I refrain from snorting. Of course, he thinks it’s related to her. My mother may be a bitch, but she’s never made me think she was someone else. He’s the joke. The liar. And I’m the dummy who never questioned it. Instead of correcting him, I nod. “I’ll get over it.”
He steps out of my way and opens the door for me. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Without responding to that, I walk into class and up to my seat next to Sarah. She’s typing away on her cell. I pull mine out of my pocket and pull up breath play. By doing some research, I hope it gets shit off my mind.
CHAPTER THIRTY
RYAT
I WALK INTO the office in downtown Dallas with my lawyer behind me and look around the abandoned space. No one is here this late. It’s after midnight. This is an off-the-books meeting, just like when I was here last time.
Making our way down the long hallway, I hear laughter coming from the back office. Pushing the door open, I step inside to find my father and another man I have come to know well.
“Ryat.” He stands. “Glad you can join us …” He trails off as he sees the man enter behind me.
“Garrett,” my father states, acknowledging our lawyer also standing.
“Mr. Archer.” He nods, holding his briefcase in his hand.
I fall down into a high-back chair next to my father. “I’m the one who called this meeting.” It’s time to iron some shit out. Make sure people understand what I want and that I’m going to get it.
Phil sits back in his chair and sighs.
My father arches a brow at me. “Why are we here, Ryat?” Then he looks at our family attorney that we’ve had since before I was born.
I had already made up my mind after Matt fucked me over while we were in jail. But Blake’s mother’s stunt solidified my thoughts on what needed to be done.
“I’m guessing it’s because of my wife. She’s had plenty to say about you today.” Phil Anderson relaxes in his seat. “Said you put your hands on her—choked her and threw her out of the apartment.”
“I did. After she slapped your daughter.”
His jaw sharpens, slapping his hand on the desk. “She didn’t mention that part.”
“Why am I not surprised?” I grunt. That bitch will never touch Blake again. “I’m here to make an offer,” I say, getting to business, raising my hand to Garrett.
Silence falls over the room. The last time I was in New York, my father asked me how much I’d pay to beat out Matt. I never gave him a definitive answer because I wasn’t quite sure. Now I am.
Garrett places the briefcase on Phil’s desk and opens it up, pulling out a set of papers.
Mr. Anderson puts his glasses on and reads over it. “I don’t understand—”
“Five hundred thousand.” I interrupt him, so he doesn’t have to search for it.
He clears his throat, pulling his glasses off, and looking at me. “The Winstons …”
“Fuck the Winstons,” I snap. There is no signed contract that states Blake has to marry Matt. I know, I did my homework to make sure. “I want her.” He already handed her to me once, ordering I make her my chosen one. I didn’t think this would be difficult, but I came prepared just in case.
He tilts his head to the side. “For how long exactly?”
“Garrett,” I order, and he pulls out another set of papers and lays them on the man’s desk.
Placing his glasses back on his face, Mr. Anderson picks them up and starts reading them over as well.
“Marriage,” I say simply.
My father doesn’t interject, which means he’s given this some thought and isn’t going to fight me on this. But I don’t think he understands what this means. It’s not a temporary fix. I will marry Blake, and she will be my wife—forever. I will not be marrying Cindy
Phil looks up at me through his dark lashes. “And the agreement with …”
“Did you sign an agreement with the Winston’s?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“Of course not.” He snorts. “That was my wife’s doing.”
Exactly. “It’s just a verbal agreement.” I shrug. “Not like he can sue you over it. And if it was that important to you, you wouldn’t have forced my hand to pick her as my chosen in the first place.”
He looks away from me and stares down at a picture of Blakely that sits on his desk. Picking it up, he takes in a deep breath.
I sit up straighter, placing my elbows on my knees. “The Winstons’ empire is crumbling. Kimberly—Matt’s mother—went to your wife trying to strike a deal.” But none of us know what the deal was exactly. “They came to the Andersons hoping to forge your legacy with theirs. To save it. Not the other way around.” Matt’s father wants to fly on the back of Blakely’s family. Marrying her, he gets to help run this business. One day her father will retire, and Matt will take over a hundred percent, making sure to keep the Winstons a part of the one percent. “I don’t want your company,” I add. “Whatever you decide to leave her when you’re dead is hers. I just want Blakely.” I’m not sure what she would do with her father’s company. She’s an only child, so I’m guessing she’d sell it. As far as I know, she’s never worked for him before.