Page 26 of Merger

"Okay, how does that sound, Mr. Bailey? If you'll help us with this, we won't tell your employer you're letting people come in and smoke around flammable materials. Though honestly, really?"

He sighed. "You're not going to rat on me?"

"No, we just want to find this kid. That's it."

Atticus mumbled under his breath. "I might rat."

I rolled my eyes. "That's enough out of you."

He groaned low. "Fine. However, we will be getting your details from your employer, Bailey. Don't run, or I will make it my personal job to come and look for you. You won't like it."

The man stared at him as if suddenly hyperaware that maybe he'd miscalculated somewhere along the way. "Yeah, I got it."

As we left, I took my husband's hand. "Did you have to scare him?"

"If he knows something, he needs to tell us. If I have to scare the information out of him, I'm happy to do so."

"Right. But what if... you know, people are right when they say you catch more flies with honey."

"No one says that. Also, I don't want to catch flies. I want to catch the idiot who tried to kill my wife."

"I know. I know. And I love you."

He dipped and kissed me gently. "Good. I love you too. Now let's get to work. Apparently, I need to resolve a little issue with the whole employee management team."

12

Gwen

I was not looking forward to this. My father was coming in to do the final sign-off on paperwork concerning Atticus's deal with him now that the wedding had been made public. He'd insisted that I be there for the meeting though, which likely meant he was looking for some kind of confrontation. I was loath to give him anything he wanted, but Atticus had wanted me there too. And oddly, when we walked into the conference room, he sat me at the head of the table and took the seat next to me.

When my father walked in, Atticus was all smiles, shook his hand, and invited him to take a seat. My father frowned when he saw where I was sitting. "Well, I suppose congratulations are in order. Though, it would have been nice to know when my own daughter got married. Of course I had to take it upon myself to verify that the wedding was, in fact, completely legal."

Atticus merely shrugged as I scowled, pinching my jaw tighter and tighter until my right molar hurt. As I stared at my father, I tried to make sense of why I had spent so much of my time needing a kind word from him, needing him to see me, needing anything from him.

He hadn't always been terrible. There was a time when Mom was still alive that he cared. Or at least he did a reasonable facsimile of caring when he turned up for the occasional recital or to check on me because Mom had said that he should. I wondered when he'd started to hate me. And for a long time, I thought he did. But I realized that so much of this indifference was just a casual selfishness where he only thought of himself first.

Oh, and he's a colorist. But what can you do about that?

Atticus inclined his head to me. "Gwen, why don't you walk your father through the final termination points of his deal?"

I lifted my brow. Atticus knew all the points. He just wanted me to be the one to say it. To put the final nail in my father's coffin. He wanted to give that to me. And it was weird, because I didn't want it, or rather I didn't need it anymore. What I saw was a sad old man who was so self-absorbed he denied himself love. The chance to know his daughters.

"Your signature on this line concludes all business that Becks has with Pendragon. All the terms of the agreement have been met."

My father tried to bluster. "Now, I haven't verified?—"

I put up a hand casually, dismissively. "No, you have the proof. All the paperwork has been filed at the county registrar of New York. Atticus and I are, in fact, legally married. And the portion of Becks technology that you purchased four years ago, has now been transferred to Pendragon. You and I are now separate."

My father eased himself down on the chair and glowered at me. "So what, you think you're important now and you can forget that we are family? I'll see you on Friday night."

I shrugged. "I will only see you on Friday because I care about Clarissa and Morgan. Not because I care about you. And while we're on the subject of our weekly ‘family’ nights, I will no longer be jumping through hoops for you, and you will start treating Clarissa with respect. I will no longer stand by and let you talk to her however you wish."

"You want to tell me what to do at my own house?"

Atticus grinned at that. "Sweetheart, why don't you tell your father about that fancy little clause in your mother's will that maybe he forgot about?"

I smiled at him then, reveling in Atticus going to bat for me. "Oh, yes. At the time it wasn't a concern because I wasn't ever planning on getting married. But you do remember Mom's little stipulation before you wed? That when she got married, she'd become the owner of the house, and then of course, upon her death the house went back into trust for her daughters. And whoever got married first was to have it as her family home."

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