Yeah, except for Perry. My blood runs cold. If the city seizes Blooms & Baubles, Roger will finally get what he really wants: to exercise control over the son who refuses to live his life according to his father’s vision—and stamp his ex-wife’s cherished business out of existence to boot. That controlling, arrogant bastard.
The rest of the meeting passes by in a blur of strategizing and political talk. At least Frank doesn’t ask for my input again, which I’m grateful for. My stomach is a knot of anger, resentment, and shock, and I only manage a few bites of my Caesar salad when it arrives. Finally, roughly an hour later, the server brings our checks. There are only two, since Roger insisted on paying for my meal along with Frank’s and Devin’s. Part of me wants to refuse—I don’t want to accept a damn thing from this monster. The other part wishes I’d ordered the most expensive thing on the menu, just to stick it to him.
My phone buzzes from inside my bag. Frank is talking to Councilman Truman while Roger signs his credit card receipt, so I slip my cell out and check the notification in my lap. My throat squeezes at the text that appears.
Devin
It’s not what you think. Please, let me explain.
I glance at him; he’s clutching his phone in a white-knuckled grip, his eyes silently pleading. With a glare, I click off my phone and stuff it roughly into my bag.
Pushing back from the table, Councilman Truman stands. “Well, I need to get back to my office. Have your people send an electronic copy of your proposal to my assistant, and I’ll put it on the agenda for the next closed city council session in August.”
“Of course. Devin will see that it’s done,” says Roger, shaking the councilman’s hand.
Devin’s eyes flash as he stares at his father, jaw tense. But even now, he remains silent. A fresh wave of disgust rolls through me, and I ball my hands into fists in my lap.
With a curt nod, Councilman Truman leaves the restaurant. Once he’s gone, Roger swivels to face my boss. “Frank, do you have a few extra minutes? I’d like to talk strategy—”
I clear my throat. “Excuse me, Frank? If you don’t need me for anything else, would you mind if I head back to the office? I’m not feeling well,” I add quietly. It’s not a lie. If I sit here another second longer, there’s a real possibility the revulsion flooding my gut will wind up all over the table.
Frank’s eyebrows pinch together in concern. “I’m sorry to hear that. Please, why don’t you take the rest of the afternoon off?” I begin to protest automatically, but he holds up his hand. “Rest up. We’ll reconnect tomorrow.”
I should keep arguing—insist I’m fine to finish out the day—but I don’t. Instead, I murmur a thank-you, collect my bag from the floor, and walk out without a second glance. I’m not two steps from the restaurant when the door whooshes open behind me.
“Cass, wait,” Devin chokes out, voice strained.
All of the anger, shock, and disgust that has been boiling in my chest the past hour solidifies into a sharp, jagged mass and I whirl on Devin.
“How could you.” My voice is pure ice.
“You don’t understand—” he begins, but I cut him off.
“What don’t I understand? That you’ve been pretending to help Perry with his shop all while plotting with your dad behind his back to take away his business—his home?”
“It’s not like that—”
“How could you do this to him—to your own brother?” Nostrils flaring, I stare at Devin. Even though his features are as familiar to me as my own, for the first time, I feel like I’m looking at a stranger.
He reaches for me, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Please, it’s not what you think. Just let me explain.”
I back away. The thought of him touching me makes my skin crawl. “There’s nothing to explain. We’re done.” Turning on my heel, I march away, skull pounding with every step.
“Cass—” he calls.
“Leave me alone,” I yell.
And he does.
“Devin did what?” Brie freezes with her wineglass halfway to her mouth. Xerxes clicks softly in her lap while a breeze filters through our wood-planked front porch.
“I know. I still can’t believe it.” I top off my own glass with another hefty pour from the half-empty bottle by my feet. When I arrived home after the meeting nearly four hours ago, my head was a roiling mash of emotions, so I forced myself to take a long, calming walk and an even longer bubble bath before settling on the front porch with a bottle of cheap Riesling to drown my sorrows at the socially acceptable hour of five o’clock. Brie took one look at me when she arrived home nearly an hour later, grabbed Xerxes from his cage and a wineglass from the kitchen, and settled in next to me.