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“What about Matthew?” I asked.
“I’ve borrowed from him and Anders. I can’t ask for more.”
“You never asked me. I could lend you.”
He exhaled loudly. “I was keeping you in my back pocket, hoping to work this out without asking.”
“And Oliver. He could help you. Maybe you need some assistance with the books; he’s great at finding money.”
Finley’s voice went up an octave. “Would he lend me money?”
“I would have to speak to him, and you know how he is. He would need to examine your books to see if it’s a sound investment.”
“Would it help if I used the brother-in-law card?”
I bit my bottom lip. “He might show you some sympathy, but don’t bet on it.”
Finley hesitated for a moment, the line crackling with silence. “Could you speak to him? I feel like a jerk getting in this position. I don’t want to sell my apartment or lose my company.”
My stomach churned, knowing that all the work my brother put into his company over the past few years could go down the toilet. “I’ll talk to Oliver after I get off with you. I’m sure we can work something out.”
“That would be wonderful. You’re a lifesaver,” Finley gushed.
“Don’t thank me yet. I still need to talk to Oliver.”
“Call me back.”
“He might call you back.”
“I’ll be waiting. Thanks, Ry.”
We hung up, and I sat for a few seconds, absorbing the weight of our conversation. Then I pushed my chair back and headed over to Oliver’s office. I found my fiancé engrossed in reports on his laptop, taking meticulous notes on a piece of paper. He looked up and smiled when I entered. I shut the door before going to sit in front of his desk.
"Hey," he said, putting his pen down. "What’s up? I heard you talking on the phone.”
“Finley.”
“Don’t tell me you chewed him out because of what he said to Sadie,” Oliver said, raising an eyebrow.
“I did, but I found out that’s not the real reason he’s upset,” I replied, my tone softening.
Oliver stopped writing and leaned back in his black leather office chair, giving me his full attention. “What is?”
“His company is stretched thin financially,” I said, watching his expression carefully.
Oliver stroked his chin thoughtfully. “And you thought I could help him out?”
“Either you or me. I can dip into my inheritance.”
“No.”
“No, you won’t help him out? He said if he doesn’t get a fresh infusion of cash, he’ll have to sell his apartment. He doesn’t want to put Sadie through a move. You know she needs financial stability,” I pressed, feeling the tension rise.
“I meant no, I won’t allow you to spend your inheritance,” Oliver clarified, his tone firm.
“Does that mean you’ll help him?” I asked, hope creeping into my voice.
“I need to see his books. I’m sure there’s some waste,” Oliver said, leaning forward, his eyes sharp with determination.
