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Today has been a shit show.
On top of the fact that I may have a mild, completely manageable, not-at-all-concerning case of wedding jitters (who the hell even am I?), everyone in my life is being difficult and getting on my last damn nerve.
Starting with Vaughn.
“So let me get this straight,” Vaughn says, crossing his arms as he leans against my desk. “We’re not putting Fabre in the dirt now?”
“No.”
“Because your fiancée asked you nicely not to?”
“That is correct.”
Vaughn lets out a harsh, disbelieving laugh. He turns to Christian, shaking his head. “Are you listening to this crap? Back me up here, man.”
Christian, who has been noticeably quiet since our little come-to-Jesus conversation, only shrugs.
“It’s Hunter’s decision,” he says coolly.
Vaughn lets out another incredulous snort and stares at him like he doesn’t know who Christian is.
“So Big Daddy over here gives you a punch in the chest, and now you’re just rolling over like a good little boy?”
In less than two seconds, Christian is in Vaughn’s face, jaw tight, voice low and sharp.
“Watch yourself, motherfucker.”
I slam my palm against my desk, the sharp crack vibrating through the room.
“Both of you need to shut the fuck up.” My voice is deadly calm, but they both know me well enough to hear the warning beneath it. “Don’t make me regret bringing you both into my business.”
Vaughn scoffs. “While it’s true that your name is the legendary one in the streets, let’s be clear, Hunt—both Christian and I have helped you build this empire. You didn’t do us any favors by bringing us into the fold.” He leans in, his tone dropping. “You need us.”
I rub a hand over my jaw. I get it. He’s pissed. But he needs to calm his emotional ass down.
Fabre is my cross to bear, not his.
“I never said you two weren’t valuable to my success,” I say, voice even. “That’s why I gave you both a piece of ownership, not a salary. But letmebe clear Vaughn—you two are partners in my legitimate holdings, not the work I do as a consultant. Fabre is my business, not yours.”
“Wow,” Vaughn scoffs, shaking his head. “You hear this shit, Christian?”
Christian doesn’t answer. Just watches me, his face unreadable.
Which, honestly? Is worse.
A quiet Christian is a problem I’m going to have to deal with later.
But after the wedding.
After Megan is officially mine.
“We were just with you on one of thoseconsultantcalls last week,” Vaughn continues. “We’re with you on a lot of those damn consults. We know where the bodies are buried, or have you forgotten that?”
“No,” I say, leveling him with a look, “but the whole point of our new arrangement was to free you both of that.”
Vaughn’s eyes darken. “If you’re not free, we’re not free.”
“Exactly,” Christian mutters.