Page 36 of Without Fail

“No, no,” Marshal said, glaring at Tristan.

“That’s a very bad word and I shouldn’t have said it,” Tristan told his brother.

Aspen giggled and everyone in the room broke out in laughter.

Ryker kept busy after leaving Cohen and Aspen with Marshal.

He had to keep moving. If he stopped, then he’d be tempted to…to what?

Yell? Punch Marshal? Probably both.

It wasn’t the first time they’d disagreed on something, but fuck…this was a big something, not your run of the mill every day something like a hangnail.

Damn it.

He strode past the entrance to the greenhouse and stopped to backtrack. Shoving open the door, he stepped inside and shut it behind him before walking to the glass door at the end of the hallway.

Pressing his hands to the glass, he gazed into the room at the array of lush greenery beyond.

The room-sized terrarium had been his grandfather’s pride and joy and he flipped his key card against the electronic lock and stepped inside before quietly shutting the door.

The silence there was of a different kind. Not total silence because the plants were alive. He could feel them breathing and sometimes he imagined he could hear them whispering to him.

Filled to the brim with rainforest and compatible plants of all kinds, he walked among the lush greenery.

This room was his sanctuary.

It was the place where Marshal had become more than just his father’s employee. Here was where they’d become friends.

Years ago, he had escaped to this very room just to get away from Jeff Barclay. The tycoon had been well-connected in oil and his father, Robert Langston, had high hopes of investing and making a killing. The plan had been to marry him and Jeff Barclay’s daughter, Stella. Only Barclay had ulterior motives.

Ryker hadn’t been opposed to marrying Stella, but the woman’s father couldn’t keep his hands to himself.

Taking every opportunity to touch him when others were not looking, Ryker had had enough. He couldn’t imagine the hell he’d live if he had married Stella and lived in the Barclay mansion. Something sickening swam in the fucker’s eyes and Ryker knew in his gut it would only be a matter of time before Barclay raped him.

When he’d told his father about Barclay inappropriately putting his hands on him, he was called a liar.

One night he had finally had enough after being felt up by Barclay.

All hell broke loose at the dinner table when Ryker finally snapped.

“I will not marry Stella and nothing anyone says can make a difference in my decision.”

Robert Langston slammed up from the dinner table, pounded his palms on the surface, and glared at him, his face red blotchy face.

“You will marry her.”

Stella pressed a hand to her chest, looking aghast. Mr. Barclay sat with a smarmy smile on his face, studying the last bit of wine he held in a glass.

“Iwillnot,” Ryker said. “And if you persist, I’ll walk out of this room and you’ll never see me again.”

“Like hell, you will!” his father bellowed.

His mother hurried up from her seat and pressed a hand on his dad’s arm. The man violently shook her off and she stumbled against the table.

“Ma!” Ryker scowled at his father and rushed over to gently take his mother’s arm. Giving his father a death glare, Ryker guided his mother out of the room.

“If you’re really opposed to this marriage, then don’t do it,” she whispered as he took her to her rooms.

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