her body was a million times deeper and more serious than his lighthearted, casual nature suggested. She felt his life force, but for heaven’s sake, don’t ask her how. She only knew it was real and powerful. She also knew he wasn’t what he seemed. The thought wasn’t entirely comforting, but she’d seen no reason to be worried.
They were meeting later. She had the next few days off before taking on a full week of shifts at the restaurant, so in a way, this was the start of her weekend. The thought was enough to get her mind back into the game. The sooner she finished her schoolwork, the sooner she could relax and let her hair down. With Arnie.
“Get Stanford in line, Ned, and do it soon. If you don’t, or can’t,” Darnell Senior snarled with contempt, “I will step in, and it won’t be pretty.”
Arnie held his breath when his grandfather’s warning shot sailed across the bow. He glanced sideways to gauge his father’s reaction and wasn’t at all relieved to find the man grimacing.
Barking in a tone designed to shrink balls and cause fear, Senior laid down the law. When he thumped his beefy paw on the table for emphasis, Arnie jumped.
“He took a leak in the fountain. In plain view of several guests. The Wanamakers are now persona non grata at the Four Seasons. This nonsense has gone beyond an intervention. I want him in line! Do you hear me? Get him in line.”
Ugh. Aggression and confrontation made Arnie edgy. Being pissed off rarely improved a situation, but he couldn’t fault his granddad for the anger. Stan was an alcoholic asshole with access to money and privilege—in other words, an out-of-control mess.
“You want me to clean his clock?” he asked with an abundance of menacing snark in his tone.
His dad’s head swung, and Arnie found himself trapped in a ferocious glare. “I will handle your brother. Is that clear?”
Oh, snap! Cringing from the smackdown, he offered a lame smile and waved off further input. He was going to keep his mouth shut. After all, the only reason he was even in the room was because Senior liked having an audience.
“Ned, this has gone on long enough. It’s not just an upset hotel. Add the entire city of Cincinnati. He dropped the ball on a community project that was a condition of a development contract. Do you understand what that means?”
“Oh god, Dad. Really?” His father sounded gutted.
“The cars, the whore wife, the drinking, the public buffoonery—enough! I’ve had enough.” Senior wagged his finger and went the one place that would always be his dad’s weak spot. “I’m sorry, but it’s true. He’s just like his mother. Selfish, manipulative, and worthless.”
The dramatic spit of disgust followed by the family patriarch rising from his seat to hover over them had the intended intimidating effect.
“This is on you, Ned. Either get Giselle and Stan in a box or be prepared for me to take drastic steps. Steps you will not like.”
Senior marched from the room.
For two long minutes, he and his dad sat in silence while anger hung in the air.
“What’s your play, Dad?”
“Divide and conquer. Giselle is working overtime to keep control of the money. This is all my fault,” he somberly admitted. “Sleeping with the young nanny turned our lives into a train wreck.”
Arnie turned and rubbed his dad’s shoulder. “You’re human, remember?”
“I should have known better. I should have seen how she was setting me up. I should have …”
“Enough,” Arnie grated. “Enough, Dad. Every time you do the mea culpa, her claws sink deeper. Move on. Fuck her. Family lasts longer than money, even with a smarmy lawyer and an undeserved divorce settlement.”
“You’re right. Fuck Giselle. She’s a manipulative cunt, and it’s time to shut her gravy train down.”
Arnie could feel his father’s thoughts swirl. He watched as the energy field around them turned from cloudy to brilliantly clear—a good sign his dear ole dad was operating from a positive place. Thank god.
Stan was a piece of shit, but he was still his only brother, and Arnie didn’t want to see the guy cut down to ribbons—not if there was a chance to pull back on the stick and stop the impending crash landing.
“That little turd Giselle keeps on a legal leash? What’s his name? Bruce something? Yeah, him,” his dad muttered. “I think he can be turned.”
“Really?” Hmph. This was news to Arnie. Good news because there was nothing better at delivering a hearty