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“What, do you want a fucking medal?” Caleb growls. “You still took her. She still could have been hurt. And you did it all for fucking money, you sick fuck.”

I interject. “And I suppose you don’t have a clue where Higgins is now, huh.”

“I know where he lives and where he conducts business, but I don’t suppose he’d be stupid enough to show up there.”

“And I suppose you already got paid, did ya.” I add.

He shakes his head. “I got paid half, but it won’t be a spit in the bucket to the legal fees I’m going to shell out now.”

“Cry me a fucking river.” Caleb sneers, lifting a finger. “You ever come near Peg again, or my family, or anyone I know, I’ll make sure you’re ended, and I mean that.” He says with so much conviction, even I’m afraid of him for a moment. Caleb takes one more step towards him. “And the sad part is, asshole, if you had come to me, knowing that you were a friend of Gretchen’s, I would have helped you, man. But as far as I’m concerned, now, you can go get hung and burn in hell.”

Nathan hangs his head, nodding, completely defeated. Caleb walks away, and I follow him. We walk out the door and I follow, looking back once at Nathan, but he doesn’t lift his head. Good. “You okay, man?” I ask my brother, and as I try to put my hand on his shoulder, he immediately recoils.

“Look, Ethan, just fuckoff, man.”

So, I do just that.

The house still looks the same. And as I pull up to it, I get a shiver. I know why I’m here, but I’m not sure if it’s for the right reason. The truth is that Freya and I could never have been together, regardless of whether or not she and Caleb fucked. Regardless of whether or not that happened before or after she and I fucked. It took me a long time to figure it out, but the real reason why Freya and I could never be together is because she’s too small time for me. Da would be wounded if I went after a girl like Freya for real. Look how he set up Caleb and Laney. She’s as big time as you can get. Aside from marrying a fucking princess or a Hollywood starlet, or even someone high up there in politics. Either way, a banker, no matter what her role is, would be an insult to da.

And that’s the real reason why I told her to fuckoff. Truth is, I was looking for a way out. Things got too real. We both said those three wicked fucking words to each other, and there was no turning back. I needed an out. And her telling me about fucking Caleb was just the thing I needed. That’s why I never told Caleb about her and I. It was a fucking embarrassment. Freya should never have been anything to me except a roll in the fucking hay, just like she was to him, but I took it too far. I let her in. I told her she’d played me, but really, I’d played her. I kept fucking her, kept telling her I loved her, whether I really did or not is irrelevant. She was a good lay. She was a good time. She was the only girl that truly wanted me for me, and that’s when she dropped the bomb and told me that she’d been with Caleb first.

But now it’s personal. Caleb knows. And she wouldn’t help my family when the chips were down. Not saying that I blame her, but I kind of do. The difference is it wouldn’t matter if someone fucked me over, if there was a kid involved, I’d help. Can’t say the same for Freya, and that’s the bone I need to pick with her today. As much as it’s making my stomach turn just being here, I’ve got something to say that needs saying, and she’s going to fucking listen, too. As soon as I’ve got up the nerve to go inside, I see another car pull into her driveway, and I lose my nerve.

That’s when I see who it is…the girl that introduced us…

She and her partner in crime arrive late, which doesn’t impress me, especially since she’s the protégé of the man I hoped to meet, she’s not the real McCoy. But her boss is in the hospital, having recently suffered a stroke, the poor bastard. That being Gill Rogers, the millionaire banker, who clearly waited a day too long to make his move. Why he’s sent these girls is beyond me, when it’s his own finances that are in question here. Maybe he doesn’t have a woman to take his money when he dies, who knows.

“Sorry, we just came from the hospital. I’m Trudy.” The first woman introduces. “And this is Freya.” She says, gesturing to the other woman. Trudy is tall and lank, with deep set eyes and no chest, but Freya is petite, with a killer rack, big blue eyes, and curly brown hair loose around her head and neck, shoulder length.

“Freya. Is that Scottish?” I ask, not hiding my obvious accent.

She nods, impressed. “Aye. I just moved here from Scotland a year ago.”

We exchange what areas we’re from, as Trudy sits there, looking bored.

“Sorry to hear about your boss. That’s rough.” I add, inviting them both to sit. We’re in my office, just around four o’clock in the afternoon. They’re my last appointment of the day.

“Thanks. Mister Rogers will be home soon. The stroke was mild.” Freya explains.

“I’m surprised he sent you. I was expecting him to send his wife in his place.”

“Gill wouldn’t trust his wife with a stick of gum, frankly.” Freya states. “Besides, she’s tending to him, so he sent us instead.”

“Why both of you?” I inquire.

They exchange a look, appearing like they’re trying to stifle a chuckle. “Gill is afraid of you.” Freya admits. “He thinks you’ll try to snow us over, so he sent a team.”

I adjust my left cuff link. “Ah, an entourage.”

“Yes, exactly.” Trudy says.

We get down to business, and I find my gaze falling towards Freya more so than to Trudy, as I explain what we can offer.

“And what do you two do with Mr. Rogers, if you don’t mind me asking?” I ask, after a brief casual conversation, on a personal tangent.

“I’m his personal assistant.” Trudy says, gesturing to herself.

“And I’m working with the engineering department at Gill’s bank.” And when she says Gill’s bank, she literally means that. It’s not the bank that he works at, it’s the bank branch that he runs, that he is vested in. Hence him being a millionaire.

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