Page 61 of Ruthless Love

“You won’t have to. He’s been talking a lot about the future. Call me crazy, but I think he wants it too.”

Is that why he came over? Is he watching me for this? To make sure I’m the right choice?

“Okay, you’re crazy,” I say because it doesn’t matter.

If somehow Dad has found God or sanity—or maybe just his own mortality—leaning on me now is too little, too late. The bastard’s too stubborn ... or misogynistic ... or arrogant to just tell me. Instead, he resorts to the only tool he’s ever had in that laser-focused toolbox of his. The one he’s skilled at. Serving me with every feeling his heart and soul have for me, coated in a thick layer of pure disdain.

I look up, meeting Alan’s eyes that have softened with sadness and regret. “If I took the job—and the chances of me growing a penis are a thousand percent higher—then what would you do?”

It’s Alan’s turn for a woeful shrug. “I don’t know,” he says, relaxing his brow but looking much older than his thirty years. “But—” He pauses for a second, struggling for the right words. “Evie, I need a favor.”

“Anything.”

“I need someone to look over the books. I’ve never had the head for numbers that you do, but I think money’s disappearing. And the old regime are all loyal to Dad. I think I’m being set up.” His expression turns solemn, and something in him goes dark. “You’re the only person I trust.”

“You think it’s Dad?”

He huffs out a laugh. “I don’t know. But I know if there’s one life preserver, and he just crashed into an iceberg, I’ll be going down with the ship.”

Alan sounds hopeless, so I reassure him. “I’ll take care of it.”

“You always do. I love you, Evie.”

Tears well up when I nearly strangle him in another tight hug, this one around his neck. “I love you too.”

When I hear a harsh, “Evie,” I jolt from Alan’s arms and whirl around to find one of the two men I definitely don’t want to see.

“Austin,” I huff out, annoyed. “How the hell did you get in here?”

And why does he have to look so goddamn good?

His stubble is rugged to match his sandy hair, and his bright eyes are wild. I’m already soaked to the core before I take in the leather jacket that means he rode his motorcycle over, and paints him in a look that’s a thousand times hotter than the clothes he normally wears for work.

Austin does a double-take of my brother before he answers. “Some half-naked woman wearing a Hooters shirt let me in. Friend of yours?” he asks Alan, his question less threatening but more genuinely interested.

“Maybe she’s a friend of mine,” I say, defiant with protest.

The sinful half smile that blooms on Austin’s lips is so playful. So hot. Another second longer of looking at this living god, and I’ll be screwed.

Turning away, Alan takes my cue. “I’m Alan.”

While he extends a hand to Austin, I give my brother a death stare that he knows means I’m seconds away from planting my knee in his nuts. Catching my eye, he simply shrugs as Austin returns the handshake.

“Austin.”

“Yes,” I say firmly, ready to avoid any and all conversation with the man. As Alan carelessly takes another swig of his Scotch, ready to watch what I’m sure he thinks will be fireworks, I square my shoulders. “Alan is my lover.”

Both men snap their heads toward me, their expressions equal parts shock and confusion.

Austin asks, “He is?” while simultaneously Alan chokes out, “I am?” coughing as the swallow he attempted goes down the wrong way.

Strangely enough, Austin pats his back. “You okay?”

“Yup,” Alan squeaks out between coughs, and clears his throat. Without a word, he eyes the Scotch still in his hands, then glares at me. “I’m going to take this and protect you from hitting the bottle further.”

For that, he gets a sock in the arm from me.

“Ow,” he whines on his way out. “Nice meeting you, Austin.”

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