hard. “I didn’t think of it that way, sir.”
“If you want to be successful in this business, you need to start thinking of it that way. Charity doesn’t pay the bills. It simply draws out the inevitable. We go in for the fast kill—precise and lethal. We don’t fuck around. Do you understand?”
The man nodded emphatically. “Yes, Mr. Rudolph, I do.”
“You all know what you need to do. Get to work,” he said, addressing the group as his phone buzzed an incoming call.
He slipped it from his pocket and nearly cracked a smile, but he maintained a neutral expression as he dismissed the employees. Once they were down the hall and out of eyesight, he glanced at the only framed photo he kept on a shelf near his desk. The corners of his lips tipped into the ghost of a grin as he took in the image of two gangly fourteen-year-old boys with their arms slung over each other.
He tapped the phone icon and answered the call.
“Is the funeral still on?” he asked in lieu of a greeting and was met with the easy laughter of his best friend, Tom Abbott.
“Scooter! You’ve got to stop referring to my wedding as a funeral. I’m grateful as hell that you finally agreed to be my best man this morning, but…”
“But what?” he threw back playfully.
“But flying in the night before the wedding then leaving right after won’t give you any time to enjoy the mountain. Come and stay for the week. We can hit the slopes. Eat delicious food. Drink good beer.”
“All this with your fiancée present, right?”
Fiancée.
He hated the sound of the word.
He and Tom were a twosome. Two men on a mission to live their lives to the fullest. That is, until Tom—in what he could only describe as a crushing lapse of judgment—added a fiancée to the mix, throwing off the delicate balance of their friendship. How were they supposed to pick up women and drop everything to go cliff diving in Australia with a fiancée in tow?
“Tell me you’ve come to your senses, and we can catch a flight to Ibiza. Think of it, Tommy. Sand, sun, and more pussy than you’d know what to do with,” he answered but was met with a heavy silence.
Tom had been his best friend and partner in crime since they’d met at boarding school in Boston when they were freshmen in high school. They’d even gone to college and law school together. For the better part of the last sixteen years, there were inseparable.
And when it came to women, they were unstoppable. With his all-American, boy next door blond hair and blue-eyed vibe, Tom contrasted with his dark and brooding personality to create the perfect chick magnet.
But they’d never had more than a fling. Neither had ever dated anyone seriously. Who wanted the old ball and chain?
It was the perfect setup. Nothing tied them down.
They’d traveled the world. They’d run with the bulls in Pamplona, summited Everest, and had spent every Christmas together since they were fourteen. Before his first Christmas with the Abbotts, he’d planned on staying in his dorm room at boarding school for the entire winter break.
The beauty of having divorced parents who detested each other and couldn’t give a shit about their kid meant that he could tell his mom he was going to stay with his dad, then tell his dad that he was going to be with his mom.
By fourteen, he’d had his fill of waking up on Christmas morning to a housekeeper.
Upon hearing his plan, Tom had dragged his moody ass to the Boston suburbs to spend the holiday with his family.
And from that moment on, he’d found the one place where he could be himself.
The Abbott’s had welcomed him with open arms and were the closest thing to family he’d ever known.
He wasn’t about to have some fiancée shifting the dynamic or changing the rhythm that had meant everything to him.
“Scooter, buddy, I told you. Lori’s the one for me. When you know you know,” Tom replied with a dreamy quality to his voice that made him want to hurl.
Soren frowned. “Don’t give me that love at first sight bullshit,” he shot back.
“It’s not bullshit. And you know that means something coming from me. I wouldn’t lie to you, Scooter.”
Soren huffed. “And the prenup? Has she signed it?”
“You know I don’t want one.”
Soren shook his head. “You’re a damn lawyer, Tom. You should know better.”
His friend chuckled. “You sound like Lori. She drew