Christ. Liam wouldn’t appreciate the comparison of his mom to Mrs. Cunningham.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
I shouldn’t look. I was in a meeting. An important meeting with people who were constantly evaluating whether I was up to this job. Especially Bas Huntington, who sat across the table, watching me like a vulture waiting for his next meal.
I still hadn’t gotten over the fact that even my father couldn’t keep Huntington out of the boardroom. Aside from the factthat the two men had been enemies for years (Dad had snaked one too many companies out from Huntington’s smaller private equity firm), there was also the consideration of just how Huntington had come to be here in the first place.
It wasn’t great when his son, obsessed with Brendan and everything he had, decided that the best way to take his revenge was to kidnap Brendan’s girl and hold her ransom. Even worse, when that very bad move had resulted in the untimely deaths of Ezra and his henchmen, though not before Brendan had signed over his personal shares to Ezra—which had then been inherited by his father as the next of kin.
I still had no idea if Huntington knew about Brendan’s hand in his son’s death, or if he suspected that I had anything to do with its cleanup. He’d attended every board meeting like a gargoyle, looming over everyone and taking silent notes. Still, the fact that he had opted to take the seat on the board over pursuing any further legal investigation told me, at very least, that the man was ice fucking cold.
And that should have scared everyone.
Fuck it.
I pulled out my phone, anyway.
Laney
Checking in. Finally done unpacking.
Her text was followed by a selfie of her sitting next to the closet space I’d designated for her things, a shy smile on her face, those green eyes as bright as new grass.
Fuck, I wanted to be there. I wanted to tackle her into that bed and keep her there for a week. Weren’t newlyweds supposed to get honeymoons? Time to adjust to married life, preferably naked, for at least a month or two?
What was the fun in getting married if I didn’t get any of the perks?
With a quick look around the table, I sent a reply.
We’re going to need a bigger closet.
It was only partly true. Neither of us were a clothes horse, but the Charlestown house was small. I kept another wardrobe at my “public” penthouse closer to the office, the one where I never slept but had been known to entertain the occasional guest, and where the family stylist delivered the monkey suits required of a Black.
Inwardly, I frowned. Yeah, I probably needed to set Laney up with Kate after Dad’s crack at her wardrobe. Dad was just being a dick, but he had a point, mostly about her lack of preparation for this life. I’d bought her some clothes, but who knew if she even liked any of them? While I personally liked the way she dressed, she was about to be under the microscope in a serious way, and wearing thrift store finds and her mother’s costume jewelry wasn’t going to do her any favors with the rags.
Another text came in.
Laney
How’s Shea?
I hid a snort and typed back.
As if she knew we were talking about her, Shea immediately rolled her eyes and mimed sticking a finger down her throat like she wanted to vomit. Apparently, she wasn’t quite as drunk as I’d thought last night, since this morning she was full of complaints about how loud Laney and I were.
I suppressed a smile but flipped her the bird as Liza continued on about market projections.
Shea’s hungover, but fine. My balls, on the other hand, are sky blue.
Laney
Poor baby. Perhaps we’ll pick up where we left off, husband.
Husband?
That was relatively new. She’d barely used the word, if at all. Me, I’d been calling her wife since I saw that ring on her finger, but it was mostly to rile her up, right? Come to think of it, I’d never really questioned why the designation rolled off the tongue so easily.
“Husband, indeed,” I murmured.