Page 42 of The Beast

Chapter Fourteen

I’m still wrapped in the fog of restless sleep and fragmented dreams when my phone buzzes on the nightstand. I grumble and glance at the display. David.

“Wtisit?” Which, translated from sleep-speak, is What time is it?

“Tell me you’re not still in bed.”

“I’m not still in bed,” I say dutifully. Then I sit up and push the hair out of my face. “I’m sitting on the bed. There’s a difference.”

“Get dressed. We have a problem.”

The urgency in his voice cuts through the last of my drowsiness. “What’s going on?”

“Only your psychotic ex-boyfriend trying to blow up the merger.

“Oh. Well, shit.” Not exactly a hard-edged corporate response. But it’s heartfelt. I rub my temples, fighting a headache. Gabe, seriously. Why?

“Okay,” I say. “Tell me.”

I hear him blow out a frustrated breath. “My parents got another call last night. Whoever’s feeding them information about your father just upped the ante. They’re talking about pulling out entirely.”

I’m on my feet before he finishes the sentence, already moving toward my closet. “What did they say? What information?”

“Financial irregularities. Hints about unreported liabilities. Suggestions that Sterling Hart might be leveraging assets that don’t technically belong to him. No specifics and no documentation. But their informant swears it exists, and that they’ll reveal it unless the merger goes gracefully into the night.” David’s voice is tight. Worried.

“But that’s ridiculous. I mean, my dad’s an ass—no argument there. But we have an army of accountants and administrators looking over all that stuff. I can’t believe there’s that kind of monkey-business going on.”

“And yet.”

I sigh. “If this merger falls apart, you and I both get screwed.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“This is really fucked up. Do you really think your parents will pull out?” I ask. “I mean, anybody off the street could allege that. Without proof it’s just hearsay.”

“You know my father. He may own a casino, but the man is risk-averse. And he’s very, very nervous now.”

I rub my temples, fighting a very pushy headache. “It’s Gabriel. He’s behind it.

“Got there all on my own,” David says. “I talked my parents down last night, but they want a meeting. Today. All of us—you, me, my parents, your father.”

My father. And just like that, my day went straight to apocalyptic. I close my eyes, picturing Sterling Hart in a room with the Mercers, spinning his web of charm and lies, convincing them that everything is fine while Gabriel circles like a shark smelling blood.

“When?”

“Noon. At the Monarch. I already booked conference room three.”

“I’ll be there,” I say, albeit grudgingly. “But you can have the pleasure of inviting my dad.”

“Fair enough. Listen, Bella,” he continues, his voice softening. “We can fix this. But we have to present a united front. You and me, committed to this marriage, committed to making this work. That’s what they need to see.”

The words land like boulders.

It feels like only seconds ago that David and I were on the way to cutting free of our parents and moving on with our dreams in our little bubble of an arranged marriage.

Yes, I’d still have had my broken heart, but at least I’d have the means to build something out of the rubble without my father’s overbearing guiding hand.

But now everything is different. Complicated. And somehow I’m supposed to stand in front of David’s parents and pretend I’m not in love with another man.