It all makes sense now. I lay my head on his shoulder.
“I hope he didn’t find out Beatrice is in Hawaii.”
“Same. I can’t help but think this is the calm before the storm. It’s about to go down,” he says darkly.
“Your parents are walking trauma. Not sure there’s any ‘storm’ coming, it just feels that way because you’ve had so many bad experiences. I bet he’s given up and moved on to the next scheme.”
“Hope you’re right,” he says.
“If something happens, we’ll get through it together,” I say, searching his deep, dark eyes. “I promise.”
“That’s the thing. You shouldn’t have to 'get through' this. A million dollars can’t be worth it.”
I grin. “It’s a million and a half, and I want my money pretty bad.”
He lips turn up in this kissable pitchfork.
“If you backed out, I’d still pay you. You’ve definitely gone above and beyond the call of duty.”
I turn in his lap so I can see that gaze, sharp as a ceremonial dagger. “If you canceled the contract, we’d still get through whatever comes next. Together. You’re stuck with me now, bossypants.”
His smile warms me faster than the balmy sun crisscrossing the office.
“I have no idea why a woman as beautiful, talented, and lively as you wants to be mixed up with a Wardhole—or my insane family—but sometimes I’m glad you do.”
I wrap my arms around his neck, proving just how mixed up I want to be.
He kisses me, but his body feels stiff, almost rigid.
I pull away and slide a hand over his face.
“You’re still tense.”
He nods. “You should probably get up before someone sees us like this. Compromising positions feed a lot of gossip.”
“Oh, right, because sitting in my betrothed’s lap is the scandal of the century. Should I text it to that Osprey guy?”
He laughs, but doesn’t argue. His cell rings, he accepts the call, and puts it on speaker.
“Hey, Ross, how are you?”
“I’m good, but son, I have some bad news. Someone’s out to get you,” Winthrope says.
My heart skips a few beats.
“Get me? What do you mean?” Ward demands.
“It has to be one of your competitors, I’m sure. It came in an unmarked package and without any hint who sent it. I can’t tell you who to sue, but I’d get an attorney and investigator going on a libel case right away.”
Well, crap. Apparently I was wrong. A storm is coming and the feral look on Ward’s face says he’s ready to barrel straight into the headwind.
“Can you be more specific, please? What was in this package?” Ward asks.
“The packet of info claims your engagement is a scam to con me into thinking you’ve grown up.” For a second, it’s dead silent until Winthrope continues. “Don’t worry. I didn’t give a second thought to that outrageous nonsense. I’ve seen you two together. You’d both have to be professional actors to bamboozle me. I saw the love in your eyes, and that fine young lady hangs on your every word.”
I’m doubled over with the sigh of relief hissing out of me.
Ward looks like he’s ready to find whodunit and skin them alive.
“Mr. Winthrope, thank you. I deeply appreciate you passing this along,” he says coldly.
“Certainly. I just wanted you to know. I’m probably not the only client the vultures are trying to poach. I can forward you the packet if it will help you get to the bottom of this. It’s simply diabolic that someone would use the transition going on in your firm right now to swipe clients. A changeover caused by a wonderful, talented woman’s health slipping, of all things. If you do find out who it is, tell me. I’ll have someone this unethical blacklisted. If they’ll do it to you today, there’s no telling who’ll wind up in front of the firing squad tomorrow.”
“Absolutely. Thank you again. Forwarding the info would be very helpful,” Ward says, his fist clenched so hard in front of him his knuckles are bone-white.
“Consider it done. I hope the next time we talk it’s under better circumstances. Mrs. Winthrope wants to know where Miss Holly registered for the wedding. Send me a message when you find out.”
“Of course. Thank you,” Ward says.
Winthrope cuts the call.
Then it happens.
Ward slams his jackhammer fist against his desk so ferociously I jump, pressing a hand to my drumming heart.
“Who...who do you think it could be?” I ask, cringing because I already have a good guess.
“The six-foot pile of crap I call dad. Who else?” he growls, before his face softens. “Sorry. I knew it was coming, but having it dropped on my head...”
“Are you sure, Ward?”
“Who else would it be?” He’s quiet for a minute. “Mother? She’s not this bloodthirsty.”
“If you know it’s your parents, why did you ask him to forward the information?”
“Evidence. Plus, I have to keep him thinking it’s from a competitor. Otherwise, he’ll run for the hills.”