More arms shot up, a swell of voices. I pointed at theForbesreporter.
“Are you concerned that the Securities and Exchange Commission might take interest in your company?” he asked.
My brows drew together. “Why would they take interest in my company?”
“Don’t interview them,” Trace said under his breath.
“They might take interest because of your high-profile activities,” the reporter stammered. “Your company has one of the highest return rates of all the wealth management companies out there, and…”
I looked over at Trace then back at the reporter. Anxiety spiked inside me. “We have no reason to be concerned about an investigation. Next.”
It went like that for almost fifteen minutes. Answering every question and its mutant offspring. By the time we wrapped the press conference, my limbs were shaky and I needed a nap. Or a hamburger. At the very least, I needed Cora.
“You did good out there,” Trace said as we stepped behind the curtained sidelines. They attempted smiles, but both of my brothers wore their worry etched deep into their faces.
“Thank God you’re good at that stuff, because I couldn’t handle it,” Damian said, pushing his fingertips into the front of his hair.
“No problem, brothers. Anytime.” I clapped them both on the back as we headed for the back exit. I was more than ready to shake of the stress of the day and start hoping for a better tomorrow. “But where the fuck did that question about the SEC come from?”
It still gnawed at me. Damian sent me a dark look.
“I don’t even want to say those words in a sentence.”
“You think we have something to worry about?” I asked quietly, looking between them. The Securities and Exchange Commission was the highest authority in our line of work. Plenty of businesses got investigated for wrongdoing. And while we weren’t exactly breaking laws, we’d started our business treading water in the moat that surrounds the Castle of Wrongdoing.
The waters were murky.
Made murkier when we purchased Strata and forced Yagel into obsolescence.
“We’re fine,” Trace said. “Let’s just focus on suing the magazine and moving on from this.”
I followed my brothers, letting them lead the way into the back hallway of the hotel. Moving on from this felt like a fantasy at this point. But I knew something that would help take the edge off for a little bit at least.
I needed to visit Kentucky. Immediately.
And I needed Cora there with me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CORA
After a three-day getaway, Axel and I were back in Manhattan, refreshed and ready for the next shitstorm to hit.
Axel had whisked me away on a no-questions-asked trip to the outskirts of Louisville. He had a house on a horse farm out there, only a mile from the house he and his brothers had built for his parents. We’d eaten dinner one night with Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild. Even after I caused Axel to spiral and nearly ruin his life from heartbreak, they still had the grace to welcome me into their home.
Miracles were real.
Nobody could tell me otherwise.
But back in Manhattan, something felt different as soon as I stepped off the private jet. The air sagged with humidity, as it always did in mid-August. But Kentucky had been just the same. Maybe the weight of everything I’d tried to escape for a blessed weekend was causing atmospheric imbalances.
Trace was the first to text. Axel showed me the message as we settled into the car:You guys ready for the real world yet? There’s a new round of headlines. This time, you two are in the spotlight.
My stomach twisted into impossible knots. We spent the car ride catching up on the news that had broken during our getaway. Whatever was responsible for rending the clouds and unbalancing the atmosphere, this was probably it.
“Jesus fuck,” Axel muttered as he scrolled through his phone. I hesitated to follow along, but it was impossible not to.
MARGULIS MARITAL MESS: The Princess of Manhattan Heads for a New Prince