Page 57 of Chase

Samantha stands in the doorway of my office, leaning against the frame and refocusing my attention from the night before. “Can I help you, miss?” I call across. She shrugs before stepping into the room.

“I’m here to see a man about a promise he made,” she says.

“What promise would that be?”

“A diamond ring, a happily ever after, and the pitter-patter of tiny feet.”

My heart skips as she quotes my emoji message back to me. Deep down, I know Russell will be seething that I sent something so heartfelt, but I wanted to play my hand boldly. No matter what happens, I don’t want her to think long-term wasn’t my plan.

“I’m aware of the potential contract,” I confirm as she walks toward my desk. I push my chair back, and she slides between me and the surface before jumping up to sit before me. “Are you in need of some advice?”

“No,” she says, leaning forward, her eyes holding mine. “All I need is a little time to sort my shit out so I don’t let you down.”

Chapter twenty-three

Chase, Chase, and Waite Law Offices, Canary Wharf

Russell

I stuff the unwanted letter from my father into my desk drawer. The three pages will go unread. All I needed to see was his opening line in his handwriting— I’m dying. I need you, son—to know I wasn’t interested in its contents.

He’s the last person I ever want to help. Locked up is where he needs to be, whether he’s dying or not. I hope he rots in a jail cell until he departs this earth. I will never know why he felt it necessary to contact me now. He can’t be stupid enough to think I would care after all the evil he did to my siblings and me.

His terminal diagnosis is something I’ll keep to myself. Everyone else he’s hurt doesn’t need to know. No one’s heartstrings will be pulled on because of my loose tongue. I look forward to notifying everyone of his death when it occurs.

Samantha arrived ten minutes ago; I saw her on the camera leaving the elevator. She didn’t come to my office first, and now I’m pissed. Grabbing my crutches, I maneuver myself from my desk to search for her, though I fucking know where she’ll be, and the fact she picked to see him first is infuriating.

Connor’s office door is ajar, but I hear the unmistakable laughter from across the office. Limping toward the sound, I push open the door with my crutch. It swings backward and clatters off the white wall. I hope it leaves a dent.

“You were to come to my office first,” I say, my tone conveying my annoyed attitude. Samantha sits on my brother’s desk as he leans back in his chair, staring at her. She glances over her shoulder and rolls her eyes.

“I decided not to,” she says with a smirk. “You don’t always get everything you want. That’s a lesson you need to learn.”

“I do always get what I want, Trouble.” Her eyes narrow, but a sexy smile plays on her lips. “And I’m the one with the broken leg, so why am I hobbling across the office to meet you both?”

“You shouldn’t be back at work,” she shoots back. “It’s too soon.”

“I told him that,” Connor adds.

“Don’t fucking gang up on me,” I mutter, pissed off by their tag-teaming. “All I would have done at home was sit with my laptop anyway. At least here I have company.”

“But you’re terrible company,” Connor tells me. Samantha jumps down, then leans over to kiss him on the forehead before turning to me. She saunters across the office insanely slowly before arriving at my side.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she says. “I reckon you can be pretty good company.” She rises on tiptoe and places her lips on my cheek. It feels so fucking good. “Come and sit down, and I’ll tell you what happened at the hospital today.” She touches my elbow, directing me to the desk.

“I think this would be a better conversation to have with the others at The Level,” Connor suggests as I take my first step. “So we can all try to figure out what the hell is going on. I’ll call the others.”

Connor pushes his chair back and stands before walking around to the other side of his desk. He lifts the keys from the small bowl on the side table, throwing them up in the air before catching them in his palm. He walks past Sam and me in the direction of the door.

“Are you both coming?” he calls over his shoulder. “I’ll drive.”

“Well, it's not as if I can fucking drive,” I call to his retreating back. Samantha giggles, and it’s the sweetest sound.

“You two are dreadful siblings,” she tells me. “Can you have a conversation and not try to annoy the other?”

“Trouble, we have spent over thirty years perfecting our relationship. Why would we change it when it works so beautifully?”

“Are you both coming?” Connor repeats from the doorway. “Come on, let’s go.” Samantha shakes her head but moves toward the door. Connor holds his hand out to her, and she takes it. “You hold onto your crutches, brother. I’ll make sure our girl is okay.”

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