Enemy's Secret

After the waiter has left and Maddy has gone to the bathroom - insisting on going by herself - I turn to Landon. "Sorry about that."

He just chuckles. "Don't be."

Under the table, he squeezes my hand again, and this time he doesn't let it go.

The warmth of his hand goes right through me. It sends a fluttery feeling through me, one that makes me want to tap my toes along to the peppy song the small orchestra's playing in the far corner, or just grin like an idiot at nothing at all.

Maybe this is the 'Disney Magic' they talk about? The one I dismissed as a marketing ploy, or a park goer's hollow praise.

Whatever it is, it's really gone to my head. That, or the $500 bottle of wine Landon insisted on getting us.

It's making me feel like anything is possible. Like Landon is here for good. Like him and me, no matter our differences, can actually work. Like I could tell him right now.

"Landon," I say suddenly.

Because - screw it - I should tell him. Screw playing it safe. He's here now, with us, he's proven himself half a dozen times. Maybe this isn't the right time, but the truth is, there never will be a right time.

"Yeah?" he says.

His phone rings.

I pause.

"It's fine," he says. "Can't be important." His hazel-eyed gaze says, not as important as you.

But when it rings again, I can't. Maybe it can wait for tonight. Soon, at least.

"Check it," I urge him, and he does.

Frowning, he's about to reject the call when he glances at the caller ID. His face drops and he picks up. "Hey. What's up?"

A few words from whoever's on the other end, and his scowl deepens.

He gets up, walks off, still talking, his forgotten water still clenched in his hand.

Clearly, he's just found out something bad.

Really bad.

Chapter 22

Landon

"We lost the case," Dirk says over the phone. "I'm sorry, Landon." I can hear him shuffling papers in the background. Part of me wants to punch him, to yell.

Or even just laugh.

It feels impossible, getting this news in this place right now. There's too many happy people at pretty tables. Things have been going too well lately.

Fuck.

"Just like that?" I say. "What about the trial?"

"Their key witness finally came forward," Dirk says, with a tone of shrugged shoulders. Remind me to get Storm Inc. a new fucking lawyer. In fact, I know just the one. "She was a bit reluctant to come forward before, naturally. But she's admitted to it all now. She accepted a bribe for the idea, and she has the documents to prove it. Her testimony will sink our case."

This is the kind of thing I'd expect fucking Nolan to say, not our fucking lawyer.

"Come on," I growl, "she can't be cross-examined? Isn't it your job to sink anything they try throwing at us?"

"It is," Dirk admits. More paper shuffling. "But I'm telling you my professional opinion on this. I can try fighting this with everything we have - but we don't have much. And besides, there's another option, a really good one: Goldtree is offering Storm Inc. a sweet deal. I don't know why, the way I figure it they could get a hell of a lot more out of us, but it's what they're asking. I suggest you take it."

Just like that. One minute everything is OK, we've still got a chance, and the next we don't. Not that the case was going well, per se, but hell, I didn't expect it to turn around like this.

Fucking Dad. Look at the mess you've gotten us in.

I can almost see him now. He'd be leaning on one of these golden gilt pillars with enough bravura to get us through any legal fuck-up.

"What's the deal?" I ask Dirk.

No matter what it is, my brothers won't like it. Fuck, I don't like it myself.

"You pay them a couple of million to shut up and go away, and they will," Dirk says, in the same tone as you use to tell someone they won the lottery. "That's it. It's a damn good deal."

Guess in a way we are winning the lottery with what they're asking.

Especially considering the money our Storm TV show is raking in, it's the best deal we could've hoped for. What's the catch?

"That's it?" I say.

"That's it," he says.

Or so they say.

I'll need to think on this. A lot. Talk to my brothers.

"And the witness?" I ask.

When he tells me the name, I slam the cup of water I hadn't realized I'd taken with me down on a gold-inlaid table. "No way. Can't be."

"I saw the video interview with her myself," Dirk says, his tone going curious. "You know her?"

I press my lips together. No point in telling Dirk shit.

"Want me to tell them we'll take it?" Dirk says, perking up.