Page 55 of Beg For Me (Morally Gray #3)

“What I said about you coming here. Jabbing my finger at your chest. The thing about you and your father being ruthless. It was aggressive and uncalled for. I’m sorry.

Not that it’s an excuse, but nothing in my life is working like it should lately.

I thought I was handling the chaos well, but… ” I sigh heavily.

He studies my profile as I stare off into the morning, struggling to find the right words.

“If you’re worried about your brother, don’t be.”

Shocked, I stare at him in confusion. “Pardon?”

“Will. He’s going to be fine. We’re taking care of the Serbian situation.”

I can feel myself slow blinking at him like my brain’s buffering. “The Serbian situation?”

He nods casually. “It’s contained.”

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“It means you’re part of the family now. Your problems are our problems. And we’re going to solve them.”

I’m getting whiplash from this bizarre conversation. “How do you know anything about my brother, let alone who he’s in debt to? I didn’t even know that!”

Now his look turns dry, that same condescending expression that conveys irritation at being questioned along with disbelief that I’d dare to go there in the first place.

“I already told you—I know everything. That’s not hyperbole, it’s a fact.”

There’s no way I’m letting that outlandish statement go unchallenged. “Oh yeah? If you’re so smart, then tell me where my ex-husband went.”

“Dubai,” he replies without missing a beat.

When I only gape at him in astonishment, he adds, “They don’t have a formal extradition treaty with the US.

But we can get him back, if you’d like us to.

” His expression shifts slightly, a small, amused smile playing over his lips.

“Though somehow, I doubt you do. We’ll get the money he owes you for child support from his accounts, though.

I’ll have it transferred to your checking by Monday.

Or would you prefer we don’t deposit in one lump sum? ”

It takes a moment for my brain to come back online. “Are you being serious right now?”

“I’m always serious.”

“But…this isn’t normal. You’re saying all this like it’s normal.”

“You’re dating a McCord. Normal doesn’t apply.”

“You forgot that Carter broke up with me, so technically, I’m not dating a McCord.”

Callum shakes his head. “This breakup is only temporary. You’ll talk sense into him. Make him see the error of his ways.”

This is so ridiculous, I’m not sure whether to laugh or physically throw him off my porch. “Excuse me, but I don’t chase after men. Especially ones who’ve made it clear they’re no longer interested in a relationship with me.”

“He never made that clear. He’s just trying to do the right thing by you.”

I narrow my eyes and peer at him. “Do you have my house bugged?”

“No.”

“My cell phone?”

“No.”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

That faint, sardonic smile returns again. “Because you’re smart.”

“So you do have my house and phone bugged!”

“No. But your office is bugged. Your employer eavesdrops on the entire executive team. We accessed the recordings this morning, then deleted everything.”

My head is spinning. I suspected as much, but to hear it confirmed is mind-boggling. “We?”

“Our people.” He makes a sweeping hand gesture that seems to encompass the world and everyone in it, as if continents and their entire populations are on his payroll.

I’m starting to think they might be.

“By the way, your resignation letter was impressive. Very well written.”

“Wait. How did you…”

He politely waits for me to wrap my head around the implications of what he’s saying. When I don’t continue, he says, “This is for you.”

From inside his suit jacket, he pulls out a small envelope and hands it to me. It’s thick and heavy, the cream paper embossed on the back flap in gold lettering.

“What’s this?”

“An invitation.”

“To what?”

“My brother Cole’s wedding.”

I don’t know how many times in this conversation I’ve been shocked, but I’m sure we’re not done yet. I stare at him in disbelief. “You can’t invite someone to someone else’s wedding.”

His tone turns final. “It’s been discussed. You’re coming.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Carter will be there.”

“I already told you I’m not going to chase after him.”

“You won’t have to. Just smile at him, and he’ll fall at your feet and beg forgiveness.”

We gaze at each other while a gentle breeze rustles the leaves in the trees and the bees do their work in the lavender bushes. It’s warming up already. It’s going to be a beautiful day.

“I’m not sure I like you, Mr. McCord.”

“You’ll have the rest of your life to decide.”

“I’m sorry, what does that mean?”

“Once you and Carter are married, you’ll get to know me better. Then you can decide if you like me or not. ” He smiles again, and this time it’s genuine. “But of course you will like me. I’m quite charming. When I want to be.”

“You’re crazy, is that it? You’re a certified crazy person.”

“Not at all. I’m perfectly sane.”

“Exactly what a crazy person would say.”

Still smiling, he turns to leave. He moves with the confidence of a man used to having his orders obeyed, discussions closed on his terms, outcomes already predetermined.

He crosses the lawn without another glance backward toward the sleek black luxury sedan idling at the curb, its windows tinted so dark, they’re opaque.

I watch him go, still holding the invitation, still reeling.

He gets in the back passenger seat of the car, and it pulls silently away from the curb.

I stand there alone on the porch, the subtle, expensive scent of his cologne lingering in the air, the invitation burning like a hot coal in my hand, certain of nothing except that I’ll be checking the street tonight for a beat up car parked in front of my neighbor’s house, the one with the yellow front door.

And also that I’m probably going to that goddamn wedding.