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“You didn’t tell them?”

“What’s the point?” I shrug. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“All right.” She stands from the bed. I let out a breath, happy she’s going to let it go. I always feel ashamed when I think back to it.

“How about we make breakfast?”

I’m grateful Mrs. Putman changes the subject. “Together?”

“Yep. Are any of those recipes you have for breakfast items?”

“Yes! There’s one for funnel cake pancakes.” I have a whole pile of recipes for breakfast, but that’s at the top. “Has Griff eaten? I can make them for him.”

“I think he’d love that.” She smiles as I spring from the bed. All my thoughts are now focused on Griff, the darkness all but forgotten.

11

GRIFFIN

“What is so goddamn pressing?” I storm into my office.

“Sir–” Vinny holds up a hand.

That’s when I see Charles sitting on my couch, a drink in his hand.

“You’re dismissed,” I bark at Vinny.

He closes the door behind him as he leaves.

I sit at my desk.

“Want one?” he asks.

“I don’t drink.”

He snorts a laugh. “What a gripping life you must lead.”

“Is there a reason for this visit?” I lean back and get a better look at him. Disheveled. Bloodshot eyes. And beneath that, there’s true sadness. He’s lost his parents, after all. Even if they were absentee at best, they were still part of his and Vivian’s life.

“I want my sister, and I want my share. After that, we don’t have to see each other.”

I steeple my fingers and consider him. “I know we haven’t spoken much, if at all. But I have to say I’m somewhat puzzled by your hostile tone.”

“Listen, I know what kind of man you are, Griffin. My sister doesn’t belong here with you. She belongs with me. The company does, too.”

There it is. What he wants. He’s too foolish to realize a real player never tips his hand.

“You think the company should belong to you now?”

He nods and finishes his drink, then rises to pour himself another. “Why does an asshole who never drinks have liquor in his personal office?”

I let him finish pouring and take a drink before I respond.

“Well?” he asks as he retakes his seat.

“Because when I have business guests who think they can gain some advantage over me, I prefer to give them just enough rope to hang themselves with. Alcohol is included in the rope part of that analogy.”

He holds his glass out and stares at it. “Is it poisoned?”


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