“Mr. Grey?”Grey took one look at the man and knew he’d interrupted something.“I’m sorry to bother you, but I’ve come to return the money you lent me.”He lifted the briefcase and extended it toward the mussed-looking older man.Grey caught the whiff of cigar smoke and booze and felt relief to be rid of him.
“She wouldn’t take it?”The man said, a smile creeping across his face.Grey was uncomfortable with the sheen around the man’s lips and chin.He winced and tried not to imagine too specifically what that shine might have come from.
“No sir.”He answered simply.“Thank you.”He felt like a heel.“Really.Thank you for the help.”He was grateful, even though the gratitude made him feel slimy.Even though the fact that this son of a bitch was ready to step in when Jonah refused made Grey boil and rage.He hated Jonah for leaving him no option but to crawl to this miserable fuck.
“So what now, son?” Said the man, reaching over lazily and unburdening Grey of the case.
Grey blinked.“Now I go to city hall.”He responded blandly.
Vaughan’s eyebrows lifted.“You sure about this?There must be another way—“
“Thank you again for the loan sir.”Grey said repressively.“If you’ll excuse me, I’m in something of a rush.”He nodded politely and turned to go.
“Son—“
Grey seized up, his foot already planted on the next step down, and he turned slowly.He hated when the man called him that.“Mr. Grey?”He answered evenly.
“Why don’t you take this anyway—as a wedding present.”The older man held out the briefcase, offering it back up.
Grey squinted at the offering.“Thank you, but I’m afraid I can’t accept.That’s… far too generous.”The older man and the younger stared at one another for a long moment.A slow chuckle sounded from Vaughan Grey and Grey felt the hair on the back of his arms raise underneath his coat and shirt.
“You come see me.”The man said, chuckling.“You bring me whatever contract she has you sign and we’ll just see what we can do.”
Grey felt his nose twitch.He never wanted to see the man again, had no desire to seek out his aid for any reason.“Of course.”He responded smoothly, revulsed by the man’s swaggering grin and his loose silk robe and his leathery old face with the glistening evidence of foreplay all over his lips and chin.“I won’t to keep you.”Grey said with a humorless smirk, and, with yet another courteous little nod, he turned once more and left that place.He heard the man laugh heartily behind him, heard the door close, and only then did Grey draw his next breath.
It was beginning to rain.He needed to go pick up the girl he was going to marry.
“Grey I’m just not sure I can make a legal document with those exact specifications.” Ward Everett was not the Everett of Everett, Estabrook & Eisen;but Ward Everett was Eloise Everett’s eldest son and a damn fine lawyer in his own right despite being one of the youngest the firm had on staff.He’d competed for the position with some spectacular candidates and had been assured he hadn’t won the spot on account of his mother running the place.He couldn’t be sure of that, but he conducted himself as though he had earned his place and continued to earn it daily.
His client, his richest client, was Grey Delaney; a kid he’d grown up around and whose best friend was Ward’s younger brother Phelan.Grey Delaney was a good get as a client.He had no illusions about how he’d won him as a client—he was a friend of the family and Grey counted on Ward’s absolute discretion.
When Delaney was starting college Ward had just finished law school and passed the bar.Grey approached him, said something about wanting his ‘own’ lawyer and not one affiliated with his parents or the Calder brand.Ward had agreed.It was a nice arrangement.He liked Grey well enough.Didn’t trust him much, but, then, he didn’t have to.What mattered was that Grey trusted him.
“What’s the problem?”Grey helped himself to a faceted tumbler and some ice from Ward’s modest sideboard.Ward didn’t drink much, but all the offices at Everett, Estabrook & Eisen boasted classy little sideboards, built-in wet bars and sleek, expensive furnishings.
“Well to begin with a prenuptial agreement is prohibited from addressing custody issues—“
“There’s no custody issue.”Grey replied, spinning a bottle of a blended whiskey contemplatively.
Ward leaned forward in his seat and re-examined the hand written bullet list scrawled on yellow lined paper.“Ok, not specifically, but I gotta be honest, a lot of this revolves around a child and that’s a murky area.”
Grey looked over at him sharply.“Why?”
“Anything regarding a child has to be decided in the child’s best interests.”He replied, staring thoughtfully at the original art piece he’d recently purchased from the new gallery downtown.It had cost a lot of money.He wasn’t sure he liked it as much in here as he had in the gallery.
Grey snorted.“There’s nothing not in the child’s best interest there.”He said sourly.“Kid’s going to be a fucking millionare before he starts kindergarten.” He pushed the blend away dismissively.
“Well strictly speaking these things aren’t meant to address offspring really.”He rubbed his brow and re-read the bullet list for what felt like the eightieth time.“I mean, I suppose it doesn’t directly address custody in the event of divorce…”He thought he might be able to structure it carefully enough to sidestep the rules but remain within the bounds of the law.“And this, this seven years thing?” he gestured to an item on the page before him.
“What about it?” Asked Grey levelly.
“Well I suppose I could build in a sunset clause but I have to say it’s highly unusual to, well, to put a definite end date on a marriage.” What the hell had his client gotten himself into?
“Well build-in whatever you have to.” Said Grey conclusively and turned back to the liquor.
“I have a nice gin.”Ward offered.He didn’t really know that from firsthand experience, not caring for the taste of gin, but he’d been informed of such by almost every client that had perused the sideboard.
Grey directed his attention to the gin and sighed.“That is good gin.” He conceded but didn’t reach for it.“Christmas present?”He asked, reaching for the single-malt.
“Birthday.”Ward answered.“You’ve already put ice in the glass—“ he said warningly.
“Fuck.”Grey responded mildly.“Gin then.”He replaced the single malt and reached for the gin.Ward wondered at the logic; Why not simply grab a fresh tumbler, or dump the ice?Outwardly Grey appeared casual, confident and collected.But something was definitely amiss.
“I have to ask whether or not you’re being coerced.”Ward said, standing and moving toward the wet bar.He opened the artfully concealed minifridge and withdrew a small bottle of tonic for Grey and a bottle of water for himself.
“No lime?”Grey asked as he unscrewed the top of the tonic water.
“It’s not exactly gin-and-tonic season.” Ward answered with a smile.
“Then why the fuck are you pushing the goddamn Gin?” Grey asked with an almost-smile.
“I’m not the one who put ice in the glass my friend.” Ward moved to sit on the long slim-line couch and took a drink from his water bottle.
“I wanted a scotch on the rocks but I can’t drink that shit you have, and you’re right, that single malt has to be neat.”Grey stirred the contents of his glass with his middle finger and sat down on the sideboard, his long legs stretched out casually before him.He removed his finger and sucked it before flicking excess moisture off it and lifting the glass for a sip.
“How is it?”Ward asked, smirking.
“Needs a lime.”Grey responded and set the glass on the sideboard beside him.Ward’s lips pressed together.There were chairs, plenty of fine chairs, and Grey Delaney chose to seat himself on the $15,000.00 mid-century modern sideboard.There were designer beverage coasters a mere six inches from his hand but Grey Delaney opted to place his sweating tumbler directly on the unprotected surface of said sideboard.
“I have to ask it.” Ward sighed.“Because this deal is a lot nicer for the lady than it is for you my friend.”Ward took another swig of his spring water.“It almost borders on unconscionable.”
Grey pulled his features into something like a wolfish smile.“Do I look like I’m being coerced?”
Ward entertained the notion.His client appeared at ease, very much his arrogant self.But something just didn’t feel quite right.
“I can draw up a pre-marital contract that follows those instructions pretty close to the letter if that’s what you really want—“
“It is.”Said Grey solemnly.
Ward shook his head and made a clicking sound with his tongue.“Well Grey either you love this girl very much or she’s blackmailing you.” Grey kept his eyes of his shoes.“I don’t know the girl, but I do know you and I’m guessing you haven’t been struck by cupid’s arrow.”
Grey chuckled and took another sip of his gin drink.“Maybe I’m just a really generous fellow.”He said and smiled at his shoes.
Ward leaned back on the couch, extended both his arms out over the low back of it and put his feet up on the coffee table.“I’ll see what I can do for you.” He said with a wry twist in his voice.“The amount of money you’re going to be putting into college educations here, we ought to establish a scholarship fund in your name or something.”
Grey ran a hand through his hair and finished the gin & tonic with one long swallow.“You do whatever you have to do Everett—“ Grey told Ward casually.“Just have it done tonight and tell me where to sign.”He walked his glass over to the wet bar and set it down on the counter.
Ward blinked.“Tonight?”it was already almost two in the afternoon.
Grey nodded firmly.“Yeah I’m under a bit of a time crunch.”
“Grey this isn’t exactly boiler-plate stuff here—“
“I need it ready tonight.” Grey reiterated a little coldly.“We’re meeting with the lady and her—attorney—to go over the fine print.”
“Christ, Grey!”Ward sat up, taking his feet off the coffee table and screwing the cap back on his water bottle.“I have plans this evening.”
Grey fixed him with a frosty glare.“I’ll pay you triple whatever you’d usually get for this type of service.”
It wasn’t about the money it was about the principle of the thing.He wasn’t Grey Delaney’s servant for Christ’s sake.But Ward simply nodded in acquiescence.He’d have to cancel another dinner with Gideon.Damn.This would be the third cancellation in the span of two weeks.He doubted Gideon could be persuaded to wait for him at his condo, maybe have a very late dinner, maybe spend the evening in the hot tub.He’d try.
He felt like punching the arrogant sonofabitch, kick him for throwing a wrench in his plans.“What time are we meeting them?”He asked stoically.“And where?”
“Eight.” Replied Grey, “Here.”
Ward bit back the expletive that had leapt to his tongue.“I’m going to bill a lot of overtime hours.” He said, rising and making his way back to his desk.
“Naturally.”Said Grey, and even though Ward was too angry to look he could tell the miserable son of a bitch was grinning.
“You’re a pain in the ass.”Ward said, sinking into his desk chair and pulling himself toward the damned yellow-lined piece of paper.
Grey started for the door with a chuckle.“See you at eight.”He said as he pulled on the handle.
Ward couldn’t even manage a polite smile.He nodded and kept his mouth shut.
Grey stood half out of the office and then leaned back in, a smirk pulling his mouth to one side.“Aren’t you going to congratulate me?”
Ward stared for a moment.“No.”He said, shifting his gaze dismissively toward his computer screen and pulling his keyboard into a more comfortable position.
Maggie Ramirez stared at the briefcase between them.It wasn’t open; it didn’t have to be.He’d told her what was inside and she took him at his word.It sat there, sleek and dark and sinister.A life for a lifetime of security.Her saliva tasted bitter as it pooled around her stubbornly still tongue.
He was patient.He could afford to be; he was certain that this would fix everything.He was confident that this would absolve him of further responsibility, excuse him from any further involvement.To his credit, she thought, at least he appeared solemn.If he’d come with a smirk, if he’d placed this briefcase down with even the barest hint of smug satisfaction…
But something about his quiet, business-like demeanor wrenched at her heart and prickled at her conscience.She missed the old Grey Delaney.Missed his smile.His wide, pale eyes when they’d transfix her.Missed his voice when it would get low and intimate and personal.Missed being pulled in close to his warmth, tucked in safe against his strong body.
Maggie Ramirez missed a thing that wasn’t real.Had never been real.
She blinked at the briefcase.And she pulverized her ridiculous longing into cowering subservience.What they’d had was a lie.What he’d been was a fraud.What she’d been was a naïve fool.And now there were pressing concerns to be dealt with.
“No.”She said, surprised at how cool and calm she sounded.Her heart was fluttering and her chest felt tight.She lifted her eyes from the loathsome case.She couldn’t look at the insidious temptation a moment longer.
She watched his lips tighten marginally.
“No.”He repeated softly.
“No thank you.”She corrected automatically.
His brows contracted and those pale green eyes flashed, but otherwise his face remained impassive.“This is a very large sum—“He offered, as if they were in a contract negotiation.
“I can count.”Maggie’s voice was calm, but something in her tone snapped and sizzled.
He blinked a few times, rapidly.“Would you like me to translate it into pesos for you, Piruja?”His voice was low, but the words stung like the sudden lash of a whip.
Maggie’s mouth fell open at the slur, and her eyes welled and burned.His jaw was set and his lips were pursed.
“I shouldn’t have—“He began tightly.
She snapped her mouth shut and swallowed.She blinked the welling tears back.And she let a hot, boiling, self-righteous indignation wash over her from head to toe.“No.”She said boldly, crossing her arms across her chest and sitting back against the vinyl of the diner booth.“You shouldn’t have.”She affirmed.He opened his mouth to speak but she kept going.“You shouldn’t have lied, you shouldn’t have used me, you shouldn’t have called me a whore, and treated me like one, and you shouldn’t have tried to buy my silence.”She hissed, her cheeks hot, her breath thin and shallow.“And you certainly shouldn’t have gone without protection, you filthy, you disgusting, you—“
“How much more would it take?”He interrupted her icily.
He seemed to sense her sudden shift in demeanor, and he sat forward in the vinyl booth, moving in for the kill in her moment of hesitation.He leaned across the linoleum table, and made himself all earnestness and concern.
“I can’t give you what you want, Maggie; but I can give you what you need.”He urged.“Let me help you; let me take care of you.”He sounded so achingly kind and sincere.He sounded like the man she’d loved.“There’s enough here for you to go somewhere, start a new life.You can keep—“ He stopped for a moment, took a breath, shifted his weight just fractionally and pushed on.“Whatever decision you make with regards to your body, you will be well provided for here.”He impressed.“There are options available to you with this.”He indicated the voiceless black briefcase.
Her stomach felt like lead and time seemed to slow down for a moment.Slowly, very slowly, she brought her wide brown eyes around to stare into his pale green gaze.“I won’t be bought-off.”She said quietly but clearly.
A muscle twitched near his left eye.She looked at the face that had been so beautiful to her and she felt a shiver drip down between her shoulder blades at the sight of his barely-controlled frustration, his precariously leashed rage.She was glad she’d insisted on a public venue.He’d never given her cause to fear him before, but sitting there in the diner, with the buffer of a briefcase on a bolted-down table, she said a quick but earnest prayer of thanks that she’d insisted upon a public venue.
She wondered what damage those large hands might have done to her if they’d met in a place secluded and away from the world.She wondered, and convinced herself of the answer, if she would ever have returned from such a place today.If he had this kind of money at his disposal, if he could offer her this sum in a briefcase, surely he had enough to make a little problem like her disappear entirely.Maybe he’d have brought her to that little spot up on Cedar Ridge, that spot that he’d taken her for a romantic evening mere months before, that private spot high above the town and the falls, and she wondered if she might not have met a tragic and accidental demise there, at his beautiful hands.
“You raped me.”She said, matter-of-fact.It had to be done.She had no choice.He’d left her no choice.
His eyes narrowed sharply.“You know full fucking well that I did no such thing.”He growled.
“You drugged me and you took advantage of me without my consent.”She said blandly.
“Lying fucking Cunt.”He hissed.
“I told you I loved you but that I wanted to wait for marriage.”She explained, like a teacher explains a word problem.“I’m Catholic.”She added, to support the working theory.
He cursed vehemently and sat back against the tallish vinyl booth, his long arms looking as though they were trying to push her and the table and the briefcase away from himself.
“I’m Catholic, and I wanted to wait for marriage, and you got tired of trying to wear me down the conventional way, and you put something in my drink.”She said without emotion.“When I woke up I was confused and betrayed and devastated.”She rattled off. “I was ashamed and didn’t know what to do, or if anyone would believe me.”She continued, despite the murderous gleam in his eye. “Of course, once you’d had me you were done with me, and I was thinking about becoming a Nun after Christmas when I discovered that I was late.”She swallowed.The last bit was true.It caused a lump to form rapidly in her throat.She licked her lips and closed her eyes for a moment to muster the will to continue.
When she reopened her eyes it was to find him watching her carefully.
“You can deny this all you like.”She told him levelly.“But you and I both know how it will play out.”She was threatening him.It felt as alarming and dangerous as it had the first time, in the car, when she’d thrown this insane blackmail at him on impulse, in self-defense.When he’d thought to take her to an abortion clinic, and she’d thought they were headed to City Hall.
He turned his head to gaze out the large glass window beside them.Maggie reached for her orange juice—they’d had to order something to keep the waitstaff off their backs as they sat there on a busy Sunday morning—and she sipped gingerly.She was beginning to feel the now too familiar warning signs of impending nausea.She wondered how quickly she could end this ‘meeting’ with Grey.
“What are the terms?”He said, sounding resigned and radiating frustration.
Her lips left the straw as if in slow motion.She blinked at him.
He nodded out the window, at the parkway.“I’m guessing that huge Mexican fella is here to make sure I go along with this, hm?”
Maggie blushed furiously.“My cousin Hugo.”She mumbled almost apologetically.“He’s a lawyer—sort of.”
She stared at the scratched linoleum table surface.Fixed her eyes on the smooth worn spots and imagined how many times this table had been wiped this morning, this week, this month, this year.She thought about her upcoming shift at her family restaurant with tired resignation.She needed to be there in an hour, and so did Hugo.Or her father would start asking questions.And she wasn’t ready to give answer just yet.
“Well.”Grey said dispassionately.“Let’s get El Gigante in here and start talking ‘chantaje’—“He said, casually gesturing to Maggie’s cousin, who was leaning up against a parking meter in front of the diner, waiting for the sign to enter. “Shall we, my dear?”Gracefully he slid the briefcase from the table and set it on the tiled floor beneath.She decided it wasn’t a concealed recording device afterall.
Numbly, she nodded out the window to Hugo; it was time.
Maggie tried to feel victorious, but mostly she felt ill.She tried to thank the saints for helping her preserve the life of her unborn child, but all she could think in the moment was that Grey knew a lot more Spanish than he’d let on.
“Grey, I don’t have that kind of money.” Jonah Delaney sat behind the large dark wooden desk in his private study and gestured to the armchair across from him.
Grey didn’t move from his place by the door.
“You’d better find that kind of money.” His son responded coolly.
Jonah felt a muscle twitch in his jaw. “Why don’t you ask your mother?” He asked casually.
“It’s hush money you son-of-a-bitch, do you really want Mum to know about it?”
Jonah didn’t dare turn his eyes from his son’s. “Hush money?” He asked simply.
“Don’t fuck with me, Dad.” Grey curled his lips into something like a smile. “Get me the money and I’ll pretend I was never here yesterday.”
Jonah licked the inside of his teeth for a moment. “I’m not sure what you think you saw, or heard, or know—“ He watched his son roll his eyes but kept his voice even and measured. “But whatever you’re imagining, Grey, you’re wrong.”
The young man’s eyes narrowed. “Who was in the shower?”
Jonah only hesitated for a fraction of a moment. “Your sister.”
“Bullshit.”
Jonah gestured again for Grey to sit but he obstinately stood his ground.
“Viola chose not to go upstate.” Jonah explained and reached for his coffee mug. He took a sip of the dark, sturdy brew, licked his lips and waited for Grey. “She’s upstairs now, if you want to check.” Your move, you little prick.
Grey strode to the window by the tall barrister bookcase. He looked furious.
“Then why the fuck were you acting like that?” He demanded, sounding very young and petulant.
“I’m sorry, acting like what?” He leaned back in his desk chair and crossed his legs at the knee.
“Like you were caught.” Grey watched his father over his shoulder.
Reflexively Jonah adjusted his glasses and Grey’s expression of suspicion grew sharper. It was a tell. Jonah could kick himself. Grey’d played enough games of cards with his father and uncles to pick up on Jonah’s tells. The little bastard usually walked away with the entire contents of his father’s wallet whenever they played. Of course, Jonah had intentionally avoided inviting him to last evening’s poker game, but that had had nothing to do with the young man’s card skills.
“I don’t know about caught—“ Jonah laughed easily “You scared the daylights out of me, sure.”
Grey turned to face the desk and crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“Listen, spare me the song and dance. You were caught, you were panicked, you were doing something you weren’t supposed to.” He smiled. “Or someone you weren’t supposed to.”
Jonah swallowed. “You’re mistaken.” He said, a note of warning embedded in the simple reply.
“Maybe.” Grey shrugged. “Maybe I’ll let Mum puzzle it out, leave it for her to figure out whether or not you’re telling the truth.”
Jonah’s lips tightened and he felt a prickling under his collar. “Grey, you misinterpreted what you saw yesterday.” He explained civilly. “Your sister was upstairs in the shower, I was coming downstairs because I heard someone in my den, and we startled each other.” He leaned forward now, putting an elbow on the desk and reaching again for his coffee. “Now, I apologize for being a bear, but I’d just woken up and was still half-asleep I think.” He sipped the coffee and was relieved to see his hands were holding steady.
“And the cue ball you chucked at my head?”
“I did no such thing.”
“You are so full of shit.”
Jonah hadn’t realized Grey’d heard him throw that billiard ball. “Alright, I was a little furious with you.”
“For catching you with your whore.”
Jonah stood so fast his desk chair tipped back dangerously before recovering.
Grey looked triumphant.
Thinking quickly, Jonah put his two fists down on the surface of the desk and leaned toward his son. “Because my son walked out of here with blackmail on his lips, you arrogant little shit.”
Grey’s glee died a little in his eyes but he kept the smug grin.
“Now sit down and we’ll talk about this like civilized adults.” Jonah kept his aggressive stance. He hoped to hell he was selling the angry father routine. Hoped he could throw Grey off the scent.
It was a long, tense moment before the young man capitulated and took a seat in front of the desk. He sauntered over, dripping with arrogance, as if it had been his idea to sit all along. Jonah clenched his teeth and waited for Grey to settle in before continuing.
“Now what kind of trouble are you in?” He asked, more gently, coming to sit on the corner of the desk.
Grey scoffed. “You’re the one in trouble, you horse’s ass.”
Jonah raised his eyebrows. “Grey—“ His tone was cautionary but not unkind. “You came here yesterday for something. What was it?”
The older man watched the younger man’s eyebrows knit together. “I need that money.” He said at last.
“I will do what I can to help you son,” Jonah’s gut contracted when he saw Grey sneer at the word ‘son’. He’d raised the boy, loved the boy, fed, clothed, and sheltered him, taught him how to ride a bike and hit a ball and drive a car. What the fuck else could Jonah do to prove he was the kid’s father? He’d held him in the night when he was afraid of monsters, he’d read him stories and tied his shoes and brought him fishing. He’d helped him build a soapbox car for boy scouts and sat with him for hours until he understood his math homework, he’d driven him to football practice and been to every single scrimmage and game, home and away. He was patient and nurturing and reliable and never turned him away when he needed or wanted his dad’s help with something. And still the boy treated him with disdain.
Did he really believe Vaughan Grey would have, could have possibly been a better father? Jonah pushed the thought away forcefully. He cleared his throat and continued.
“I’ll help however I possibly can,“ He reiterated, “But I don’t have access to that kind of money.”
Grey betrayed his desperation by running his fingers through his hair. “Dad, you’ve got to.”
Jonah tried not to feel like the sap he knew his son believed him to be.
“What kind of trouble are you in, son?” he repeated softly.
Grey took a deep breath and then sighed heavily. “I got a girl pregnant.”
Jonah blinked slowly. It wasn’t the first time Grey had told him this exact news. It wasn’t even the third. How many times had he had to tell the boy to wear some goddamn protection? “I should think you have enough money in the account we set up for this purpose—“
“She won’t get an abortion.”
“Oh.” Jonah couldn’t really think of what else to say. So a girl was extorting his son. Jonah supposed it was bound to happen eventually. The boy was a very rich bachelor who liked to have unprotected sex with pretty young things.
“I want to buy her off.” Grey explained impatiently.
“I see.” Jonah squeezed the bridge of his nose and sucked on his tongue. He really didn’t have that kind of money. He was spending a fortune on Avalon’s monster of a wedding.
If he took it from his joint account with Velvet then she would notice, one couldn’t help but notice the absence of such a substantial sum. Grey obviously wanted to do this without his mother’s knowledge. Jonah guessed it was because Velvet would not approve and would not consent to this course of action. Grey wanted to be well and truly rid of the girl and if Velvet knew she was having a grandchild Grey would be roped into a fatherhood he neither wanted nor needed.
What an irresponsible, selfish, callous bastard.
“Well Grey,” Jonah spoke at last, standing and walking back to his seat behind the desk. “As I don’t have the funds and I presume you don’t wish to ask your mother for it—“ He sat and leaned back. “it looks like you’ll have to ask your father.”
Grey blanched. Jonah never so much as mentioned Grey’s real father. He was not referred to, he was not referenced, he was not a factor. Jonah always acted as though Vaughan Grey did not exist.
See if your selfish, arrogant, ass of a sperm-donor can help you out of this one, you obnoxious little prick. Jonah sipped his coffee grimly.
“Are you serious?” Grey’s voice was tight and higher than usual.
“I’m afraid so.” Jonah was calm. His son had expected to come here and get a desperate sucker to dole out tens of thousands of dollars. Well, he was sick of dancing to this fucker’s tune. If he wanted to conduct himself like Vaughan Grey’s heir, seducing pretty virgins and fucking up their lives, then let him go ask Vaughan Grey for the money to clean up his mess.
“You want me to ask him?”
“Of course it isn’t what I want—“ Jonah said, swirling the last third of his dark roast in his mug. “But I don’t think you have much of a choice, do you?”
Grey looked openly stunned and a little disgusted.
“Of course you could do the right thing—“ Jonah began, knowing his fatherly advice would roll off the boy like rainwater.
“Save it.” Grey said and stood to pace the study.
Jonah wanted to tell the young man that he’d behaved like a perfect idiot and it was coming around to bite him in the ass. He did not. “I want you to know that your mother and I will support you and the young lady, should you decide to do right by her.”
Grey threw his head back and growled in frustration.
“I’m not marrying some sneaky little slut just because she was too religious for birth control!”
“And what’s your excuse?” Jonah countered, trying to control the lecturing tone that was creeping into his voice.
Grey stopped pacing and glared at his father. “It fucking feels good.”
Jonah smiled wanly. “You’re an ass.”
Grey nodded slowly. “You’re hiding something, and I’m going to find out what it is, and you’re going to be very, very sorry you didn’t give me this money.”
“Say hello to Vaughan for me.” Jonah said to Grey’s back as he stalked out of the study. He received a middle finger in response.
