Page 11 of With This Ring

When he dropped the news that I would be entering an alliance with Carter fucking Whitlock via marriage, I figured I’d have to move out of this place. But I didn’t think Pop would sound so fucking gleeful about it. I can almost hear the note of elation that I would no longer be residing under his roof. It hurts more than I’d like to admit.

“Why are you doing this?” I ask.

He scoffs, pushing past me to exit his office. “This isn’t about you, Kaison. It’s about protecting this family and its name. You’ll do your duty to this family and form this truce. Besides, other than being the heir to the Whitlock family, Carter is an accountant. He can be an asset to our business and since he’ll be family, he’ll have our best interest. Especially at that construction company you insist on holding. It needs an overhaul from what I hear. Stop being stubborn and sign it over so I can make it better. More fucking profitable if you’re going to waste your time on it.”

My construction company is very profitable, and Pop damn well knows it. We just landed a contract on a strip mall at the edge of Yorkley, the next town over. Not only does it do well legitimately, but I’m able to launder money through the company and we get it back clean.

No matter what I try to do to better this family, Pop will shit all over it. He tries to minimize everything I do, just so he can make it seem like he carries this family on his back. If not for me, we wouldn’t have half the businesses we do or the connections we have. Pop is good at what he does—running this family—but he lacks severely in diplomacy. I’ve undercut several families to get our connections, and none have been the wiser. If Pop were doing the negotiating, we’d be the weakest family in the area.

“I’m keeping my business,” I practically growl. This is a fight Pop and I have often. He’s probably hoping to wear me down with his persistence. “My accountants are fine. I don’t need him.”

“You might not, but you’ll use him anyway. You’ll strengthen this family. Make that Whitlock boy fall for you, adopt a kid or whatever your kind do and tie him to you forever.” I hiss at his words but swallow the sound.

This is fucking bullshit, but there’s nothing I can do or say to get him to change his mind. “What if I say no?”

Pop turns around, a stormy look on his face. “There is no fucking saying no, Kai. I gave my word. You will not fucking embarrass me.”

He put me in a terrible position. If I duck out on his arrangement, his reputation and that of our family will be damaged. No one will want to do business with him, thinking he won’t hold up his end of the bargain. So, I’m forced to do his bidding. If I’m to take over the family, I need our reputation intact, not be the reason it’s in tatters.

I’m not sure why Pop thinks I’ll be able to run both the St. Clair and the Whitlock families on my own. Just as Carter wouldn’t be able to run the St. Clair family. I’ll be an outsider. It’ll take years, decades even, for that family to trust me. I’m not sure what delusions he has, but he should abandon that shit now.

Shaking my head, I say, “I’ll do it, but only until this threat is neutralized. After that, we’re divorcing, and I’m done with that family.”

Pop stares at me, his face reddening because I dare negotiate with him. But it’s my life. It’s for the family, but my life matters too. I won’t be stuck in a marriage with my enemy for hypothetical wars. The one on the horizon is the only one I have to worry about. After that, my life will be my own.

Through clenched teeth, Pop says, “Five years. Five. By that time, I’ll be retired, and you can do what the fuck you want. But if there is a war because of your stupid fucking need for independence, you’ll be on your own. I’ll snatch the reins from you, so you don’t ruin everything I’ve built.”

I incline my head. That’s as good as I’ll get. I’ve worked too hard not to run this family when he retires. I’ll do what I have to do to get my birthright. “Fine.”

“Now let’s go. We need to meet with the Whitlocks to discuss this wedding. It has to be big, and it has to be public. It might give whoever is fucking with our shit some pause and make them think twice about crossing us.”

I grunt and follow him out of the house.

We arrive at the Azure Rose Casino forty-five minutes later. I grin when I look over at the craps table. That was a good scrap. There’ll be no more of that since we’re probably supposed to be a happy couple or some shit.

The elevator whisks us to the top floor, the glass doors gliding open when it stops. Carter’s guard pushes off the wallwhen he sees us, his face set in a mask of indifference. I bristle at his lack of acknowledgment. “Good afternoon,” I mutter, sending him a sharp smile.

He grunts and says, “Follow me. They’re waiting in the conference room.” He walks away without seeing if we follow. I look at Pop and I’m not surprised to see a flash of anger cross his face. We’re the same in that regard—any dismissals are taken as personal slights.

Pop grabs the man’s arm and before he can turn around with some bullshit, places a gun to his temple. Pop steps closer, and they stand nose to nose. “Make that the last fucking time you show me your back in such a disrespectful way. If not, I will put you down and pay for your shitty pine box. Understand me?”

To his credit, the guard doesn’t even flinch. He stares my father down with an almost bored expression. Like a gun to his head means nothing. “You feel better? Feel like you’ve marked your territory?”

Pop snarls and clicks the safety off. “Not yet. Your blood on the wall might give me a twinge of satisfaction.”

The guard smiles—more of a grimace—and says, “Do what you gotta do. But you’ll still be needed in the conference room.”

“That’s enough, Gavin,” comes from down the hall. Carter steps closer to us and crosses his arms over his chest. “We gonna do this or what?”

Pop and the guard—Gavin—stare each other down, neither willing to back off. I watch, hoping Pop will splatter his blood across the wall. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him work.

But I’m sure the implications of the truce being voided if he does looms large, because he clicks the safety back on his gun and puts it in the holster. “Yeah, we’re gonna do this. But he comes nowhere near our discussion.” Pop points to Gavin with disdain.

“Go, Gavin. We’ll talk later,” Carter says in a hard voice.

Gavin drags his eyes from Pop and meets Carter’s. “You got it, boss.” He saunters down the hall, head held high.

“This way,” Carter says, glaring at me before he looks at Pop. “Dad is waiting.”

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