Page 20 of Takeover

“Just thought I’d help. You were gracious enough to have me and Vincent here, and I wanted to do something for the family,” he says, never once taking his eyes off me.

“For the family?” Vick says. “You got Tara’s favorite food for the family? Sure,” she snickers. I close my eyes and imagine all the ways I could murder my sister. When I open my eyes and look at her again, she grins widely, daring me to say something to her.

Before I can give Ethan an obligatory thank you, Michael comes and throws an arm around me, but I don’t miss the daggers he’s throwing at Ethan with his eyes. Ethan doesn’t bother to dignify Michael with so much as a glance. His eyes are only for me.

“Thank you, Ethan,” I say with confidence I don’t feel. “That was very thoughtful of you.” I let out a fake laugh before I say, “Did you order one of everything from the menu?” I meant it as a joke, as a way to cut the tension in the room.

“Yes,” he says as if that was a foregone conclusion. “Since I don’t know what you like, I figured one of everything was the way to go. Next time, I’ll only get your favorites.” My eyes widen, and I can see the knowing looks the evil one and Vickie are giving each other.

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Michael says, pulling me closer. He gives me a loud kiss on the cheek before intertwining our fingers together. “How about I fix a plate for my girl on her birthday? I’ve got it from here, Nathan.”

Ethan’s jaw clenches, and even though I’ve only been around him three times, I know he’s fighting for control.

“Ethan,” he growls out.

The two men stare at each other. All chatter in the room ceases while we look to see who will blink first.

Thankfully, Dad is the first to speak. “Why don’t we all eat?”

14

Bernice and Trudy are already in the dining room when we walk in and introduce them to Michael. Bernice’s head snaps up, and she looks right at me before she throws her head back and has a full belly laugh.

“Michael, so nice to finally meet you. I’m Bernice, Tara’s cousin and life of the party. This is Trudy, my wife, but I’m flexible.” Bernice wiggles her eyebrows and elbows me in the ribs. “But I must say, I thought this sort of thing would happen to Vickie, not you Tara.”

“I’m not even going to pretend to know what you mean, Bernie,” I say. I purse my lips and widen my eyes at her, warning her to shut up, but all Bernice does is give me a playful smile.

“Girl, don’t play dumb,” Bernice says, but I ignore her.

Michael pulls out my chair for me, and before he can take the seat next to me, Vincent runs over and claims it for himself. To Michael’s credit, he smiles and ruffles Vincent’s hair before he walks around and takes the chair on the other side of me, but I don’t miss that Vincent doesn’t so much as crack a smile in Michael’s direction.

Cheryl says grace, and while Dad carves the turkey, Michael decides to make himself busy by fixing me a plate of the Thai food, which was placed on a separate table in the corner of the living room.

“What would you like, kiddo?” I ask Vincent.

He smiles shyly and points to the table of Thai food. “I don’t like turkey,” he whispers so that only I can hear. “But the other food smells good.” Without any more discussion, I stand up, offer Vincent my hand, and the two of us walk to the side table. He nods at everything I point at, and I fill his plate with more food than I know he can eat. Once he’s settled back in his chair, he leans down, smells the food, looks back up at me, and gives me a smile that stops my heart. I ruffle his hair and wink at him.

“I’m impressed, Son,” Ethan says to Vincent.

“I like to try new things, Daddy.”

“Since when? You don’t even like butter on your noodles.”

Vincent slaps a hand on his forehead and groans at his father. “Dad,” he whines, and the entire table laughs.

15

“Daddy!” Vincent exclaims from the back seat. “I forgot Mr. Turtle.” Fuck. The word almost slips out of my mouth. We’re already halfway home, but I know there is no way he will be able to sleep tonight without that damn stuffed animal. I don’t know if it’s because he actually loves the damn thing, or because it was a gift from his mother, but he can’t be away from it for even one night.

I’m usually more on top of these things, but I was so busy trying to eavesdrop on Tara and that asshole, I totally forgot about Mr. Turtle.

“Okay, buddy. We’ll turn around and go get it.” I sigh to myself as I maneuver my way through traffic and back to the Taylors’ house. When I look through the rearview mirror, Vincent’s eyes are all but shut, but he’s restless because he doesn’t have that damn turtle.

It’s only been forty minutes since we left. Vincent should be in bed, and I should be in the large penthouse reading or going through spreadsheets. None of which sounds like a good way to spend a Thursday night.

The few hours I spent with the Taylors reminded me of what I’m missing. What I had hoped for when I married Lindsay, but none of that was in the cards for us. I sigh loudly as I pull onto the quiet, city street.

I spot her immediately. She’s in front of the house talking with that asshole boyfriend of hers. He doesn’t even have the decency to give her his jacket. She’s standing there with her arms wrapped around her as they engage in what looks like a very serious conversation. I pull up and park a few feet away, but they are too engrossed in their conversation to notice me.

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