Page 50 of Beck and Call

With her, I was jealous and possessive. Those weren’t traits I particularly admired in myself. When her mood started to shift, she would actively provoke me by flirting with other guys, or worse. We would scream and fight, then fuck like the world was burning down around us.

Time had softened my edges, but I'd never be more than a man feigning refinement. When it came to Evie, I found I was fighting my instincts more and more every day. For the first time in two decades I felt the same wildness taking over me.

The only difference was she didn’t know that side of me existed. She didn’t try and provoke me to react with my fists instead of my brain. Not that it changed much. I still hated when I saw a man look at her. Actually, it was worse now. I wanted nothing more than to sweep her away to a remote location and keep her there until I knew she was mine. Preferably until she had my ring on her finger.

I didn’t know how long I would have stood staring out the window, lost in my thoughts, if my phone didn't ring. It reminded me Evie was at home by herself. At least, she was if my main driver, Rick, brought her up to the apartment and helped her settle in. In other words, made sure she made it all the way into my place and didn't leave.

The phone rang again, and I rushed to get it in case it was about her. After Friday night, I'd probably jump every time my phone rang for the rest of my life.

I grabbed my phone and saw my dad's name on the screen. I was tempted to ignore his call and head home. Then I remembered I sent the car ahead with Evie. I could hear him out if he were willing to give me a ride home.

"Hello," I answered.

"Beckett, I need to talk to you," he sighed, and I knew this wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation.

"I'm assuming this conversation can't happen over the phone?" Calling for an Uber was sounding like a much better option than handling whatever problem he was about to drop in my lap.

"I'd prefer to do it in person. I'm nearly at the office now. Can we go have a drink?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose and tried to shove down the urge to snap at him and demand he just tell me. There was always a proper way to do everything. Being proper wasted a lot of fucking time.

"I'll be down in a minute," I said and hung up the call.

He waited for me in front of the building, and I slid into the passenger seat. Ever since he retired, he took to driving himself everywhere. When he ran the company, he always said that the time stuck in traffic was wasted time he could be working.

"Can we go get a drink?" he asked.

"You're driving," I pointed out.

"Right, maybe dinner then?"

"Dad, spit it out. I'm anxious to get home to Evie," I admitted.

He smiled and nodded his head. "Good. I'm glad you found her. She seems to make you happy. You deserve happiness after–"

"Can we not go down that road, please? What did you need to tell me?"

"One of the idiot associates at the law firm I have always used thought they needed to contact my nieces and nephew to discuss with them the possibility they may inherit shares of the company."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me!" I exploded.

"There's no call for that kind of language," he lectured me.

"I'd say this is a good fucking excuse for it. Why would we need to contact them to let them know about something that will never come to pass?" I demanded.

"Precisely what I asked my primary attorney. The associate has been fired. That was a slip that cannot be tolerated. Most of my siblings’ children have reached out and given you their support and said they'd like an invitation to the wedding. But–"

"Most of them still have the businesses their parents inherited. How did Franklin react?" I asked.

My dad's youngest sister, Adela, lost the company she inherited when her husband put it up for collateral against his real estate investments. He came from an old money family that had less and less money as the generations passed, but still felt entitled to the lifestyle. Turned out he inherited not only an inflated sense of self-worth, but poor business acumen as well. He went from moderately wealthy to deep in the red within a year once the housing market burst.

Adela turned to my father to bail them out of the hole her husband dug. My father agreed, if she could get her husband to agree to a post nuptial agreement preserving her assets to remain in her name only. He refused, and my father didn't help them. He and Adela haven't spoken since. The last I heard from my cousin, Franklin, he was attending public school and blamed us for his family’s financial difficulties.

"I believe he asked for a copy of the documents being drawn up and retained counsel. However, since the paperwork wasn't finalized he didn't get anything."

I ground my molars. All of this could have been avoided. "You know none of this had to be happening. All you had to do was not place archaic stipulations on my inheriting the company."

"And let you continue to torture yourself at the bedside of Callie Thorn?"

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