to discuss personally, so I let him into your office. Told him you'd be by in a couple minutes.”

“Shit!” Nina does a double take as the expletive drops like a bomb in the lobby. I run my palm over my face, knowing if chief dick himself is here, it can't be good. “Go home. No point in bogging you down. If anything comes up I can't handle myself, I'll call, but I'm confident it won't.”

“Good luck!” She gives me an awkward grin and runs for the elevator.

Who the hell can blame her? I toss my cup in the silver waste bin and bring my fists to my sides, heading for my office, ready to get whatever the hell is waiting for me on the other side over and done.

I rip the door open. Corbin stands, stiff as a board, his charcoal suit smooth against his silver tie, a perfect match for his salt and pepper hair. Sleek as the devil himself.

Behind us, there's a stern looking, tight lipped bull jammed into a suit standing against the wall. A personal bodyguard, who's tagged along to put me in my place if I try anything stupid against his boss, no doubt.

I wonder for the thousandth time just who the fuck he thinks he is? Nobody brings a strong arm into his business partner's office, even when they're on as rotten terms as we are.

And yet, he just did.

“Why are you here?” I walk toward him, hoping I'm able to hear the next lies out of his mouth over my heartbeat roaring in my ears.

Forget polite. There's nothing worth holding back anymore. This isn't an ordinary partnership built on trust, and he damned well knows it.

“Certain reactions are too priceless not to see with my own eyes, Shaw. I'm very interested to know what you think of this.” He slams a folder down on my desk, plopping into the seat across from me.

Clenching my teeth, I take my chair, and pull out the two white pages. My eyes flick over the words, each more unbelievable than the last, turning my blood to molten steel in record time. “This has to be a fucking joke. You can't get away with this!”

The papers go flying. I shove them off my desk, onto the floor. He watches, a wry smile on his face, as they crash near his feet. Reaching down, he takes his sweet time picking them up, and then lays them gently on my desk again.

I have a cruel urge to find out if it's possible to decapitate a man with the world's worst paper cut. It might even be worth the broken bones I'm sure to get from his hired fist, if I so much as lay a finger on him.

“It's as much a joke as your legal team,” Corbin snaps. “You should've had them picking over the fine print, rather than sending them after Fabius' dirt like headless chickens. Perhaps they'd have noticed the disparity in our share structure sooner, and made sure you didn't lose your 50.1% majority on a technicality because you'd failed to sign off on the last bonds to Fabius in a timely manner as agreed.”

No share majority, no serious voting rights. I'm fucked.

“Leave,” I growl, flexing my fists on the desk. “You've made your move, and I'll counter it in court. There's nothing else to say face-to-face like civilized men when you're trying to steal what's mine out from under me.”

“Unpleasant, no? I think you know a thing or two about it, you wretched thief. There's a benefit to keeping my daughter on the same phone plan. A well placed bribe or two tells me exactly where she's been.”

“Nice to know you found out like a sneaky bastard, and not from the Parisian asshole whose nose I wrecked weeks ago.”

His wicked smile disappears. “Count your lucky stars. You're fortunate Ethan didn't press charges. I assured him it would be a foolish move, and we'd find better ways to get even in the end. No, no, don't thank me now,” he says, holding up a hand. “You haven't seen how big a favor I'm doing you, Shaw. How enormous a break I'm cutting us both.”

“Fuck you, and your favors.” I point my finger at him, doing my damnedest to keep the rage erupting inside me from causing me to tremble. “I'm asking her to marry me this weekend. There's nothing you can do. Go ahead, dismember my company from the inside like the parasite you are. Give the Feds the biggest financial bust in history, whenever they're able to find the Fabius dirt I can't. I'll be there to testify against you. None of it matters. As long as I have Bekah, I've won. Everything else is expendable.”

For the first time since we sat down, I see anger wrinkling his brow. “I thought you'd react this way. So predictable, Shaw. Won't you at least make a run for me? Try to break my jaw, or something? I'd love to watch Cade dole out some justice for poor Ethan's nose, demolishing your good looks so bad my little girl never looks at you with bedroom eyes again.”

“I'm not your pawn. I'm done here, asshole. Show yourself out, and wait for your wedding invitation in the mail,” I tell him, each word slurring with more hate than the last.

I'm serious about this being over. I have to get the hell out of here before I do something monumentally stupid, like throwing this fuck through the window, and letting him find his justice on the busy New York pavement below.

“No, don't bother. After tonight, you'll never see her again.”

I'm halfway to the door when the wolf says the only combination of words forcing me to give him a minute more of my time.

“What?” It flies out like a curse, and I stare his smug ass down, re-thinking whether or not violence will really make this worse.

“She's learning the truth right now. In, oh, about five minutes, give or take,” he says, glancing at his expensive gold watch. “I planned this perfectly, you see. There's no one to blame except you, Shaw. When we first lined up to do this partnership, I decided to do my homework very thoroughly, as I do with anyone I decide to get in bed with. You'd be surprised how much a person winds up on cameras these days. How easy it is to catch them at their worst with the right bribe in the right place, or remind the wrong people how absolutely fucked they are if they cross me. Like your bartender friend up in Maine. He folded, turned over everything he had on security tape. Years' worth.”

Jesus.

Fuck.

Not Mack, too. I contemplate covering my ears, shutting out his heinous voice before I get myself killed trying to silence him forever.

But the demon moves his lips again, and I'm paralyzed, hearing every dagger word. “Cade said he practically smelled the shit rolling down his leg when he told him how easy it'd be for me to buy out the town cemetery, and throw his dead wife's remains anywhere I damned well please. Isn't that right, Cade?”

“Yes, sir.” The bodyguard nods.

I see it out the corner of my eye. It's the final straw.

I'm lunging, screaming like a lion, bowling the soulless, manipulative prick over. He goes down like the empty suit he is, calling for his help.

My fist goes up, ready to do as much damage as I can in one punch. Too bad the bastard he's hired knows what he's doing.

He catches my hand, twisting it back with a sickening crunch.

Pain hits my brain like an atomic bomb. My hand is torn or broke, completely fucked up, but it's not half as bad as the sinking, helpless feeling settling in.

I grunt once, trying to move. Corbin scuttles out from under me, wiping his trousers. His smirk returns in record time as his bruiser pins me down, crushing the air out of my lungs, until I can't even curse him.

He puts his hands on his knees, leans down, and pats my cheek. “There, there, little axe. Hurts to be blunted, doesn't it? You're lucky I don't completely break you. Face it, you've been outsmarted. Time to take your losses like a man. Move on. Forget her. I'll still let you run the little things at Neolithic, if you're smart, if you swallow your pride, and manage to avoid a prison cell. Don't try to find my Rebekah, or me. If you do, she'll be certain to spit in your face, after she sees the awful truth tonight. Remember, you brought this on yourself.”

He steps on my shattered wrist, grinding his shoe over knuckles that feel like they've been turned into pebbles.

I can't hold on. Bekah, please, I fucking can't.

I'm screaming internally for about ten seconds longer. Then there's just blackness.