Page 61 of This Might Hurt

ANDREW

Archie doesn’t come home until late that afternoon.

While I wait, I round up Carla and Grant and make them have lunch with us on the pool terrace.

They both seem deeply uncomfortable to be caught eating Greek salad with their boss in the middle of the day, but they humor me.

Carla keeps shooting me worried looks across the table, like she’s expecting one of those scenes where the host stands up at the end of the meal and announces he’s about to die of a terminal illness.

In the end, Jude’s rambling stories about all the Halloween costumes Ramona has tried on her cat lift the uneasy mood until even Grant is chuckling.

After they’ve gone back to work, Jude and I lounge at the polished teakwood table most of the afternoon while I work on my speech for the service on Saturday.

This time it’s real, no sabotage. I don’t hate my grandfather nearly enough to desecrate his memory and humiliate his name—my name—in front of some of the most powerful people in the world at his own fucking funeral.

We get more and more sleepy and sun-drunk, dipping in and out of the pool when we feel too hot, until I hear the faint thrum of rotors in the distance.

Jude glances up idly, then goes back to studying the details of his sister’s commencement ceremony on his phone without even considering that the helicopter might belong to us.

“Dinner won’t be for another couple of hours,” I offer. “Do you want to take a nap?”

He tilts his head at me, water droplets sparkling on his neck and jaw, in his hair. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“No. But you look like you’re about to fall asleep on the table.

All I’m going to be doing is finishing a draft of this speech.

” I tell myself I’m lying for his sake, that he’s worn out and needs to focus on his sister.

In reality, I know it’s for me. I’m chasing the high I felt when Colin ran out of the room.

I want the freedom to say whatever I want to my uncle without Jude there to stop me.

He almost dozes off in his chair as he considers the nap, which seems to decide him. “Wake me up when it’s time?”

“I will.”

He gets up and bends over to kiss me on his way past, a hand cupping the back of my neck. His lips taste like pool water. “Be good,” he murmurs.

“Yeah.” I watch him go, then chug the dregs of the white wine we opened for lunch straight out of the bottle while I listen to the helicopter come close enough to rustle the leaves of the nearby trees before going silent.

After another fifteen minutes I stand up, button my shirt, and check my hair in the window of the pool house.

Carrick is starting to come alive again with preparations for a formal dinner after the funeral. Normally the staff move about like ghosts, but today I can feel more eyes on me and hear snatches of quiet conversations around corners as they hash out the never-ending drama of the last week.

Archie’s office door sits half open like an invitation, throwing sunlight into the dusky hallway.

I hesitate with my fist raised to knock, trying to slow my heart rate.

My one scrap of leverage is starting to feel smaller and more pathetic by the second.

I haven’t practiced what I’m going to say, because there’s no way to plan for him. All I can do now is try.

“Come in.” His wry voice startles me, and I lower my fist. I can’t seem to think clearly as I step inside and close the door behind me.

I reach out in the darkness of my mind for Jude, his encouraging little smirk, how proud he’ll be when I show that I’m strong enough to fight our battles the way he does.

Since I avoid it like the plague, I’ve only visited Archie’s office a couple of times.

It’s frankly gorgeous—decorated with contemporary oil paintings of the land around Carrick House and the Scottish hills of my grandfather’s childhood town.

He has gleaming, minimalist furniture, a perfectly clean desk with nothing but a Mac monitor and wireless mouse.

Every beautiful detail of it terrifies me.

Archie glances up from a sheaf of papers.

His white shirt with its rolled-up sleeves and loosened gray tie make him look even bigger than his already powerful frame.

The brown leather bag he carries to meetings is slung in the corner with his suit jacket, like he only walked in a minute ago. “Hey, have a seat.”

I wondered what mood he’d be in today—it’s one of the neutral ones, neither cheerful nor angry, which is one of the most dangerous.

He pushes his monitor to the side so he can see me as I lower myself into the slippery leather chair opposite him. I wait in silence, not quite able to meet his blue-gray eyes.

Propping his elbows on the desk, his chin resting on his joined fists, he studies me. “So you’ve made your point,” he says finally. “I hope you feel good about it. Does that mean you’re ready to negotiate with the men?”

I glance out the window, which overlooks the garages. “Daxton’s car is gone.”

“Mm-hm.” He sits back in his seat with a dark smile.

“His family called him home for now, since we insulted them so gravely. Congratulations. You got what you wanted after all.” Looking me up and down, he shakes his head.

“When did you turn into such a little piece of shit, huh? I like it. Why didn’t you let me play with this sooner? ”

“You don’t like it,” I murmur. “You’re furious.”

“I am.” He shrugs one shoulder. “That doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy it.”

The eager, predatory interest in his eyes makes me want to break down and offer him anything he wants.

Gritting my teeth, I remind myself that he’s only pretending they’re not afraid of what I’ll do next.

“We want the same things,” I begin carefully, keeping my voice firm even as my heart tries to claw out of my chest. “This company is just as important to me as it is to you.” He snorts at that, but doesn’t interrupt.

“Hugh hated change, right? He shot down your ideas as often as he did mine. He wasn’t always right.

If you and Colin and I can work together, I think we can surpass his vision.

All I ask for is basic human respect, an equal seat at the table for making decisions, and no arranged marriages. It’s not that much.”

He listens with an intent frown, his knee bouncing and his eyes unreadable. “I think you’re right,” he offers carelessly, after a long moment. “The thing is, I just don’t want to.”

There was never a possibility, in any universe, that he’d agree to this. So I don’t know why it stings. “Fine, what then? Are we seriously going to carry out this feud for the rest of our lives?” I shouldn’t sound so angry; all my internal warning systems are telling me to back off.

“Yeah, I think we are.” He opens a drawer and pulls out a small sheaf of papers. Turning them to face me, he tosses them on the desk with a slap. “You’re so fucking stupid sometimes. If you wanted to marry someone for leverage, why would you pick such a liability?”

Instead of answering, I skim the top page without really reading it. It’s some kind of private investigator’s preliminary report on Jude. I doubt there’s much in here I don’t already know.

Archie counts off on his fingers. He doesn’t sound smug, just entertained.

“Tragically disabled sister, family falling apart, homeless, no money, arrested twice for misdemeanors, erratic behavior that suggests mental health problems or drugs. Not to mention threatening me over the phone. But he really seems to care about you. So I don’t need to lay it out, right? You can follow at least this much?”

Something deep inside me, deeper than the lowest places I’ve ever tried to hide, stirs. Lifts its head. I don’t know why, but I say, “Can you lay it out for me anyway?”

He blinks, taken off guard, then grins. “So you’re a masochist? I’m saying that you’re going to do whatever Col and I tell you and in return I won’t ruin this boy’s life very slowly and thoroughly until he curses the day he met you.”

I examine him, confused. I should feel devastated, but this is honestly kind of funny.

Yesterday must have shaken him up more than I realized, because he’s never been this clueless before.

All he had to do was hurt me a little, his favorite pastime, and he could have had anything he wanted.

But he had to go for Jude, because he can never resist a new game.

Now this thing inside me is awake, and it’s hungry.

“Can you be more specific?” My voice sounds strange in my ears, like it belongs to someone else.

This time he frowns, like he can sense that something just changed. “Well, I thought about getting him arrested again, but then I realized he might care more about his sister having her college offer rescinded.”

“Right, I get it.” Maybe I should be more worried about what’s happening in my chest. I’ve never known how to protect myself, but I know exactly what happens to people who hurt Jude. Sated by his words, the darkness in me stands up and bares its teeth. “Here’s how it’s going to go.”

He raises an eyebrow, irritation replacing his playfulness.

“I’ll become the CEO everyone wants. Give speeches, stand around acting charming so no one pays attention to what you’re doing behind the scenes. Do I have that right?”

“What’s your point?”