Page 95 of Broken Brothers

“Promise me one thing,” he said. “You’ll believe me no matter what happens.”

When I heard that, it reminded me very eerily of something Layla had made me promise.

“Promise me you’ll love me no matter what happens.”

I gulped. The seriousness of the situation could not be overstated. I had no idea what would come, but I already actually felt nervous.

But there was one thing I knew. Morgan had never fucked me over before. Even when we joked and taunted each other, he knew when to stop. If there was anyone in this world I could trust…

It was Morgan Hunt.

“I promise.”

40

For all of Edwin’s bluster on the phone, life still felt quite good in the coming days.

Andrew Patel of Virtual Realty, the CEO of the company, and I finalized our investment contract, and we sent the money over by the end of the week. For all of the worst-case scenarios I could think of with Hunt Industries, almost all of them involved them finding a way to steal our investment and leaving us out to dry, so this felt like a major hurdle to clear.

On top of that, Morgan seemed to rally based on our handshake deal, and as a result we continued our hunt for leads. While, perhaps not too surprisingly, Morgan’s network of successful entrepreneurs who were interested in major investments from two guys in their 20’s had ended, we found it surprisingly easy to get dialogue started with other founders. Even with our young age—in some cases, because of it—multiple leaders wanted to hear what we had to offer.

I worked my charm while Morgan worked his last name. When pressed, of course I used my last name, but I tried to avoid that bastardly name as much as I could. Only because of howwell MCH worked as initials on multiple levels did I keep my last name—I had long moved past considering myself a Hunt.

And, well, legally, I was pretty close to requesting the name Chance Givens once more. Part of me didn’t want to do it until the old man croaked just so he would spend the rest of his life with me sharing his last name, which was kind of petty, but who better defined petty than Edwin Hunt? What better way to get back at the old man than by showing him I could beat him at his own game, as I had done once already?

They were questions I didn’t spend too much time pondering, though admittedly I really should have spent zero time pondering them. Nevertheless, by the time Friday rolled around, I had a new reason to not worry about them too much—I had a date scheduled with one Claire McLendon, the girl who was… kind of a fascination for me.

It was weird to call someone whom I had had such aggressive sex with a close friend, but that’s really how I saw her. We would never be serious, mostly on account of her insistence and my own issues after Layla, but we sure had some wild times between the sheets. I valued her relationship exactly for what it was, and the fact that she overtly set the boundaries of what we had made us function that much better. I didn’t have to worry about trickery or deception—we could just fuck and let it be.

And in some respects, it was a good thing that it was just that. Not surprisingly, Sarah Hill had never said a word after she friend requested me. My initial lust at seeing her gorgeous body had faded as I soon realized that she had merely wanted a connection of the social media variety, not the romantic or sexual variety. Sure, it was fun to think about, but that’s all it was—fun. It didn’t go beyond that in any fashion.

That, and according to her profile, she still lived in New Zealand. That was kind of an obstacle that was hard toovercome, especially since I didn’t exactly have access to unlimited funds like the Hunts had.

I put it all behind me, though, when I saw the perfect girl-next-door cocktail dress of one Claire McLendon waiting for me at the bar that we had first made out in. I approached her, gave a casual shrug, and brought a laugh from her.

I didn’t kiss her when I came to her, but only because we’d agreed upon it beforehand. Now that we had done it like animals at her place, we didn’t have to have that tension between us, building toward an unstated goal. We could just make sure to protect what we had and not take stupid risks, such as having the appearance of a CEO making out with one of her investors.

“Hello handsome,” she said, careful not to raise her voice over the din of the night.

“Hey sexy,” I said gruffly.

When I pulled back and sat across from her, I saw exhausted eyes fighting through the week, albeit ones happy to see me.

“You look like you worked double time this week,” I said as I raised my already-ordered glass of gin and soda, which Claire happily met. “And for you, as the founder of a startup, that’s saying something.”

“You’re telling me,” Claire said with a sigh. She took a prolonged gulp of her drink before she softly placed it down. She looked like she had something on the tip of her tongue she couldn’t quite let loose. I could have said many things in that moment to get her to speak, but I just chose the best option.

Silence.

“We had another employee quit today.”

“Another?” I said, feeling concern. I was past the point of being concerned if Claire spilled details to me—we had finalized a contract over the week, and I decided not to say anything. I was above what Edwin Hunt would have done, or what Craig Taylor, Layla’s sociopathic uncle, would have done.

Maybe it made me a weak businessman. Maybe I should have felt much better about it. Maybe I should have thought more about it.

But, nah. It just felt right, and I never told Morgan what she had told me. It just felt… right.

Provided Morgan doesn’t find out.