Page 14 of The Anchor Holds

“I told you to fuckin’let it go,” he snarled at me, not bothering to open with small talk.

I closed my laptop, keeping my expression unchanged in the face of my brother’s wrath.

“And that’s your mistake since you know me well enough to know I never let things go.”

Rowan glared at me, laying his hands flat on the kitchen counter. “This isn’t the fucking place for your bullshit, Cal.” Rowan glared at me. “This isn’t Wall Street, where you get to tear apart people, uncaring of the carnage you leave behind. This is a small town of good fucking people.”

I regarded him, pretending his opinions of me didn’t hit me like a blow. He was correct, after all; I did tear people apart for a living. “I wouldn’t call delivering an invoicetearing someone apart,” I finger quoted. “And Elliot didn’t seem torn apart whatsoever when I gave it to him.”

Sipping my martini, my mind flickered back to what Elliot had seemed. Confident. Laid-back. Perceptive. Sexually attuned to his body in a way that he radiated that he was a good fuck with nothing but a twinkle in his eye.

“Of course, he fucking didn’t,” Rowan’s nostrils flared on a heavy exhale. “Elliot Shaw is a good man, as is his father and his brother. They won’t match what you give them. They’ll treat you with the respect you didn’t afford them.”

Another hit.

Closer to the bone this time.

“Good people have to pay their bills too, Rowan.” I was untouched by my brother’s nobility act. “You can stay the goodguy if you like. I’m happy to be the bad guy to ensure you get paid.”

His brows narrowed, his expression turning more hostile by the moment. “I don’t give a shit if I get paid. I give a shit about good people keeping their businesses and lives afloat.”

“The boat was still floating last time I saw it… Though barely,” I replied dryly. Somehow, my memories of the boat, the sunshine, the scent of the ocean and coffee—was already a fond one.

I didn’t have many fond memories that were just mine, that didn’t include my brother, my friends, my nieces and nephews.

Rowan’s eyes were thunderous. “This isn’t a fuckin’ joke, Cal. You’re going to deliver this,” he slammed a check down on the counter, “back to where it came from.”

I craned my head to look at it, though I could deduce what it was. Elliot wasn’t a loudmouth. He just paid his bills. Noble. Responsible. “I’m not in the habit of doing stupid things,” I informed my brother. “And I’m definitely not in the habit of giving back money owed. What is the big deal? They paid you.”

“With money they need,” Rowan gritted out. “Beau—Elliot’s brother—his four-year-old girl has leukemia. He’s a single dad. The bills are fucking astronomical. This…” he tapped the check. “Is not going anywhere but to her. Return the fucking check, Cal.”

I might’ve been a breed of a heartless monster, but even my chest cavity contracted when Rowan said what he said.

A little girl. With leukemia.

The horrors of this world never ceased.

“I won’t cash the check,” I promised him, relenting immediately. Poison crept up my throat. Regret. Shame.

Being a cold-hearted bitch had paid off more than not, and there were not a lot of situations when my whole ‘askfor forgiveness not permission’ thing made me regret my personality. This topped them all.

Rowan shook his head. “You’llreturnthe fucking check.”

“I don’t need to do that.” I jutted my chin upward, not letting my expression waver. Yes, I felt exceptionally ashamed that I’d essentially shaken down the uncle of a sick girl, but that didn’t mean I was going to let my mask slip.

Rowan narrowed his eyes. “You absolutely fucking do. And if you don’t, consider yourself out of a job.”

I widened my eyes at my brother. “Is that a threat?”

Nothing in his expression changed. My brother had his own mask that he wasn’t letting slip. Except it wasn’t a mask. This anger, this disdain, this lack of respect, this was what he thought of the person I truly was. “No, Calliope, it’s a fucking promise.”

I could feel the wrath in Rowan’s words. He wasn’t fucking around here.

“Why do you have to make the big statement?” I pushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Just so you can say you got me to do what you wanted me to do for once in your life?” I tried to add a teasing edge to my tone, if only to try to file down the point of a little girl who didn’t deserve her fate.

Rowan’s expression didn’t so much as crack. “I know this is hard for you to digest, but this isn’t about you, Calliope.”

I didn’t wince, but somewhere deep down, that smarted.

---