Page 17 of Ruthless Heir

The last five hours have been just like old times where the three of us would get lost in a game of pool and forget the world.

At times like these we’re just three guys hanging out. Brothers.

Hunter and I took Luc for a brother when he came to live with us after his parents died. So we’ve been close like this for the last twenty-one years.

After a tense day at work with my father, God knows I needed a break from reality that only Hunter and Luc could provide.

Although my father and I left the conversation the other night with a mutual agreement, his cold-shouldered, standoffish behavior today made me feel like the villain. I could only imagine he must have been pissed at me because of the scandal—which is pretty much under the rug now.

I’ve never had any problems with my father. I didn’t think I would start now after thirty years.

Hunter pulls the cue back and that effortless confidence which has earned him the nickname of the Wall Street Shark starts to solidify on his face. I can almost feel the shot coming before he makes it, the kind of move he’s always pulled off whether we’re in a high-stakes game or making millions on a risky trade.

The next sound we hear is the cue meeting the ball. It echoes through the hall as the cue ball shoots forward and connects with the striped eleven, sending it on a perfect trajectory toward the corner pocket.

The eleven drops with a satisfying thud and the cue ball keeps moving, gliding powerfully across the table like it’s got a mind of its own—just like Hunter.

He straightens with a satisfied smirk on his face and slicks his dark blond hair back, then he watches the rest of the scene play out with Luc and me.

Hunter doesn’t have to say anything. He knows the game belongs to him.

All we hear next isclick, clack, clack, clack, as each ball makes its way across the table and down into the waiting pockets.

Seconds later all we’re looking at is the green felt on the table, cleared of all the balls.

Hunter wins again.

“Pay up, losers,” he chimes, snapping his fingers like he’s got a tune stuck in his head.

“Why do you always win when we play here?” Luc frowns, slapping down five hundred dollars on the table. He’s allowed his dark curls to grow out, so he looks like he did back in high school.

“I win because I’m good and you suck.”

“Are you kidding me? If there's one thing I’m supposed to be good at it’s anything that involves a ball and a stick.”

I can’t argue with Luc. He’s right. He’s an all-star NHL player and captain of the New York Hawks.

“Different game, different strokes, my man.” Hunter laughs, throwing a punch into Luc’s shoulder.

Luc rolls his eyes at him. I do, too. Sometimes my brother is too cocky for his own good. It’s fine, though. Every dog has their day.

I’m just bitter because I’m in a rut. I can’t escape the way I want to.

“What’s your excuse,littlebrother? Why did you suck more than usual tonight?”

I hate it when he calls melittlelike that, and Luc always smirks. I’m barely three years younger than the two of them.

“I’ve got too much shit on my mind.” I tap the side of my head and hand over my five hundred dollars.

Hunter counts the money like a bookie who’s just been paid. From the conquering smile spread across his face you wouldn’t think he’s one of the richest men in the world and CEO of a renowned global company.

His thing is he likes winning, whether it’s one dollar or a million. I swear he gets off on it. He’s the same with everything.

Last year the two of us had a bet that Luc and his wife, Autumn, would be pregnant by the end of the year. He lost to me because I knew they’d want to enjoy each other a little more before they had kids. Sure, it was only for a few more months, but I was right. It was Hunter and Luna who got pregnant first.

Marriage and babies have been all the talk for over a year, so I stick out like a moldy, gangrene thumb. I can’t even pretend to be interested in either topic because my family knows me too well.

“One more game?” Hunter beams, leaning against the table.

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