Page 107 of Married to Number 22
Shouting reaches me the second I shove into the mudroom, angry voices echoing down the hall.
I rush forward, skidding as I turn the corner into the kitchen, temper spiking when I see Luna arching away from her brother, whose face is mottled red and scrunched up in anger…and shoved right into Luna’s.
“What did I fucking say?” I growl, striding forward and grabbing John’s shirt, ripping him away from my woman.
He stumbles back, falling hard into the cabinets.
“I-I tried to stop him.”
I spin, realize that I missed the other person in the room.
The otherman.
Or the one pretending to be a man, anyway.
“You tried to stop him?” I grit out, striding toward Frank Maybelle, glaring at her father. “You fuckingtried?”
“Aiden—”
My eyes slice to Luna’s—and whatever she sees in my gaze has her lips clamping together, swallowing down the rest of the sentence. What I see in hers, however, has my temper ratcheting up.
Fear.
Of me.
Grinding my teeth together, I swivel my gaze back toward Frank. “You tried to stop him?” I ask icily.
A nod that’s so rapid and uncontrolled, he resembles a bobblehead. “Yes,” he says. “Our team of lawyers has advised that we keep our distance considering the legal fight ahead, but John’s always been a little bit of a…”
“An asshole?” I supply.
“Impulsive,” Frank says quietly as John groans and pushes to his feet.
“Aiden!”
I jerk at Luna’s warning, turning just in time to see John launch himself at me, proving that impulsivity—and frankly, his stupidity—all over again.
I sidestep him, wince when he bounces off the cabinets a second time.
“You know,” I say, nudging him back with my foot when he swipes at my leg, “you could always find a way to work with Luna—do some good as you take advantage of capitalism and all that.”
“The board would never agree—” Frank begins.
“Except, they did,” Luna reminds him.
“Yeah, because of Henderson and Dubois,” John snaps. “They’re like the golden stepchild mafia—they always get their way and the press eats that shit up.”
“Because they’re trying to do good things,” Luna says, coming to my side, leaning against me, soothing the rough edges of my guilt twining through my insides because I scared her. “Like what I want to do.”
“Good things that will bankrupt us,” John sneers.
“No.” She sighs. “But you’ve never trusted anyone but yourself so what’s the point of trying to convince you? Jace and Jean-Michel are on my side, I have Grams’s stock and the majority sharesandthe board on my side. You’re out of moves, John, so you can either get with the program or you can get left behind.”
“You—”
“And that’s the last thing I’m going to say about it,” she says. Her voice is like steel and fuck, but I’m so damned proud of her. “If you have a problem with that then I don’t know what to tell you except that the next time you show up unwelcome and get in my face, I’ll be skipping the side of intimidation you’re attempting to dish out and go straight to calling the police.”
“I’ll give you your share of the trust fund.” Desperate words.
