The Angels' Share (The Bourbon Kings #2) - J. R. Ward Page 0,80
the oxblood leather chair beside the sofa she had tucked herself into. The room was not a large one, and the oil paintings of prized Bradford thoroughbreds hanging on the paneled walls made things seem even smaller. Adding Pford’s physical proximity to the mix? Well, that shrunk things down to the point that the wide-screen TV showing a rerun of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills felt like it was pressed against her face.
“Why are you watching this drivel?” he said.
“Because I like it.”
“It’s a waste of time.” He took the remote and changed the channel to some financial pundit in a red tie and a pale blue shirt. “You should be looking at things of value.”
Then allow me to cast my stare away from you, she thought.
“We need to talk about the reception.” She narrowed her eyes. “And I must introduce you to Amelia.”
“Who?” he said without looking away from the NASDAQ crawl.
“My daughter.”
That got his attention and he glanced over, one thin eyebrow lifting. “Where is she? Is she home from school?”
“Yes.”
Gin extended a hand to the house phone that was discreetly hidden behind a lamp made from a sterling-silver fillies trophy from the nineteen hundreds. Picking up the receiver, she called the butler’s extension.
“Mr. Harris? Do get Amelia and bring her here? Thank you.”
When she hung up, she looked at Richard. “I need you to pay for the wedding reception we’re having here on Saturday. You can write me the check. It will be about fifty thousand. If it’s more, I’ll come back to you.”
Richard lowered his glass and refocused on her. “Why am I paying for anything?”
“Because we’re getting married. The two of us.”
“At your home.”
“So you’re going to make no contribution at all?”
“I already have.”
She looked at her ring. “Richard, you’re living under this roof, eating our food—”
He laughed and swirled his bourbon around. “You’re not actually making that argument, are you?”
“You’re going to write that check and that’s that.”
“I suggest you hold your breath for the ink to be dry, darling.” Richard toasted her. “Now, that would be a show worth watching.”
“If you don’t pay, I’ll cancel the party. And don’t lie. You are looking forward to the attention.”
Trophies, after all, needed a presentation ceremony.
Richard sat forward, the movement of his butt causing the leather to creak in a muffled way. “I know you aren’t aware of this, but there are problems at your family’s company.”
“Oh, really.” She played dumb. “Someone lose the key to an office supply closet? Oh, the tragedy.”
There was no value in letting him in on their financial reversal, after all. Certainly not before their marriage certificate had been issued.
He smiled, and for the first time, something close to joy truly hit his eyes. “Guess who called me today? A friend of mine at the Charlemont Courier Journal. And you want to know what she told me?”
“That they’re doing an exposé on penile implants and they want you to be a subject?”
“That’s crass.”
“True, but I think it might help.”
Richard sat back and crossed his legs, his jaw tightening. “First of all, it’s a she, not a they. And secondly, she told me that there are very serious issues at your company, Gin. Big financial issues. There’s going to be a story first thing in the morning about it all. So don’t try to play me with this ruse about needing a check made out to you for the reception so that things are equitable between as. Your father has died, and his will is being probated, your mother’s trust is tied up until she passes, and the BBC is struggling so your dividends are down. If you want to hold a fundraiser and expect me to contribute, you better declare yourself a five-oh-one C three so I can get the write-off. Otherwise, I’m not giving you a dime. Darling.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“You don’t? Well, then, read up first thing in the morning and you’ll learn something.” He indicated the television. “Or better yet, come in here and watch this channel. I’m very sure you’re going to be all over the TV tomorrow.”
Gin lifted her chin, even as her heart went on a broken field run in her chest. “We have plenty of money here at the house, and I don’t feel it is unreasonable for you to pay for something—so if you aren’t prepared to share in the cost, then the reception is off.”
Richard nursed his bourbon. “A tip on negotiations. If you’re going to issue