Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 142976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 715(@200wpm)___ 572(@250wpm)___ 477(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 715(@200wpm)___ 572(@250wpm)___ 477(@300wpm)
Cade couldn’t tell if he was serious, and he slanted a narrow-eyed glance at his dad, as he tactfully stepped out of Abernathy’s grip.
“I’m happy with our agreement as it stands,” his father gritted out, his voice frigid. “I don’t see the need to sell one of my children like livestock to get a better fucking price on a deal I signed off on half a year ago.”
Abernathy’s smile faded to a grimace and his eyes went cold as he shrugged.
“Never say never. They’re young and attractive. Stranger things have happened. Anyway, why don’t we join the rest of my family for dinner? I’ve invited my sister’s son as well. You’ve met him—Richard Wilson?—my right-hand man.”
Yeah, they’d met Dick Wilson alright. He was very much a younger version of Abernathy. Lanky, weedy, slimy—and every other negative adjective Cade could possibly think of. Cade always had the irrepressible urge to wipe down every surface that oily fucker touched every time he sidled into Cade’s office.
The thought of sharing a meal with that guy was frankly nauseating.
They lagged behind Abernathy as he led the way to the dining room, and Cade exchanged another look with his father, wondering how the old man would take it if he cried off and instead joined the rest of the team in whatever plans they’d made for the night. He swallowed down a derisive snort, imagining his dad’s outrage and incredulity if he did exactly that, before swiping a hand over his face in an attempt to neutralize his expression.
“Don’t ye fookin’ dare!” The growled aside came from his father and the fact that his accent had thickened on the warning told Cade he meant business.
He slanted a quick unrepentant grin at the older man before shrugging. “Someone has to stick around to babysit you, old man.” His own low voice was practically identical to his father’s raspy growl.
“On second thought, fuck off, will you?” his father suggested, the corners of his mouth turning up while a glimmer of unholy glee lit his eyes. “I don’t mind spending some quality time with old Burns over there.”
“Fuck’s sake, don’t call him that to his face, okay?” Cade warned, suddenly serious as he pictured his dad doing exactly that. “I’d just as soon get this goddamned deal done and dusted this weekend. Any glimmer of an insult and he’ll drag it out relentlessly.”
“Aye? Then you’d better marry y’self off to one of his daughters, hadn’t you? I get the distinct impression that that’s what he’s been after from the very beginning.”
That comment didn’t deserve a response, and he gave his dad a jaundiced look as they walked into a huge, ostentatious dining room, dominated by a massive banquet table that appeared to be at least twenty-four feet long. A handful of people were already seated on one end of the ridiculous piece of furniture.
The room was decorated with cherubs and statues of Greek gods… everything was gilt and marble, with a massive crystal chandelier suspended above the lavishly decorated table. It was all so tacky and Cade winced, feeling like an outrageous snob for scoffing at the gaudy display of new wealth. Yeah, money couldn’t buy taste, and if this was what Abernathy and his family liked, then live and let live and all that. Cade felt petty for instinctively cringing at the gaudiness of it all.
Cade’s gaze fled—in almost panicked defense—from the overwhelming amount of tawdry flash on display to the people sitting at the table. Abernathy naturally took the head—Jesus, was that an actual fucking throne?—and sat down in his gold and red velvet seat. While his daughters sat on his left—wearing dresses cut so low their tits threatened to spill out and offer themselves up as the entree dish—with that weedy motherfucker Wilson seated between them. There were three empty place settings on the right of Abernathy and it was to these empty spaces which the smiling maid ushered Cade and his father. An ornately uniformed man—whom Cade could only assume was a footman of sorts—held out a chair for his father and then one for Cade. He sat down and diverted his frowning gaze at the empty place setting between him and his dad.
“Are you expecting another guest?” James Hawthorne boomed and Abernathy laughed dismissively while his daughters tittered and Wilson smirked.
“A guest? Hardly. Just the girl, she’s likely frittering around making certain everything is running smoothly. She lives for shit like that. It’s good she’s found a way to make herself useful, what with everything we all do for her, y’know? She’s useless at just about anything else, to be honest.”
James and Cade exchanged mystified looks. Were they supposed to know who the fuck the man was talking about? As far as he knew the only people in attendance this weekend were Abernathy’s daughters and—later—his legal team.