Page 57 of Ruthless Wars

It’s all I can do to remind myself that Margot is a lot of things—smart, sweet, honest in her emotions, and crazy loyal to friends like Evie, who seems to drive her up a wall. And for all the things that Margot is, there’s one thing she’s not.

She’s sure as hell not her father.

That doesn’t erase the fact that she’s still his daughter. He worries about her, and Margot cares for him. Loves him, obviously.

Can I go through with this? Am I really starting a war with Everett Long?

Chapter Thirty-One

Coop

In every picture I’ve seen of Everett Long, including the ones on the covers of Forbes, Money, and a dated one from Architectural Digest, his expression is always the same. A let’s get down to business smile filled with equal parts seriousness and charm. Always dressed in a suit that’s pure Texas tycoon, from the bolo tie to the steel-tipped cowboy boots, all he’s missing is the ten-gallon hat.

But tonight, there’s no trace of a smile in the grim line of his lips. Perhaps he knows that his world is about to be shattered, and there’s not a goddamn thing he can do about it.

For no other reason than professional courtesy, I offer him a seat opposite my desk. It’s an asshole move. But there’s a chilled no-name bottle of water waiting for him, and an outrageously expensive leather chair that his sorry ass can slide into. It’s more than he ever did when the roles were reversed.

What can I say? Karma’s the biggest, baddest bitch there is, and today, she works for me.

“Mr. Byrne,” he says, his naturally deep voice booming unnecessarily in the small space between us. “I want to thank you for meeting with me. I appreciate your time.”

Although he’s barely said a word, my mild irritation ticks up to an anger that, when I’m sparring with my trainer at the gym, usually ends in a throat punch. I manage to leash it with a deep breath through my nostrils that are locked into full-blown, raging-bull flare.

“Look, perhaps we can save the pleasantries and cut the crap. What do you want?”

“Good.” Everett’s lips quirk into an amused smile as he claps both knees loudly. “My appetite for bullshit’s pretty low as well. I hear you may have an interest in Margot.”

His words come out like a question, and I mask my genuine surprise, guarding my intentions.

“Margot?” I say carefully. If you want to call my fucking that gorgeous goddess eight ways to Sunday an interest, I guess the answer’s yes. But I’m not exactly sure where this is going, or why we’re veering off topic, so I’m noncommittal. “Perhaps.”

Everett’s expression turns serious. “Well, I’d like you to keep your distance from her.”

“And I’d like you to go fuck yourself prison-style, but as I’ve heard time and time again, you don’t always get what you want.”

A wave of panic flashes across his face, but he reins it in. Calmly, he leans in, and the sheer size of the man is intimidating as hell—a giant who could probably crush my mahogany desk by just shifting his weight.

Is this how he gets away with so much bullshit? By throwing his weight around? Squeezing the little guy until he can’t breathe?

Well, try again.

“Anything else?” I ask, pulling in a deep, calming breath through my nose.

Everett shakes his head, pursing his lips. “You’re not hearing me, Mr. Byrne. You have to stay away from Margot.”

His words are direct, but not nearly as threatening as I would have expected. Something in his tone is desperate, and fuck me, but it almost sounds like a plea.

“I’m not sure that’s possible,” I say honestly.

The knot that furls his brow ages him, hardening every line of his face. I’m almost concerned until he says, “I’ll give you what you want.”

And there it is. What I want.

An uncontrolled smile breaks through the stoic demeanor I’ve been projecting, but when I hear those six beautiful little words, I know I’ve got him. Fuck him if it shows.

Suddenly, I’m forced to reconsider what it is I want.

It’s not like I haven’t thought of this moment a million times over the last several years. Played it out in my mind, letting it end in a dozen different scenarios.

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