Page 138 of Morally Black Betrothal

“You mean the way you went to a different school from the rest of us?” Ronan asked. “Big rebel, this one.”

“Shut up, Ronan. You don’t know what I’ve done. You’re too busy getting STIs in Vegas to notice.”

“I’ll have you know I keep that shit double-bagged when I’m whoring around, sis.”

The two of them continued to bicker while Brendan stayed quiet. I could easily imagine the expression on his face, the one where he was mentally searching for an exit but hadn’t come up with one yet.

I almost stepped out from behind the ficus to provide that exit when he spoke again:

“Maybe I don’t want to play his games anymore either.”

Immediately, Ronan and Shea stopped their squabble.

“What does that even mean?” For the first time I’d heard, Ronan didn’t sound like he was joking. “You want out? Right when you’re about the get the crown?”

Another long silence. I found myself touching the pendant hovering over my heart. The one shaped like a teardrop.

Brendan’s voice was so quiet, I barely heard him. “I don’t know anymore.”

I didn’t have to look to know that his brother and sister were trading glances. When I did sneak a peek around the plant, I saw Brendan leaning against the wall, his hands rubbing his face while Ronan and Shea mouthed a silent conversation to each other.

My heart cracked at the despair in his posture.

Oh, my secretly sweet prince.

He dropped his hands. “You think I’m crazy. Why? Doyouwant it now, Ronan? Like actually want it? After years of screwing around Vegas and being Dad’s henchman, you want the top seat at the table?”

Ronan bristled. “It’s not like I haven’t earned it. You have no idea what that fucker has put me through. You think it’s been hard up in your glass office, managing his paperwork and the board? I’ve been doing his dirty work for years. It takes a toll you can’t even imagine.”

“I never said it didn’t,” Brendan cut back. “And you, Shea? You want to give up all the parties and the networking and whatever nonsense you’ve been getting up to in California and God knows where?”

“The music industry is notnonsense, you dick,” Shea snapped back with a toss of her hair. “And I have the numbers to back it up if any of you would forget I’m just a girl long enough to give me a chance to prove I’m as much a Black as any of you.”

I frowned. I didn’t know Shea, but there was a serious note under that flippant personality, just like the same one I heard beneath Ronan’s defensive stance. One I had a feeling I’d hear if Owen were in the conversation too.

Niall had purposefully left the question of his successor wide open.

And now all his kids were chomping at the possibility.

Just like he wanted.

“That’s what I thought.” Brendan sounded almost relieved.

Huh.

Then he straightened with an air of decision. All the Black siblings were tall, but he stood at least an inch above his brothers. Neither Shea nor Ronan cowered before him, but I recognized it as the move for dominance it was.

“If that’s how it’s going to be, then both of you’ll have to work a hell of a lot harder than you have,” he said. “I’ve carried this company on my back for the last twenty years. I’m not going anywhere without a fight.”

There was a silence, then it looked as though Ronan slapped him on the shoulder as if in congratulations. “Good. Dad loves a good dogfight. At least we’ll give himsomethingthat he wants in the end.”

“Yeah,” Brendan said. “I guess we will.”

Shea and Ronan walked away, giving Brendan a moment to collect himself. I wedged myself behind the ficus as they passed, but neither of them was interested enough in houseplants to notice me.

It was only after they’d turned the corner toward the main part of the house that I stepped out of my hiding place. That was when I found Brendan sliding to the ground, elbows balanced on his knees, with his head in his hands, apparently struggling to breathe.

“Oh, God,” he wheezed. “Oh, God, I can’t fuckin’ breathe.”