Page 119 of Threaded Lies

“Never been accused of being reserved by any means,” Victoria says.

“Don’t we know it,” Caroline says and then taps her glass to mine. “Whatever it is that you want, Row, we want the same for you. Even if it’s against the grain of popular opinion. Your happiness is what matters to us.”

“Thanks.” I stare down at my hands clasped around my stemless wineglass and feel like shit.

Chad’s hurt. My mom’s devastated. My dad hasn’t said anything more than You’ve let the whole family down. And selfishly, I miss Holden. We’ve decided to keep a low profile until I can right the wrongs and everything blows over.

Plus, it’s the only thing I can think to do now that there is a target on my back. I need to prove myself—ten times harder than Rhett ever has, of course—to justify why Holden gave me the co-CEO position.

Everything is a dumpster fire inside of a shitstorm, and I just want to be able to walk down the office hallway or the aisle of the grocery store without someone lowering their voice and whispering.

“Earth to Rowan,” Caroline says, waving her hand in front of my face. “Did we lose you?”

I smile, trying to cover up my warring emotions. “Just for a minute. I’m back. Sorry.” My phone rings on the table in front of me. Mom is on the screen. I force the call to voicemail.

My first conversation with my mom is not going to be in front of my girlfriends, no matter how much they are on my side.

But when she calls again a few seconds later, I know I have to at least answer so she doesn’t keep doing it.

“Mom. Hi. Now’s not the time. Can we talk later?” I’m not the nicest but then again, it’s been radio silence for a week, so the last person I want to talk to while I’m actually relaxing with friends is her.

“Rowan.” Her voice is shaky.

Oh Jesus. Here we go with the poor me act that I can already sense is coming.

“Yes. I’m busy. What?”

“There’s been an accident. It’s your dad.”

FORTY-NINE

Holden

“Okay. So you have nothing, then?” I ask, more than irritated.

“I wouldn’t say that. I mean, we’ve deduced options. It’s not an LLC. There are zero LLCs with Monarch in the name that have affiliation with Rhett or TinSpirits or Rothschild in general. There are a shit ton with Monarch as a last name. I’m systematically going through them, but it might as well be a needle in a haystack at this point. Do you have any clue how many people with the last name Monarch live in the state?” Bob sighs. “Best and only bet is to ask Chad again what he meant by it or chalk it up to him being drunk and desperate for your attention.”

“Last I checked, I’m the one who gives orders, but we’ll let that one slide.” I’m in a surly fucking mood tonight and it’s not Bob’s fault. It’s mine. But it’s so much easier taking it out on him. “And Chad isn’t exactly singing my praises right now so that might not be the best idea.”

My home is the last place I ever do business, but this is the kind of business that needs to remain in private. On paper, Bob does not work for me. He has never stepped foot in any office I’ve worked in. He does not know me. We are complete strangers who have never met.

And yet due to a few palms he needed to grease and people he needed to intimidate, he’s in town for less than twenty-four hours.

Bob moves across the room, his hulking frame looking normal in the vast spans of my penthouse. He removes his baseball hat—the one he wore to hide his face some from anyone who might be looking too closely—and holds out a blue file folder to me.

“Here are the plans for the dissolution of TinSpirits. We’ve bundled similar assets together for a quick sell-off. As you know, it’s much more attractive for venture capitalists to come in and buy up like-minded pieces then to have to sort through them one by one. More bang for the buck for them and less hassle all around.”

I take the folder and flip through it, knowing I’ll look at it more thoroughly later. “You already have offers?” I ask when I notice the printed proposals.

“Yes. On a few of the packages. Negotiations haven’t happened, so right now I’m treating them as interest forms. It’s hard to sell when we can’t tell them where the business is or any specifics due to confidentiality.”

“I’m aware.” I nod and take the folder from him. “I need a few more things lined up, though, so I can have everything hit at once.”

“Timing is key.”

“It most definitely is.”

He prattles on, and my thoughts shift to watching Rowan at work earlier today. The tight sweater. Her command and confidence. Her controlling the meeting with a possible new aluminum company like the pro I knew she would be. “Like I said, there are proposals in there. Some want to act fast. Some want to negotiate. Some want you to throw Rowan in as a bonus.”