Page 8 of Sweet Nothings

I snort. “Right.”

Roe snaps her head in my direction, her eyes glaring. “Where does your contempt come from? I get it. They’re bad, but I think you’re being a little over the top. You could at least practicesomeself-restraint. We’re at a funeral, for God’s sake.”

I attempt to hide behind my nearly empty glass. My cheeks flame red. The twisting sensation in my stomach grows. I seriously need to get a grip.

No one knows the reason for my contempt of the Hardings, not even my sister. It runs deeper than their disgusting business tactics and lack of moral compass.

But my hatred for Lennon Harding is one I keep buried deep in my chest.

“Regardless of how or why you feel this way about them,” Frederick starts, stuffing his hands inside his black slacks. “We can’t afford to lose our relationship with this family. Or others in this room. We aren’t here for a funeral.”

Of course we aren’t.

“Why? Is everything okay?” Roe asks him.

I want to leave this conversation, but I can’t. My feet are glued to the floor, catching sight of the man entering the room, followed by his two younger brothers.

“We’re fine,” Frederick answers Roe, unconvincingly. “But I won’t lie in saying our accounts are dwindling. Since Kellan went to prison two years ago for his embezzlement charges, and what he did to cover his tracks by dipping into your trusts, our family name and reputation have been tarnished. Despite what our shareholders and public relations team predicted considering our businesses are completely different, our rebound into this community has been slow at best. Something needs to happen fast if we’re going to fix this.”

“That bad?” Roe scrunches her nose.

“Unfortunately, yes.” Frederick reluctantly nods. His cheeks flush with pink. “I’m afraid our family is living on borrowed money at this point.”

“Oh…” Roe’s voice trails off. She attempts to hide her anger, but the ticking muscle in her jaw gives her away. My chest squeezes. Our older brother Kellan was arrested and chargedwith stealing money from his law partners at another firm and inflating his assets, forever tarnishing our reputation.

A liar to his core.

A traitor to his family.

I want to punch my uncle in his large, round belly for bringing him up. Fury and rage simmer under my skin when remembering how my brother not only stole money from our family’s company, but how he also stole the inheritance our parents left behind for us. Named as executor, he had control of mine and Roe’s trusts until we turned twenty-five. When Roe turned twenty-five and was ready to buy a house with the money our parents left behind, she was shocked to find the account empty. Mine as well.

After he went to prison for his crimes, I used to sit and rack my brain, trying to figure out how or why he made the choices he made. Part of me thinks it was the grief of losing our parents. The other part thinks he was just a selfish asshole, but I don’t think we’ll ever know the full truth. Roe and I haven’t spoken to him since the day of his sentencing.

I eye my uncle, wondering what our tarnished reputation means for my position as junior partner at his firm. From the worried expression in his wrinkled forehead, I’m afraid our family’s once coveted castle is beginning to crumble.

Roe nervously bites on her bottom lip. There is a distant look in her eye that wasn’t there before.

The room slowly grows quieter. What were once loud voices, straining to talk over the other, are now hushed in whispers. One by one, everyone’s attention is directed to the front of the dining hall.

All three Harding brothers move to the front of the room. Each is dressed in a crisp, black suit. The youngest brother, Micah, stands at the end. His hands are shoved into his pockets, and his brown-near-black hair is slicked back. Jude, the middlebrother, stands between Lennon and Micah. With a grinding jaw and a vacant stare in his eyes, I can see he feels the same way I do. He doesn’t want to be here. He has the same look in his eye as if he’s only staying out of obligation.

Then there’s Lennon.

Smug. Stern. Sharp chiseled jaw. Piercing blue eyes. His suit speaks perfectly to the kind of person he is: mysterious, vacant. Where his brother’s at least have a pop of white with their pressed collared shirts, Lennon’s is midnight black.

While he shares the same eyes as his brothers, he’s different in every other way. He’s darker and difficult to read, as if he keeps his secrets buried deep down where he believes no one can see them. Under all the pretenses and displays he puts on for others, I’m convinced he must have a heart. Right? Although, truth be told I’ve never seen it.

The reality is, I’ve tried, and failed miserably, to put my distaste for Lennon Harding aside. At least as much as I could stomach. Last year, his father attempted to rope me into their circle and gain my attention so he could get in on our family’s money. I could see in James’s smug expression that he thought I could be bought.

I should have known better, but I was still an eager law student, determined to create as many business relationships as possible. Naïve is what I truly was. That was the night I learned the truth about the Harding family and the power James had over all of them. Once he tried to hand me over to his son Jude, I realized the truth of why I was there.

I was nothing but a pawn that night. A game. Collateral damage. A piece of meat tossed into the lion’s den. They were ravenous, and I was served on a silver platter for them to feast.

Nothing I’m not already familiar with.

But what stung worse that night than being used as an object, sitting in that booth with James’s arm draped across my shoulders, was the look in his eldest son’s eyes.

Empty. Unaware. Unrecognizable.

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