Page 54 of Rival for Rent

“Go get ’em, tiger,” Carolyn said, giving me a push towards the living room.

I looked around, then cleared my throat. Carolyn helped by tapping her spoon against her wineglass until the room quieted.

“Um,” I began, and immediately winced. Not a great start. Too late to fix it now. “I wanted to thank you all for being here tonight. I’ve lived in this house for two years, but I’ve never had a housewarming party, so... better late than never, right?”

That got a polite laugh, and Nancy stage-whispered to her husband, “Aw, honey, we should’ve brought him something. A houseplant, maybe. Or a bottle of Remy Martin XO.”

I nearly choked again. A succulent was one thing. A bottle of cognac that cost two hundred dollars was another. But this crowd’s absurd wealth was why they were here.

“As you probably know—because I haven’t shut up about it—I’m really excited about the Butterfly Center opening in a couple of weeks. It’ll be the first—”

A loud knock interrupted me. Not a polite knock. A pounding. Repetitive and insistent. The room turned as one towards the door.

I glanced into the kitchen. Mason had been arranging petit fours on a tiered stand, but now he was at my side, moving like a shadow.

“Oh no,” Nancy said, “I didn’t realize we were expecting more guests.”

“No, it’s fine,” I said quickly. “I’m sure it’s just...”

I didn’t know how to finish that sentence. I headed to the door, Mason on my heels. I reached for the knob, but his hand covered mine.

“Let me,” he said, voice low. I stepped back without thinking.

He pulled out his phone and swiped open the app that connected to the camera outside. “You know a medium-height, muscular white dude? He’s agitated.”

Understatement of the year. The guy was still pounding like the house was on fire.

“That’s like, half the people I know,” I told him. “Let me see.”

I peered at his phone screen, but the picture was grainy, and the guy was looking over his shoulder now.

“Want me to ask his name?” Mason asked.

“No,” I whispered. “Then everyone will hear.”

“They can already hear him.”

“Yeah, but we can make him go away faster if we handle it ourselves.” My stomach twisted. I didn’t want to deal with this, but I also couldn’t let it ruin the night. “Open it.”

Mason gave me a look that screamed this was a terrible idea, but he opened the door. The man on the steps stumbled forward—Mason caught him—and when he straightened, I felt my gut drop.

“Brent? What are you doing here?”

Brent had been my partner when I founded EnviraTech, but I hadn’t seen him in five years—ever since I had to fire him for embezzling funds. So what the hell was he doing on my doorstep?

“Hey man.” Brent flashed me a bleary smile. His voice was louder than I liked. “Glad I caught you.”

“Caught me?” I said. “Brent, I’m in the middle of something. You need to leave.”

“But that’s why I came.” He pulled out of Mason’s grip and stumbled towards me. “Not fair, you know? Having a party without me.”

“Okay, I don’t know what you think is going on, but you’re not staying. You need to leave. Now.”

“No,youneed to get out,” he slurred, jabbing a finger at my chest. “I know you’re setting up some kind of deal. I want in. I made this company what it is.”

“Jesus, are you drunk?”

“Why don’t you let me handle this?” Mason said quietly. “Ask Carolyn to bring out the bottles of champagne in the fridge. I left the flutes on the dining room table. Fill a glass for everyone and move the party outside.”

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