Page 70 of Forbidden Fruit

Her eyes soften. "Our home. I like the sound of that."

"So do I." I take her hand across the table. "Which is why I've been thinking?—"

My phone buzzes insistently. Jack's name appears on the screen for the fourth time in eight hours.

"You should probably take that," Becca says, though her expression says otherwise. "He'll just keep calling."

I sigh, standing up. "Enjoy your breakfast. I'll deal with this."

Inside, I answer with a curt, "Jack. It's six-thirty in the morning."

"We need to talk," he slurs. Still drunk from last night, then. "About Becca."

"There's nothing to discuss about Becca," I say, keeping my voice low as I move further into the penthouse, away from the terrace. The marble floor is cool beneath my bare feet.

"She was mine," Jack hisses through the phone. "You stole her."

I clench my jaw, watching the city come alive through the windows. "Becca doesn't belong to anyone, Jack. She made her choice."

"After you manipulated her," he spits. "My own stepfather is fucking my ex."

The crude language makes my blood boil, but I maintain my composure. "I'll be in the office at eight. If you want to have a conversation like adults, meet me there. Sober."

I hang up before he can respond, sliding the phone into my robe pocket. When I return to the terrace, Becca sips her coffee, the morning light gilding down her profile. She looks up, concern etched in her features.

"Everything okay?"

"It will be," I say, sitting back down. "I'm meeting Jack at the office this morning."

She sets down her mug. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"No." I reach for her hand, running my thumb over her knuckles. "This is between Jack and me. It's time we settled things."

"He's not going to just accept this, Clive." She gestures between us. "Us."

"I don't need him to accept it. I just need him to respect it." I bring her hand to my lips. "And to respect you."

After breakfast, I dress carefully in my best charcoal suit—armor for the confrontation ahead. Becca straightens my tie, rising on tiptoes to kiss me.

"Be gentle with him," she says. "He's hurting."

That's Becca—always seeing the best in people, even those who don't deserve it. It's one of the countless reasons I love her.

"I'll try," I promise, though we both know Jack deserves none of my restraint.

When I arrive, the office is quiet, and most of the staff is not due for another hour. I settle behind my desk, reviewing the files my security team compiled—financial records, emails, and text messages—evidence of Jack's betrayal not just of the company but of Becca, too.

He arrives at 8:15, disheveled but semi-sober, his usual arrogance dimmed by bloodshot eyes.

"Close the door," I tell him.

He does, then drops into the chair across from me. "Let's get this over with. How much?"

I raise an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"How much will you pay me to walk away from Becca? To keep quiet about everything?" He leans forward, a smirk playing on his lips. "If you want me to stay away, you’ll need to give me enough for a comfortable life."

I open the folder on my desk, turning it toward him. I watch his face as he realizes what he's looking at.

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