“Don’t push him too hard,” Mother says, her voice uncharacteristically placating. “People call him the Beast of Bishop’s Landing for a reason.”
I set the empty bottle on the table in front of me, ignoring her suggestion. “I’ll handle this, Mother. On my own. I won’t negotiate.”
I’ll be damned if the Morellis take out my mother too.
Mother’s phone rings. She pulls it from her purse and answers, “Hello, Ulrich. What do you have for me?” A pause. “I see.” She stands and exits the office, taking her private conversation elsewhere.
Anthony yammers on about his plan of attack and how he’ll get Leo to heel like a good dog. I’m confident in his abilities, so I absently nod through his monologue. When he’s finished, I check the time. It’s close to noon, so I text my brother.
Me: I need you to babysit Ash while she has lunch with her boyfriend.
Perry: Nate?
His comment rankles me.
Me: No. He hates her. Tate.
Perry: Who the hell is Tate???
Me: Stop taking excessive punctuation tips from Ash.
Perry: I’m not even going to pretend to understand what that means. Who is Tate and am I supposed to kill him?
Me: Ash’s ex-boyfriend. He wants to hold her during her time of need. Make sure he doesn’t get handsy. If he does, break both his hands.
Perry: You forgive her yet?
Me: This isn’t gossip hour.
Perry: You want me to smash body parts on your girlfriend’s ex. I’d say this is gossip-worthy, Winny.
Me: Only if he gets handsy and she’s not my girlfriend.
Perry: LOL…can you even type that with a straight face?
I send him several middle-finger emojis which earns me an obnoxious amount of crying-laughing emojis.
Me: You’re a child.
Perry: And you’re dating one…
Me: Are you done?
Perry: I mean…I could go on for hours, but I have a lunch date with a dweeb and my hot future sister-in-law.
Me: Remind him that we’re Constantines.
Perry: Don’t worry, big bro. I’ve got this.
Mother sits down beside me, not so discreetly peeking at my texts. She arches a brow at me but says nothing. Approval ripples from her and for some reason it relaxes me. I suppose when you play nice with the golden child, you earn a little favor too.
I get the same light feeling as I do when I look at that picture of Ash and her bird. The picture I’m probably—okay, so never—going to delete one day soon.
Apparently Constantines do have the ability to be happy.
Unfortunately, this Constantine finds happiness in the strangest fucking things and needs his head checked.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ash
I’m nervous.
Not because I’m seeing Tate, but because Perry will be coming with me. Is he mad at me? For some reason, I can handle Winston being pissy because that’s his usual, but having Perry upset with me makes my heart hurt.
Because he’s my friend.
I don’t have too many of those lately and I’ve really come to think of Perry as one. It sucks that I may have potentially screwed up my most valued friendship too.
“You ready?” Perry asks, leaning on the doorjamb of the conference room.
After my altercation with Nate, he sent me to the conference room to continue hunting through contracts, but “out of his way.” I’d been all too happy to get away from that creep.
“Yep.” I pile the contracts on top of each other and neaten them up. “I need to drop these back off at Nate’s.”
Perry is unusually quiet and his features are hard to read. A rock forms in the pit of my stomach. I’d really hoped to see his playful, smiling face. All this seriousness is stressful.
I grab my purse up and the stack of contracts. Perry steps out into the lobby, allowing me to go ahead of him. My knees are wobbly with nerves as I make my way to Nate’s. He’s on his phone chatting with someone but glowers at me as I bring back the contracts. I toss them on his desk and mouth the word, “lunch,” at him. Not waiting for his approval, I bolt out of his office. Perry stands nearby, hands shoved into his pockets and face tilted down.
Great.
He hates me now.
I bet he wants to kill Winston for making him babysit me.
It’s not until we’re in the elevator, alone, that Perry unleashes on me. I expect him to sling angry words at me. What I’m not prepared for is for them to be laced with brotherly concern.
“Jesus, Ash, what the hell happened? Morelli? Really? You should have come to us. Win and I could have helped. Now…” He curses under his breath and scrubs his palm over his face. “Now it’s a fucking forest fire that’ll never get put out.”
“I was trying to avoid all this,” I grumble, hating the emotions rising up inside me threatening tears once again.
“Are you okay?”
I flinch at his words. “What?”
“How are you handling all this?”
I won’t cry. I won’t.