Page 38 of Ruthless Heir

Today felt like it was several lifetimes rolled into one.

I loosen my tie and kick back on the chair with my beer in one hand and a cigar in the other.

As I smoke and drink I mull over my plans for the week that I’m not looking forward to. When I get past this finding a wife thing my focus needs to be on Nolan.

I need to get him out of the picture completely. Once I get rid of him it should become easier to remove his father, too. Finding dirt on Nolan will lead to Nigel because that shit will have been orchestrated by him.

Nolan is Nigel’s puppet. Nolan isn't clever enough to think of his own accord. But Nigel is. Nigel is the mastermind behind all of this.

It's clear they want to push me out of the company. The fucked-up thing is, it would be easy. Nolan and I have the same skill set and our fathers are friends. That's a deadly cocktail in itself.

On top of that, my father is bound by all these terms and conditions set out by my grandfather for the company that prevent him from intervening even if he wanted to.

Grandfather saw the company as a living person, never a thing or a simple entity. He set the kind of rules that you would with a child, to make sure it’s taken care of if you’re no longer around.

The rumble of a motorcycle engine cuts into my thoughts.

It gets louder and I realize it's actually on my property.

But who could that be? I have motorcycles. I'm used to hearing my own. Hunter has a motorcycle, too. So do a couple of our friends but I’m not expecting any of them.

The sound gets closer and I swivel my head to the left just in time to see a black motorcycle blazing up the driveway. Riding itis a guy dressed in full black leather with visor-style sunglasses and long black hair. A blonde woman is glued to his back, wearing his helmet.

A blonde woman who looks likeHarper.

The sudden realization that it'shermakes me drop my cigar and I push to my feet, staring at them open-mouthed.

They careen around the path and stop in front of the house. Where I’m standing they should be able to see me but they don’t.

The bike rolls to a stop and Harper gets off.

My eyes unashamedly move straight to her hot little body dressed in a pair of short-short denim shorts and a tank top that shows off way, way too much cleavage.

She pulls off the helmet, unleashing her long blonde hair that makes her look like an erotic mermaid.

She hands the helmet to the guy and he gets off the bike and looks her up and down like he wants to eat her.

He’s as tall as me and built like a wrestler. Or a Viking warrior. A full beard covers his chin and tattoos cover his neck and the parts of his arms and fingers that I can see outside his biker jacket.

I swear some of those tattoos look like Russian Mafia prison tattoos but I’m too far away to confirm that.

He looks like the kind of guy who would be in the mafia or into extreme sports. I know guys like that. They’re all dangerous but the difference here is that I

knowthem. I don’t know this guy.

He says something that makes Harper laugh. Any second now I expect her to twirl her hair and do that annoying fake flirty laugh women sometimes do to sound sexy.

She laughs again but it sounds real. I don’t know why but it gets to me.

Maybe because I haven’t seen her look so happy or laugh like that in years. She barely cracked a smile with me the other day when we were eating dinner.

She cocks her head and the two start joking around.

My blood heats when he reaches out and touches her face then traces a line from her cheek down to her neck and wraps a lock of her hair around his finger.

Who the fuck is he?

I'm aware that Harper has plenty of friends from the past here in New York, but seeing this guy jars me. This is no ordinary guy. And he’s not afriend.

---