Page 32

Colton

The Grand Hotel sits on the south end of Main Street. It’s a newer building, and it stands out in Birchwood as not only the tallest structure, but also the most regal. My father had it built when I was barely old enough to remember, and he wanted it to be the most luxurious resort in the state.

I’m pretty sure he succeeded.

I park my BMW and take in the building as I stroll up to it. The meticulously kept gardens, while they’re not in bloom anymore, are free of dead leaves and anything that could ruin the aesthetic of the property. The fountains are still going, although my guess is this is the last week before they’re emptied. We’ll hit temperatures below freezing soon enough.

In the main lobby, I nod to the receptionist and make my way to the northernmost part of the hotel. There’s an extra-large conference room that’s often used for Glass Rook purposes, and that’s where we’re meeting today.

I walk into the room wearing my usual attire for these types of things—dress pants, a white button up, and black leather shoes. My father is dressed similarly, as are most of the men in here. The women are in a variety of dresses and blouses, but the only one that stands out to me is Charlotte’s.

The woman’s style always outshines everyone else’s in the room. It doesn’t matter that she’s in her mid-sixties. I haven’t seen a day when she wasn’t the most elegant, the most put-together, the most confident.

Charlotte typically leans toward neutrals, and today isn’t the exception. She’s wearing a cream sweater and pants that are… a dark tan? I’m sure there’s a more appropriate label that she could tell me. Burnt caramel, maybe? Or maybe the color would have a coffee-themed name.

Beats me.

Her red lips turn upward into a genuine smile when she spots me from across the room. I make a beeline for her, dodging members of the Rooks and walking straight past my father without a single glance.

“Good afternoon, Colton.” She turns her head so I can more easily lean down and drop a kiss on her cheek. The classic vanilla scent I’ve been accustomed to since I was a kid wraps around me, and it reminds me that I’m not alone in this room.

It may not seem like she does, but Char always has my back.

“Afternoon. You doing all right?”

“Oh, I’m doing splendidly. How’s schoolwork going?” She reaches out to adjust my collar, even though we both know it’s sitting perfectly straight.

It’s one of the things she taught me from a young age—her and Mark both. If you want to be heard and respected, lean into people’s biases. Dress the part.

Not a single hair out of place, she used to tell me, and I’ve never seen her not follow that rule. Her short, blonde hair is always styled to perfection.

“It’s fine.”

“I heard something about one of your cars. You didn’t get into a wreck, did you?”

“No, ma’am.”

When Charlotte narrows her eyes and purses her lips, I grin. I’m excellent at extracting information out of people, and I got most of my related skills from her. This is one of her go-to strategies—ask a leading question and sit back while the other person spills all their secrets to you.

If I had to guess, I’d say Charlotte already knows exactly what happened to my car. She has eyes and ears everywhere. This is just her double-checking that her info is correct. But what can I say? If she’s going to play one of her games with me, she knows to expect strategic counter-moves, even if it’s just to have a little fun.

“Pain in my ass,” she mutters.

“And you love me for it.” With a wink, I move on. I have work to do.

I know the faces and names of everyone in this room—everyone in the Glass Rooks, actually. Keeping the organization running effectively is more than standard operating procedures and a hierarchy everyone respects.

Keeping the Rooks healthy means looking after the people. And to look after the people, you have to know them.

So I ignore most of the higher-ups, except a few key players I need on my side if I’m ever going to dethrone Mark. But for the most part, I stick to the regular people—the ones the organization was really built for.

“Hey.” I clap a hand on Jack Smith’s shoulder. “How’s it going? You still working on that boat?”

“Yep! The project is progressing smoothly. I’m on track to be able to launch her this spring.”

“Good, good, I’m glad.”

We chat for a while before I make my way to the next person, and then the next.

There’s Rachel Porter—known for hacking into the CIA’s database to get us classified information we needed—and her wife, Tori. I catch up on their September trip to France, get a recap of the heist they pulled off in L.A two weeks ago, and get a few wine recommendations to try.

Then there’s Alex Perrison, an engineer who moonlights as a hitman. He has a wife, and both their daughters are on the swim team at the local high school. Both are on track to get into regionals this year, something he’s incredibly excited about. Hell, I am, too. I’ve only met the girls once, but I’m proud of them.

Greg and Theo Grayson—Lucas’s stepdad and stepbrother—are also here. Theo gives me a silent nod from across the room that I return.

I work the room until Mark gives the signal for everyone to sit around the large table in the conference room. As I move to take my spot next to my father, I realize there was a common struggle that all the newer members had—a shortage of cash.

As Mark begins his opening statements, I tuck that realization away and label it as something I need to look into further. The Glass Rooks was created as a network for criminals to help each other out and keep each other safe, yes. But the organization was also built on the founding principle that none of our members would ever struggle financially.

So why the hell aren’t these people getting paid enough?

I tune into the meeting just as Gerard Reed begins giving an update on the overall status of the Rooks.

Interference from the authorities? Little to none.

Any instances of members’ covers being blown? Two, and both have been handled.

As he continues, an image of soft brown eyes fills my mind. A light laugh comes next, followed by a flash of a sundress blowing in the summer breeze. Roses, the fading light, her soft lips against mine.

“More,” she whispered.

And of course I gave it to her.

Back then, she had me so wrapped around her finger, she could’ve told me to do anything, and I would’ve.

My father clears his throat, and I’m wrenched back to the meeting.

“Charlotte, care to update us on the bank robbery?” he asks.

I’ve known Charlotte long enough to pick up on her subtle emotional cues. They’re hidden to just about everyone in this room, but I’ve spent more time with her than most. After my mom died, she had a significant hand in raising me.

So I don’t miss when Charlotte makes a tiny shift in her seat. The movement is barely perceptible, but it has me on high alert.

Something is wrong.

“For those who aren’t aware, I got my hands on some intel of a group who was planning on robbing a couple banks,” Charlotte says. “We let them do the dirty work for us, and then we intercepted them without incident. None of our people were on scene, so none of us are suspects. The original thieves were taken care of, their bodies have been disposed of, and the money has been recovered.”

“How much did we make?” Greg asks.

Charlotte glances at the paper in her hands. “Around $500K.”

“Wait, who was on this job?” someone else asks. “I don’t remember hearing about this.”

“Some… newer recruits,” Mark answers.

I narrow my eyes. “Names?”

His shoulders get imperceptibly tighter, but he plasters on an unbothered face. “Their names are Wesley Carver, Kellan Ambrose, and Calidore Graham.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Those idiots are in the Rooks? When did that happen, and why the hell didn’t my dad tell me about it?”

“Mark, I’m curious, what’s the plan for that money?” Charlotte asks.

“It goes into the general fund to be used when we need extra cash to pull off a job. That was always the plan for it.”

I frown. Mark hasn’t ever let me get a close look into the Rooks’ finances. I’ve always assumed it was because he was skimming from the top, but this is him practically admitting it to everyone.

As a million thoughts whir through my head, my eyes flit to Charlotte. She’s staring straight ahead, face grim, and I have a feeling she’s thinking the exact same thing I am.

We don’t have proof, but we know Mark is skimming off the top of the general fund. My father, while he garners a lot of respect in the organization, isn’t all-powerful. If he were to be exposed, I’m sure he thinks it would blow over in a week or so, but I disagree. I think it would be his undoing.

“How much is in the general fund?” I ask, gesturing to the folder in front of me that everyone got. It has some statistics and more general updates in it. “The amount isn’t listed in here. Actually, it never is.”

“What are you getting at?” Mark asks calmly— too calmly.

I shrug, plastering on an innocent expression. “Just curious. Heard a couple members were having some financial issues. That’s one of the purposes of the general fund, isn’t it? Helping out our members?”

“It is, and we have proper channels that those members can go through to request financial help.”

“Right. Sorry, I forgot.” I make a show of shuffling through the folder in front of me. “Remind me, who’s in charge of those channels again?”

A man farther down the table—Roger Bastwood—clears his throat. “That’s my responsibility. Apologies, I’ve gotten behind, but I’ll look into it immediately.”

“Thank you, Roger,” Mark says. “Mind if we continue, Colton?”

I lean back in my chair and raise my hands, catching the amused glint in Charlotte’s eyes as I do. “By all means, Dad. Just trying to help.”

The meeting continues on like normal. We have our typical updates, and then Mark and the other board members field questions and requests. As always, I take note of how they respond, and how everyone else reacts to their answers.

Once it’s over, I stay even though I have a text saying Haven wants to renegotiate our deal. My phone burns in my pocket as I shake hands and talk with a few people I didn’t catch before the meeting. I already couldn’t get her out of my head. Now, I can barely focus.

What’s she going to request?

Does she want out?

Will I be able to let her go if she does?

What if that man hurts her?

I clench my fists. I know I went too far. I think I even knew it while I had her tied down and begging me to stop. Whatever took hold of me yesterday, it scared Haven, and rightly so.

There was a fragile trust between the two of us, one that promised her protection and safety, but I forgot to protect her from myself. Flogging me as payback helped her—I could see it in her eyes—but it wasn’t enough.

And it may be too late to fix it.

Part of me is pissed that I care so much. I want to hurt Haven, to break her, to destroy her. But I can’t stop thinking about the way she sobbed in my arms yesterday—how the only way we could get her to calm down was to practically force meds on her.

It made me doubt everything—my anger toward her, the years we spent tormenting her, our reasoning for it. When I said I’d learned my lesson, I meant it. Forget the flogging. Seeing Haven that broken had me afraid that I wouldn’t be able to follow through and piece her back together again.

For the first time since freshman year, I wanted to take everything back.

Dammit. I have to get home. I need to know what Haven wants—if I still have a chance to make things right.

On my way out, I grab my folder and drop a quick kiss on Charlotte’s cheek. I’m halfway to the main lobby when my father’s voice echoes through the hallway.

“Son.”

I bristle but stop. He knows how much I hate when he calls me that.

“We need to talk.”

“About?” I ask, still facing away from him. “I’m not in the mood for a lecture.”

“I have some people I’d like you to meet. They’re currently eating an early dinner.”

Great.

“I’m not in the mood for a meal.”

“And I’m not in the mood to deal with more of your attitude,” Mark snaps. “What you pulled back there was bad enough. Get yourself together, Colton, and remember your damn place.”

With gritted teeth, I follow him to the hotel’s restaurant. Most of the tables are empty, just white tablecloths and perfectly polished silverware. The glittering chandeliers are dimmed as always. It’s beautiful, and if my father didn’t own it, I’d probably frequent this place regularly.

Mark makes a beeline for one of the only occupied tables. A man with salt-and-pepper hair is reading the menu. I’ve done my research—I know exactly who he is. Which means…

When my gaze lands on a beautiful girl with light brown hair and the widest, bluest eyes I’ve ever seen, my entire body goes still. It’s her. The girl my father has wanted me to marry since I was a kid.

“Colton, this is Bill Elsher and his daughter, Delilah.”

Bill stands and reaches for me, and the charming persona I crafted to perfection as a teen slips over me.

“Oh, I’ve been waiting for this moment for years.” I shake his hand with an enthusiastic grin. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Bill.” My eyes slide to Delilah, who looks as uncomfortable as I feel. “You as well, Delilah.”

She gives me a tight smile, not meeting my eyes.

“Did you two get in today?” I ask as I take the seat next to Delilah. “I’m assuming you flew?”

“Yes, that’s right. The flight was quite relaxing. Got in a quick nap.” Bill winks at me, like that’s some kind of inside joke.

I chuckle. “Good, good. What about you, Delilah? Was the flight all right for you?”

Startled, she glances up at me. She looks oddly pale and way too delicate to be anywhere near me. One touch from me, and I’m pretty sure she’d shatter into a million pieces. Maybe it’s just her light blue dress washing her out, but I don’t think that’s the case.

“Oh, it was fine, thank you for asking.”

“Well, I’m excited we get to meet you after hearing so much about you for all these years.”

“So are we,” Bill says. “When Mark suggested dinner with all four of us, I thought it was a great way for you and Delilah to meet.”

Of course. Mark knew I would’ve left the Rooks’ meeting early—if not skipped it entirely—if he’d told me who he invited to the Grand Hotel, so he sprung it on me last minute like the bastard he is.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, but I actually can’t stay.” I make a show of my apologetic grimace. “I had an urgent matter come up, but I still wanted to stop by and chat for a few minutes.”

“What’s this?” Mark asks, eyes narrowing. “This is important, Colton.”

“Nonsense, nonsense.” Bill waves a dismissive hand, oddly jovial considering I’m being pretty rude—from his perspective, at least. “Things come up, life happens. It’s not that big of a deal. Besides, Colton and Delilah will have plenty of time to get to know each other, what with Delilah transferring to Pemberton next semester.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. The last thing I want is the woman my father is trying to force on me in closer proximity. If she’s on board with this, then she’ll probably be clingy and annoying, and I want nothing to do with her. Not when I have—

I stop that thought just in time. I don’t have Haven. Not like that.

“Congratulations, Delilah,” Mark says. “It takes quite a bit to get accepted into Pemberton.”

“Well, her mother and I have always said she was the smartest out of our kids.” Bill nudges Delilah playfully. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“Mmhmm.” But Delilah avoids making eye contact with anyone at the table, instead staring at the pristine white tablecloth.

My phone dings. It’s a useless notification that I clear immediately, but it’s the perfect excuse. I stand. “Well, that’s my cue. Really, I’m so sorry to leave so quickly, but I’m looking forward to getting to know you, Delilah.”

Not waiting for a reply, I turn and cross the room. I’m almost out of earshot when I hear my father mutter a placating, “Excuse me for one moment.”

Mark catches up to me just after I exit the restaurant and grabs my arm. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he hisses. “First impressions matter. If I’m going to secure Bill as a connection, then you need to cooperate.”

“I really don’t care.”

“What?”

“I’m not marrying her.”

His head jerks back like I just slapped him. “Excuse me?”

“I’m not fucking marrying her. This is the twenty-first century. Arranged marriages are a thing of the past.”

“You don’t have a fucking choice.”

“I do. And you’re welcome for actually walking into that damned restaurant and being cordial. I had half a mind to walk out without even saying hello and making their entire trip a waste.”

“You will marry her, Colton. We’re moving up the timeline of the wedding. Bill and I have already discussed it. We want you married before graduation. Speeds things up a little.”

“Look, you can make whatever deals you want with Bill without this stupid marriage. You’ve got the money, the power, the negotiation skills.” I gesture toward him dismissively. “All of it.”

“Colton—”

“My focus is on the Rooks. I really don’t care about your other businesses, and I’ve made that very clear.”

Mark’s face has been progressively turning red, and now it’s at its darkest shade. For the past few years, I’ve either avoided the topic of marrying Delilah or pretended to go along with my father’s plans. I didn’t want him to shut me out. Now, I have my own footing and reputation within the Glass Rooks.

I don’t need him anymore.

“I’m leaving,” I say flatly. “And I’m not marrying her.”

And if it comes down to it, I’ll kill her to get out of it.