Page 122 of The Guy Who Stole My Ranch

Matthew Grant had pulled out all the stops. We were meeting in his all-glass conference room which had been stocked with the most expensive charcuterie board spread in the city.

The attendants included myself, my father, and our lawyer, Adam Fowler. Matthew had his lawyer, his HR representative—a severe looking woman who was more bones than anything else—and Katrina Smith.

Even I could tell that they’d dressed Ms. Smith down for the occasion. With the proper makeup and a more flattering outfit she would be considered quite beautiful. However, clothed in the plain and somewhat boxy pant suit and with her long hair straightened and back in a headband she was only passably pretty.

I’d have to tell Courtney.

My sister was outside the building, fuming. She’d ridden in with us, mostly so my father and I wouldn’t come to blows because he didn’t like the way we’d worded his apology and had been denied access to Matthew Grant’s headquarters.

Matthew’s lawyer, Richard, who was almost finished reading the accusations against my father, sounded as bored as I felt.

Distracted might be a better word for it. Ever since I’d had to leave Brooke part way through breakfast, I’d been wishing I could spend the day with her instead of being cooped up with a bunch of businessmen who wanted to tear one another apart.

“Do you understand these accusations?” Richard asked as he took off his glasses.

My father blinked. I sat across from him and gave him a stern look I’d learned from my mother.

My father cleared his throat and nodded. “I understand.”

Matthew Grant huffed. Ms. Smith shifted in her seat as if uncomfortable. The HR woman frowned.

Adam sat still and watched everyone else. I knew he’d have more than a few things to say at the end of this meeting. The way the accusation was worded made it sound like my father had committed a dozen infractions against Ms. Smith, and while I knew my father had it in him, he was never this clumsy with his vices.

Something else was going on.

Richard continued. “We’re here so Mr. Harris can issue an apology for his behavior. This in no way absolves him of his actions, so we…”

I let the man’s voice drone on in the background of my mind. It would be a few minutes before we got to my father’s portion of the show.

“You aren’t the only one in your family whose eyes stray,” Matthew Grant said suddenly.

I blinked and found the older man looking at me.

“William here is apparently just as bad as his father.” Matthew sat back and waved a hand. “Just ask his ex. They were only together for a week before he was looking at other women.”

My hands, which were thankfully under the table, curled into fists. I’d asked Courtney to keep me updated on Carlotta, but I might have to take a more active part in shutting her down.

“We’re not here to talk about William,” Adam said smoothly and in a tone that clearly stated that whatever came out of Matthew’s mouth was a waste of time.

Richard nodded and turned to my father. “Kevin, Ms. Smith is ready to hear your apology.”

My father grunted, straightened, sucked in his gut, and started talking.

The words were flawless, thanks to an hour with Courtney and me going through every single syllable to make sure nothing could be misconstrued. If our father delivered them as we’d discussed, we should be out of here in less than thirty minutes. If not, we would have a problem.

I’d worried that my father would ignore our advice and do whatever he wanted, but instead he stuck to the script, delivered the apology with as much sincerity as he was capable of, and sat back when he was finished.

Richard nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Harris.”

Matthew scoffed and jerked a thumb at Adam. “Did he spoon feed those words into your mouth?”

Adam, who was one of the best corporate lawyers I’d ever known, ignored the jab and typed a note for later.

Richard opened his mouth to speak again, but Matthew interrupted him. “Ms. Smith is going to need some time to consider this apology.”

Richard frowned, which made me wonder if his boss had changed his plan.

Matthew stood. “Thank you for your time. If you’ll send me a written copy of the apology, we will get back to you next week.”

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