Page 127 of Share with Me

No way.

“How much did you pay for that?” Brinley pointed to the unlikeness of Pablo Picasso’s mistress in vivid geometric blocks and curves.

“A hundred. Why?”

“A hundred million dollars?”How many Stradivarius violins can I buy with that?

How many senior citizens can I feed and clothe and provide houses to stay in with that?

“One of a kind.”

“So you work yourself to death for stuff that will all burn up one day.”

“I’m a collector like you, sis. Only I don’t collect white trash.”

“You take that back, Dill. Ivan is not trash.” Brinley was on the verge of tears. She composed herself. Next to her, Dad said nothing.

Dillon leaned back. “What’s your problem, Brin? Out with it. I don’t have all day. I have a company to run.”

“That’s exactly it, Dill. You have a company to run. And you roll over everyone in your way. You don’t care who you hurt, whose lives you destroy, where they end up, whatever, as long as you get what you want.”

Dillon stared at her.

“I don’t know everything that you said to Ivan on Christmas Eve, but I can pretty much guess.”

“What might I have said to him?”

“You threw him down. Stepped on him. Spat at him. You think that if Ivan and I somehow end up together, he’ll take all my money and prevent me from selling my shares to you.”

Dillon kept his poker face. “I’m trying to protect you, sis.”

“Protect me or protect your interests in Brooks Investments?”

“She has a good point there.” Dad sounded amused. “If I could give you the entire company, Dill, I would, but I’ve already written the will and such as it is, your mother would pitch a fit if I give your sisters less than your shares.”

“You want my third of the company, Dill? It’s only money.”

Brinley saw the flicker in Dillon’s eyes. “You would give up nine billion dollars for that piece of garbage?”

“It takes one to know one,” Brinley snapped.

Dad raised an arm. “Children.”

Brinley sighed. “I’m sorry, Dill. I didn’t mean to call you trash.”

“You thought it.”

Brinley’s shoulders slumped. “I wish Parker were here. He was always the peacemaker between us.”

“We all miss him,” Dad said.

Dillon’s voice was low. “Now it’s just you and me, Brin, duking it out.”

“I don’t want us to fight.” Brinley padded around the executive desk and hugged her only living brother. “I love you, you pain in the neck.”

Dillon patted her arms. “I love you too, sis.”

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