In a Fix (Torus Intercession 2)

He shook his head. “Eric has already decided to go, and Astor and I—that was never going anywhere.”

“Does she know that?”

He nodded.

“So she is your beard.” I’d suspected something was off when Brig had first mentioned Eric, when he’d explained the caretaker’s place in his home. And I had believed that Astor wanted Brig, but I was wrong about that. I had her with the wrong Stanton.

“She’s been a real sport,” he said, his voice stilted.

“When is Eric leaving?” I asked him.

“I don’t––” His voice went low and thready as he clutched the edge of the table. “He said he’d stay as long as I was in danger, but––”

“I have a question,” I said to keep him from spiraling, to return us to calm. “Have you actually spoken to your father or the board about the fact that you’re in love with Eric?”

His eyes were locked on my face.

“I mean, do you know for certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that anyone cares besides you?”

He took a breath. “They would ask me to hide him, and that’s not fair to ask of him. That’s basically what we’re doing now.”

“And you know this because someone told you? Or are you making an assumption?”

“The board will never accept me being gay, and neither will my father.”

“But how do you know?”

“I just know!”

“All right, then,” I said with a shrug.

“All right what?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I told him, leaning back in my chair, getting comfortable again. “What’s a simple choice to me is not for you, and I get that.”

“You think I should just choose Eric.”

“It’s not my place to––”

“I’m asking your opinion.”

“Brig––”

“Croy!” He sprang from his chair and was all nervous motion again, pacing and raking his fingers through his hair until it stood on end.

“Fine,” I retorted, raising my voice to a growl. “You want to know what I think? From reading your file, I know you have a lot of personal wealth that you could use for anything you want, money that no one, not your father or the board of directors, could touch. And yes, you could do a lot of good as the CEO of Stanton-Downey, but it seems to me that you’re a smart man who knows how to get things done. If you went out on your own and did the same things that you already do now—with the added cachet of it being your own assets so you would, in fact, be putting your money where your mouth is—who’s to say what you could accomplish.”

He stopped pacing, his gaze riveted on mine.

“Throwing around company funds isn’t the same as putting your own livelihood on the line for something you believe in.”

He cleared his throat. “No, it’s not.”

I shrugged. “But it’s not my money, it’s not my life, so clearly you have more skin in the game,” I concluded, looking at him, judging him for his weakness, even though it wasn’t fair. Just because money didn’t mean much to me didn’t mean it wasn’t life and death to others. I didn’t have anyone else relying on me or counting on my choices, which could make or break them.

He stopped staring at me and started to pace again, and I could tell he was working things out in his head. It made sense, why he’d never truly dissected his options before. If I hadn’t asked him, he may have never worked it out himself. Astor had no idea Brig was contemplating being disinherited for love. Nolan, had he known, would have championed one outcome only because Brig giving up his place in the Stanton family created a clear path to Astor, as well as his own rise in station. His friends were far too invested in their own lives to weigh in on anyone else’s. And Eric, even if he tried to be fair, wanted Brig, so his opinion was biased. He had no one to turn to, and certainly his parents could not be counted on for the wisdom of Solomon. Brig Stanton was left alone to wrestle with the demons of doubt and fear to blur the way.

But now there was me, and I had already walked this road. I knew the way out. The difference was, I’d lost the money and the status before I was old enough to care. I missed my family—or more accurately, the idea of them—but nothing else.

“What do you know, Croy?” he asked.

I gave him a smile. “What family-ending decisions feel like.”

He took a shaky breath.

“But I was younger and stupider than you, and I didn’t have the connections that I’m sure you do.”

“A lot of those might disappear.”

I tsked at him. “You think? Because yes, I’m sure some companies still care who someone sleeps with, but not as many as you think. Isn’t money the real compelling factor in all business decisions?”