Page 31 of The Wedding Party

“So you do inherit,” I confirm.

“I don’t know,” she insists. “But good Lord, I’m willing to donate it all to charity if that makes you shut up about me.”

She’s snappy, which reads defensive to me. “What about the company?” I ask, still pushing. “Wasn’t he CEO?”

“Yes,” she says, nervously wetting her lips.

“And you are?”

“VP,” she says tightly.

“Or is it now CEO?”

“What are you trying to say?”

“Just making an observation.”

“We’re done,” she says, her voice steely now. “You have no heart. I just lost my brother. I’m grieving and innocent, but obviously innocent people now need attorneys.”

“You attacked a woman this morning, a violent act that followed a violent act. I have no option—”

“But to be a bitch?” she challenges.

“True,” I state. “It’s your fastest way to being cleared.”

“Like I said. You’re being a bitch.”

“You say potato, I say pot-tat-oh.” It’s one of my father’s favorite sayings, and the truth is, with people like Natalie, I don’t mind channeling him one little bit. I learned from seeing him go too far when to stop. Which is pretty easy to do, considering he doesn’t stop.

Ever.

“Are we done?” she asks, her tone a whip meant to cut.

My phone buzzes with a text message and I glance down, reading the alert I’ve received. “The medical examiner is here anyway.” I stand up and offer her my card.

She doesn’t reach for it. I set it on the desk. “Were you at the party last night?” I ask, not quite done with her.

“I don’t do that kind of party,” she states primly.

“Not even the early portion of the party, when we were all together?”

“No,” she states. “I didn’t attend the party.”

“Then why did you come here this weekend at all?” I ask.

“To support my brother.”

“Huh,” I say.

She scowls. “What does that mean?”

I ignore her question and ask my own. “What did you do instead?”

“I got room service and stayed in. I had work to do.”

“Then how did you know what was going on?” I ask.

“I was going to the gym. I left my room and found a crowd.”