Page 42

If he was surprised I knew who he was, he didn't show it. He simply smiled, the expression not reaching his eyes, and slid onto the barstool next to mine.
"Mr. Sousa," he replied, accepting the bourbon Andy poured. "I thought it was time we met face to face."
I took a deliberate sip of my drink, letting the silence stretch uncomfortably. Ashley had slipped into the back, likely calling Jono.Good girl.
"I was rather distressed to hear of the wedding and to not receive an invitation," Coombes said, swirling his bourbon. "Of course, we both know that this is simply a financial arrangement."
"I don't owe you explanations," I replied, my voice deceptively calm despite the rage bubbling beneath the surface. This was the man who'd tried to have Matty killed. Twice. The man who'd been stealing from him for years. The man who'd set him up with Degrassi.
And the man who'd ruined my parents' lives.
Not that he would ever find the connection. I started going by my mother’s maiden name before even enlisting as a tribute to Gran, and I knew Digger had buried my old records and made the name change official when we’d hatched the revenge plan.
Coombes chuckled, the sound like ice cracking. "I admire directness. So let me be direct as well." He reached into his jacket and pulled out a checkbook. "Name your price."
I raised an eyebrow. "My price?"
"To walk away from Matthew," he clarified, uncapping an expensive fountain pen. "This marriage is obviously a sham. I'm willing to make it worth your while to end it."
I took another sip of bourbon, letting him stew. "And why would you think that?"
"Please," Coombes scoffed. "A biker marrying a boy like Matthew? It's transparent. He's using you to get his trust fund, and you're using him for..." he waved his hand dismissively, "whatever it is you want. Money, I assume."
"You seem to think you know a lot about me," I observed coldly.
His eyes narrowed fractionally. "Matthew has always been... impulsive. Emotional. He needs guidance."
"And that's what you're providing? Guidance?" I asked dryly.
Coombes blustered. “He has shown time and time again he is financially irresponsible. He refuses to meet with his deceased parents’ financial advisor, or even consult one of his own. I have plenty of money, as I’m sure you are aware. I just don’t want Matthew to drink or snort his fortune away.”
I thought of what a lightweight Matty was with alcohol. I wanted to rearrange Coombes’s supercilious face but landing myself in jail wouldn't help Matty.
He had to know both attempts had been unsuccessful, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he assumed that as a biker I was treating it as business as usual.
Although… Was this my chance? If I pretended to be tempted this might be my way in. I leaned back, pretending to consider his words. "And if any of that were true, what makes you think I would walk away?"
"Look, I'm a businessman," Coombes pressed, sensing an opening. "I understand transactions. Matthew found someone willing to marry him to fulfill the trust conditions. I'm simply offering a better deal."
I gave him a long, measured look. "What exactly are you proposing?"
Coombes smiled thinly, clearly believing he'd hooked me. "Five hundred thousand dollars. Cash. Tax-free. You divorce Matthew, sign an NDA about the arrangement, and walk away."
"Five hundred thousand," I repeated, as if considering. "That's a lot of money."
"More than you'd make in several years, I imagine," he said with barely disguised condescension. "And considerably less hassle than staying married to a troubled young man for two years."
I took another sip of bourbon, letting the liquid burn down my throat while I imagined all the ways I'd like to make this man suffer. "Troubled how?"
Coombes waved his hand dismissively. "Matthew has always been... difficult. Emotional problems. Substance issues. He's been in and out of therapy since he was a child." He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Between us, he's not entirely stable. Has these childish episodes. It's embarrassing, really."
My fingers tightened around my glass. The casual way he spoke about Matty made my blood boil. "Sounds like you don't think much of your godson."
"I've done my best with him," Coombes sighed, the picture of put-upon nobility. "His parents, God rest their souls, left me with quite the burden. But I've always looked out for his best interests."
"By ruining his chance of a relationship a second time?"
Coombes's expression flickered—surprise, then rapid recalculation. "I don't know what nonsense Matthew has been filling your head with, but I assure you, I've only ever wanted what's best for him."