Page 22 of Overruled

Twelve

Ezra

Sour Patch: If you don’t stop bothering me, I’m going to block your number.

My entire face splits into a wide grin as I read her text.

At first glance, one might think I’ve lost my mind, to be so elated by it, but those people wouldn’t know Dani like I do.

Her texts in the week following the Fourth of July party have been both the same and yet vastly different from the ones we’ve exchanged in the past—that same prickly edge to her words but with less…

bite than before. I would never point out such a thing to her; she’d probably run for the hills if I did, but still it makes me smile to know it.

Me: I miss you too.

I tuck my phone in my pocket before she can reply, still grinning as I imagine her flushed expression when she reads my message.

I can picture her sitting at her desk in her office as she reads it—her teeth pressed against her soft lower lip and her dark brows pulled tight—but I know that she won’t actually block my number.

Just like I know something shifted between us last weekend.

Not that either of us have discussed it, since I know that this too would most likely have Dani bolting.

Almost like a rabbit that senses it’s being hunted by a fox, and I can’t pretend I haven’t always loved to chase her.

Even more so now that she’s slowing down enough to let me close the gap.

“Why are you smiling like that?”

My expression falters as I catch sight of my brother leaving his office just down the hall from mine, effectively making it impossible to duck inside and avoid speaking to him. I smooth my features into something more passive.

“I was just imagining what it would be like to buy out the floor above us and move my office away from yours.”

Eli rolls his eyes. “Cute. Have you finished those briefs I emailed you about?”

“I have,” I tell him. “Still not sure why you’re checking in on my case. One you aren’t assigned to.”

“I don’t keep an eye on your cases,” Eli responds coolly. “I keep an eye on you.”

In a family that was less fucked up, one might think this was a nice thing for Eli to do. That he was being a good brother by looking out for me, but I know better. Eli is too much like Alexander. Everything he does is for his own benefit.

“I can handle myself,” I say tightly. “I’ve been doing it for years.”

Eli shrugs, as if it’s debatable. God, what I wouldn’t give to actually move my office. Hell, to quit this fucking firm altogether. Even if it’s not possible, it’s nice to fantasize about.

“Dad wants to see you,” he tells me, effectively ending our conversation. “He’s in his office.”

“I’ll go see him after—”

“He made it very clear he wanted to see you the second you got in.”

I clench my teeth. Every fiber of my being wants to argue, to tell the both of them that they can fuck right off into next week for all I care—but again, it’s only something I can fantasize about. It’s not something I can actually do.

“Fine,” I manage. “I’ll head that way.”

“Good.” Eli nods. “I’ll check with you on those briefs later.”

He strides off before I can remind him yet again that this is not his case—leaving me fuming in his wake as he often does. It’s amazing how quickly my family can shift my mood; it was only minutes ago that I felt almost like I was floating, and now my stomach feels sour.

I steel myself for more fuckery as I tread down the hall to the corner office Alexander occupies, almost running into someone stepping out of it as I’m reaching for the doorknob.

I feel hot anger licking at my chest when a familiar woman nods her head at me in greeting, and a quick glance down the length of her reveals obviously mussed hair and one too many undone buttons of her blouse.

“Ezra,” Bridgett greets me demurely.

I don’t offer her any pleasantries, settling on a nod. I refuse to make nice with the woman my father is sticking his dick in on a regular basis. A woman who isn’t my mother. He doesn’t even try to hide it. Quite the opposite, it’s like he wants me to know.

I take a fortifying breath as I listen to the fading sounds of Louboutins that I’m sure Alexander bought for Bridgett clicking against the tile, and let it out shakily before wrenching the door to my father’s office open and stepping inside.

“Finally,” Alexander says with a huff. “Where have you been?”

“Working?” I shut the door behind me, moving further into the room and pointedly avoiding the love seat by the wall, opting for one of the leather chairs across from Alexander’s desk instead. “I wish I could say the same for you.”

Alexander shoots me a steely look. “Something you’d like to say, Ezra?”

“There’s plenty I’d love to say,” I seethe. I jerk my head back toward the now-closed office door. “Would it kill you to be discreet? Why don’t you just fuck her in reception next time?”

“I would watch my tone if I were you, boy,” Alexander says in a carefully measured way. “What I do is none of your goddamned business.”

“Mom—”

“Your mother is happy and taken care of,” he cuts in. “I suggest you remember that. You wouldn’t want to break her heart, would you?”

My teeth clench so hard I fear they might crack, but I remain dutifully silent.

“Now,” Alexander says dismissively, as if I didn’t just walk in on the tail end of his latest tryst. “Lorenzo tells me that Bianca’s lawyer is attempting to file an injunction over the inclusion of Bianca’s trust.”

“I can’t exactly stop them from filing,” I point out. “It wasn’t agreed upon in the preliminary discussions.”

“This whole case is becoming a pain in my ass,” he says with a scowl. “I didn’t expect Bianca and her little lawyer to fight us so hard.”

I want to tell him that his first mistake was underestimating Bianca’s “little lawyer,” but I keep quiet. I imagine he’ll realize that soon enough.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Maybe you should pay a visit to Bianca,” he ventures. “You could…remind her how much she stands to lose when we win this.”

My lip curls. “You want me to threaten her?”

“That isn’t the word I’d use.”

I make a disgusted sound. “But it’s the one you meant.”

“Sometimes you have to make the hard decisions for the greater good.”

“Whose greater good? Yours?”

Alexander narrows his eyes. “The greater good of this firm. Our family’s firm, remember?”

Our family. It takes everything in me not to laugh. I push up from my chair in a rush, shaking my head. “I’m not threatening Bianca. I can win this case without that shit.”

“You’d better,” Alexander warns. “I don’t need to remind you of what I expect of you here.”

As if I could ever forget.

Alexander waves his hand, dismissing me. “Go. I have work to do. See what you can do about blocking that injunction.”

“Sure thing,” I practically spit.

I spin on my heel, desperate to get out of the room, but my father’s voice stops me at the door.

“Your mother’s been asking to see you.”

I’m reminded of how much I hate him at this moment.

Reminded of the way he owns me, the way he can break me with a word.

I rush out of his office, feeling my heart thud behind my ribs at a rapid pace as I move down the hall, bypassing my office entirely.

I pull my phone out to call my mother’s nurse, pausing midstride when I notice an incoming text.

Sour Patch: I plead the Fifth.

If I wasn’t teeming with rage and frustration, I’m certain this text would make me smile. Even though it doesn’t, it still offers a splash of calm in the midst of the raging storm inside me. Dani might be the only person alive who could do even that. Later, I’ll wonder what that means.

Right now, I need to see my mother.

···

“Let me get that for you,” I try, stopping my mother from getting up from her chair.

She clucks her tongue in protest but settles back into the rocking chair she loves so much, allowing me to add honey to her tea.

“Thank you,” she says, taking the cup from me before blowing on it gently.

I drop down into the chair that matches hers—one I imagine she purchased with visions of sitting out on the back porch with Alexander like we are now. I highly doubt it ever happened.

“So tell me about work,” Mom prods, offering me a small smile.

“Work is work,” I answer flippantly. “Nothing new there.”

“I heard your father talking about some big case you were all working on at dinner the other night.”

I clench my jaw at the mention of Alexander. I want to argue with her, but I know it won’t do anything but upset her, so I don’t.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle.” I pick a piece of lint from my slacks aimlessly, scrambling for a topic other than work. Something that won’t end with her being upset. “How are the roses doing?”

She puffs out a sharp breath. “Found black spot on my tea roses the other day. Had to have Rita prune down half the bush to get rid of it all.”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine. You’ve always had a green thumb.”

“I used to,” she says softly. “On away days…sometimes I forget to look after them like I should.”

Away days.

It’s how she’s come to refer to the days when her mind retreats into that place that never really healed. She has good days and bad days, but ever since her…incident, there are times when it’s like she isn’t here at all. I’m just happy that today isn’t one of those days.

“Have they been getting worse?”

She takes a slow sip of her tea, not looking at me. “No, I don’t think so. No more so than usual. It’s better when Rita is here. It’s easier not to…go away when someone is here.”

A familiar wave of anger washes over me, knowing that Alexander gives her the bare minimum of attention.

Eli is no better—poisoned by his own father to the very idea of Mom.

Everything about her situation makes me sick to my stomach, more so because there isn’t a damned thing I can do about it.

Nothing except being here as often as I can and doing whatever bullshit thing Alexander asks of me.