Page 30 of Rulebreaker (Gamebreakers #4)

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Lily

“I have an appointment with Lily.”

Harrison’s voice echoes through the house and I sigh, staring down at my third cup of coffee.

He doesn’t have an appointment–I won’t even take his calls, much less allow him into the house.

But he’s been trying to get to me for two days. I’ve managed to dodge his calls and told Stan’s staff that I’m not accepting visitors– any visitors, no matter who it is. Not even the man who recently shredded my heart. Not that he’s reached out, the bastard.

I try not to think about Atlas. It just makes me want to cry and I’ve already done far too much of that. Between losing Stan minutes after I arrived and the circus now surrounding my life, I just want to run far away from everyone and everything.

If I can get through the funeral, it’ll be okay. Then I can escape to my own home, and eventually get back on tour.

Unfortunately, the details of both the funeral and the postponed dates of the tour are making me crazy.

Both events have caused a media frenzy and though my PR team has assured me they’re on top of it, I know it’s bad.

I just can’t bring myself to look. To dig into what strangers think they know about me.

The only person I’ve spoken to is Sandy. She didn’t call–she just showed up and gave me a shoulder to cry on. That’s the kind of friend she is.

She was here all day yesterday, metaphorically holding my hand as I attempted to navigate the will, the prenup, the details of our separation, the staff, the funeral arrangements, and even–

“There you are.” Harrison’s nasally voice grates on my nerves as he stomps into the room.

“What do you want, Harrison?” I ask without looking up.

“There are details to attend to.”

“And I’m attending to them.”

“Well, there’s one specific thing we need to discuss.”

“We don't have anything to discuss,” I grit out. “After the funeral, you can meet with my attorney and–”

“You violated the prenup. Meaning you’re not entitled to anything. Therefore–”

“Therefore, you meet with my attorney and sort it out.” I’m in no mood to get into a pissing contest with him.

“I’m willing to be reasonable.”

“Harrison, you’ve never been reasonable in your entire life,” I mutter.

“That’s why I’m the administrator of the will and you’re–”

“Richer than you.” I level a look of what I hope is some combination of intimidation and confidence in his direction. “Smarter than you. And Stan liked me better than you.” That last part was petty but that’s too bad.

Harrison isn’t offended, but I don't care either way.

“You wouldn’t be where you are without Stan, so now it’s time to–”

“Time to what?” I demand, putting my coffee cup down with a thump so hard drops of liquid splash onto my hand and the table. “I’ve paid for whatever his insurance didn’t cover. I made sure he was safe and comfortable. And I never took a dime, so don’t start with me.”

“Start with you?” His chuckle is menacing. “Honey, I’m not only going to start with you–I’m going to finish you.”

“As I’ve said repeatedly, we’re going to take this up with attorneys, not here in the house before Stan is even buried.”

“You’re not getting a dime. Once my private investigator brings all the evidence to the judge, you’re going to owe Stan’s estate millions.”

I narrow my gaze. “That’s not how prenups work.”

“But it’s how your separation agreement works.”

Trepidation worms its way through my gut, momentarily giving me pause.

It’s been years since Stan and I signed that separation agreement.

The deal was for us to be discreet for three years.

After that we would make a joint statement about the end of our marriage and how we’re ending as friends.

But the disease hit him hard within a year, and at the three-year point, there was no way for him to make any statements, much less something thoughtful and articulate.

My attorney assured me that I was free to do whatever I wanted, with whomever I wanted, but I was never interested in getting serious with anyone.

Until Atlas.

And I tried to be discreet at first but for whom? Stan wouldn’t know either way, we were legally separated, and we passed that three-year mark a long time ago.

“I see the wheels turning.” Harrison’s gaze darkens. “You know I’m right, and you know that screwing around with Atlas Delarosa while the whole world watched is going to wind up being a very costly mistake.”

I swallow back the bile rising in my throat, forcing myself to hold my ground.

I didn’t do anything wrong.

Did I?

The details of the separation agreement are sketchy because it’s been so long. My lawyer told me everything was in order and I didn’t think about checking because…why? Because I was just biding my time, waiting for the ten years on the prenup to run out.

“At the moment, all I know is that I have to bury my husband,” I say quietly. “And that I’d like you to leave.”

“It doesn’t have to be acrimonious,” he insists, leaning toward me with a shit-eating grin. “Twenty million and I’ll–”

“You’re out of your mind.” I meet his steely gaze with one of my own, despite the headache forming behind my eyes and the nausea threatening to erupt.

“It’s a drop in the bucket for you.”

“Get out.” I slowly get to my feet and point toward the front door. “Now. Don't make me call security.”

“This house is essentially mine!” he snaps.

“The house will go into probate,” I respond with a calmness I don’t feel. “Now I want you to leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere until we come to an agreement.”

Somewhere else in the house I hear Dora’s yelp of frustration. “Sir! You can’t just come in here like this! Sir!”

I swivel my head in confusion, wondering who else has shown up without an invitation.

“Listen to me, Lily.” Harrison seems oblivious and he takes a step closer to me. So close I can smell the whiskey on his breath. “We can make all of this go away. All you have to do is–”

“I asked you to leave,” I yell in frustration, tears stinging my eyes as I take a step back.

“Like I said, I’m not going anywhere until we come to an agreement. Preferably, one that ends with you writing me a check.”

“Get. Out.” My voice wavers slightly, and I realize I’m shaking.

Probably because I haven’t had anything but coffee to eat or drink in two days.

I also haven’t slept.

“And I said I’m not–”

“Lily.” The voice is vaguely familiar but I’m in such an emotional state it takes a few seconds to sink in. “ Lily .” It’s louder this time and I lift my head in confusion, blinking a couple of times.

“A-Atlas?”

He turns a dark stare at Harrison. “Who the fuck are you and why are you still here when we both very clearly heard the lady ask you to leave.”

Harrison either doesn’t recognize him or is so caught up in his little get-rich-quick fantasy that he’s being stupid. “Lily and I have some business to finalize regarding her prenuptial and separation agreements. You’re going to have to wait your turn.”

“And what business is that?” Cold, calculating Atlas has a voice that makes most men quake in their proverbial boots. Harrison is apparently so intent on getting to me, he doesn’t realize who he’s in the room with.

But this isn’t Atlas’s problem.

Not anymore.

“Atlas, what are you–” I begin .

“There’s the matter of Ms. Maxwell’s infidelity to sort out,” Harrison says, cutting me off in an almost gleeful voice.

“Infidelity?” Atlas doesn’t seem at all impressed. Or upset.

I'm so confused.

“Both of you need to leave.” My voice sounds weird, and I’m starting to feel a little lightheaded.

“Lily.” Atlas slowly walks toward me, reaching out a hand to cup the back of my neck. “Let me handle this for you.”

I blink.

“Texas.” His voice is low, intimate, but also sincere and gruff. “Let me rephrase: Do you want me to handle this? Yes or no.”

I lift my eyes to his and even though I’m not sure why he’s here or what he’s doing, I know without a doubt he can make Harrison go away.

And he owes me that much after the way he treated me.

Right on cue, as if reading my mind, he tugs me a little closer. “You and I need to talk, and I owe you a huge apology, but let me take care of this first. Okay? Let me do this for you.”

“Y-yes.” It comes out in a raspy whisper but he hears me. Nods.

Then he turns on his heel, and I watch in confused fascination as Atlas Delarosa makes a grown man want to cry.