“No, my dear, we weren’t at odds,” he said. “You were never a challenge.”
“And there’s not one now.” I lied to them all. “Only partnerships.”
Darius chuckled. “This new generation is certainly more agreeable than the old.”
“Only because we know what we want.”
“And what’s that?”
I answered with every honesty. “Family and power. Same as the Bennetts.”
My board members nodded. Anthony raised his champagne and an eyebrow. “I’ll drink to that.”
So would Darius.
My mouth dried, but I didn’t let my hand tremble. Nicholas squeezed my elbow, as though he read through my cracking, flaking façade.
“To the beginning of a new partnership,” I said.
Darius grinned. “A new union between families.”
The toast clinked. I drew my trembling glass to my lips, staring as the liquid swirled in Darius’s glass.
One drink.
The others sipped.
Darius’s arm moved slowly, draggingly.
Up. Up. Up.
To his lips.
On his lips.
The glass cracked under my grip.
Just drink it.
My orange juice would choke me. I’d drown, bloat, suffer through the tiniest of sips in a closing throat with my aching chest. So close to being free. So close to protecting Bumper.
So close to ending it.
Drink it, you son of a bitch.
Darius opened his gullet and guzzled a swig of the alcohol. A large, gluttonous gulp that splashed down his throat.
I hoped it burned.
Just a prelude to the flames that would conquer him so soon.
He pulled the tumbler from his lips, staring at the drink. Then his eyes beaded and narrowed and focused on me.
If he had a weapon, he would have fired it. If he had a belt, he would have beaten me.
If we were alone, he would have done far, far worse.
But he had nothing. He could only count the slipping grains of sand through the cracked hourglass of his life.
His glass raised again, smiling over the circle of allies and enemies.
“Another toast.” His words threaded with vile intent. “One of congratulations and well-wishes for my darling daughter, Sarah.”
Nicholas gripped my arm. The bastard twisted a knife without pulling it from the sheath. He called for another round of champagne with false excitement. The others raised their glasses once more.
“Here’s to a life of joy and good health.”
Anthony, Bryant, and my board waited in polite confusion. Darius smiled at me.
Only me.
“My dear, I can’t wait to meet my grandson.”
My father revealed the pregnancy.
I should have known.
I should have expected it.
I should have realized nothing Sarah Atwood did was premeditated beyond a moment of pure, emotional rage.
Reckless, foolish, dangerous girl.
What had she done?
“Grandson?” Anthony Delvannis looked upon my family with contempt on our best days. My father presented the attorney with everything he needed to piece the crime together, take Sarah from me, and destroy us. “Sarah? Are you…?”
She hadn’t sipped her juice. The glass cracked in her hand, and a single bead of blood trickled over her thumb. She stared at my father as if she couldn’t believe he’d use the child against her.
She was smarter than that.
And she was fortunate he labeled the baby as his grandson.
“I…” A paleness drained the color from her cheeks. “I had meant to keep that particular announcement private.”
“Forgive my excitement.” My father spoke to the crowd of stunned board members and associates. “I haven’t been this pleased since my sons were born.”
Bryant laughed, a perverted glee. He gulped his champagne and ordered more.
“Ms. Atwood, you’re pregnant!” It wasn’t a question. He declared war. “How…when did this all happen?”
Max tensed, but Bryant was my responsibility. His fate sealed when he assisted with my attempted murder.
But I couldn’t answer for Sarah.
We hadn’t discussed what problems the revelation would cause or how we would present it to the world. The child was mine. Sarah was mine. But everything about an Atwood heir and a Bennett son was difficult enough without the additional complication of our family ties. We were step-siblings, and the scandal would shame Sarah.
Just as it’d shame Bumper.
Sarah refused to surrender to my father, but nothing good came when she dug in her heels.
“I am expecting,” she said, channeling elegance and a fierce pride. “And I’m as excited as my step-father.”
The Atwood board members stared in horror as the woman who assumed ownership of the company now lost everything to an unborn child.
A child that would own them all.
And it was mine.
A Bennett.
A life that would ruin others, depose empires, and steal fortunes.
Once, I wanted that power.
Now?
I just wanted a healthy child, Sarah to be safe and loved, and our enemies dead, buried, and unable to harm the life we created.
“Sarah.” Anthony’s expression twisted. He reached for her, not caring as she hesitantly protested. “Come with me. Excuse us.”
She untangled her hand from Anthony’s only to take his arm instead. I followed, though Anthony turned after half a dozen steps. He sneered.
“Don’t even try it, Bennett.”
Sarah forced a plastic smile as he guided her through the crowds. “Anthony, really. You’re going to make a scene.”
“I prefer it that way.”
Max and Reed excused themselves from the spreading gossip that hushed the entirety of the conservatory. Reed had invited every important family from the West Coast to attend. Sarah would be humiliated.
Or enraged.
I followed them through an access hallway. Anthony lunged for my throat.
He dared to lay a hand on me. Two, actually. His fists curled within my suit, and he jammed me against the wall. Sarah groaned.
We stood eye-to-eye, neither blinking. I wasn’t threatened by him, even if he thought himself powerful. His family was moneyed, but he was nothing compared to the Bennett wealth. I didn’t care for his attitude or the rumors of his particular lifestyle, no matter how much they currently mirrored my own tastes.
No one touched me. And no one would chastise Sarah Atwood and drag her through a party like an errant child. She deserved more respect than any of us had ever given her.
“Release me,” I said.
“What the fuck did you do to her?”
Sarah hissed. “Anthony, let him go.”
“What did you do to her?”
“I advise you to listen to the lady,” I said.
Anthony scowled. His grip tightened. I didn’t trust the blind hatred seething from this man. He understood his strength, knew exactly the pain his hands could cause.
That made his restraint all the more dangerous.
“Sarah, did he hurt you?” he asked.
“You don’t understand.” Sarah tried to edge close. “Let him go.”
“Did. He. Hurt. You.”
She tugged on his arm. “No, he didn’t. Anthony, please.”
Her breathing rasped, and it ached in my chest. I kept her inhaler in my pocket. She needed it.
She needed me.
And if her attorney didn’t remove his hands by her next wheeze, I wouldn’t be responsible for my behavior.
“Who is the father?”
Sarah protested. Anthony demanded it again. I loathed the question. She never should have had to hesitate, to blink in memory, to fear such things.
“I am,” I said.
“Oh, wrong answer.” Anthony slammed me against the wall. My patience wore thin, kept in check only as a favor to the woman begging for a moment of sanity. “I knew something was wrong. I just never thought you bastards would be sick enough to do this to an innocent girl.”