Between Commitment and Betrayal (Hardy Billionaire Brothers, #1)(17)

Carl would have been proud of her.

And I was certifiably in awe with her after that moment. She was strong in a way I didn’t see from other women around here. It made something deep in my gut burn as she walked away with Wes’s hand on the small of her back.

I took a breath and tried to organize the list of things I had to do. The next few days would be brutal.



I DID IT ALL. I called our PR company, brought in my assistant, called my brothers, and worked closely with Melinda and her daughters to organize the funeral.

We all lost sleep, mourned his loss, but carried on. I saw her blue eyes at the funeral where she didn’t look bothered at all again. She didn’t stand next to her stepfamily, but instead sat in the pews of the church with everyone else.

A woman with long dark braids who had the same exact bone structure as Everly sat beside her rubbing her arms as the pastor gave his sermon. Then, they both approached the receiving line at the wake, told the family—and me—they were sorry for our loss, as if they hadn’t lost anyone. As if they were strong enough to give sympathy even when they deserved it too.

Everly Belafonte couldn’t be bothered with what should have been, it seemed. I knew she should have been afforded a moment at that funeral to break down. She didn’t. She should have been afforded a damn moment to commemorate her father, but Melinda took on the whole eulogy with her daughters. Everly didn’t bat an eye even.

I wanted to shake her, tell her she deserved it all, that Carl would have wanted her to have something.

But I couldn’t. I had to be the king of this empire now.

Two days after the funeral, my brothers and I all got the call. “There’s a will reading for Mr. Carl Milton. It’s rather unique in that he wanted you and your brothers to attend with Everly first. You will each be read the conditions of the will one by one. I know it’s unorthodox, but we’d like you to come in—”

“Just give me the time and the place. I’ll be there if that’s what Carl wanted.”

I’d do anything that old man wanted now that he was gone, I thought.

Well, I thought so at least until I heard what he asked me to do in that damn will.





8


EVERLY





“MARRY HIM? I’m not marrying him.” My voice shot out but still shook as I said it. I glanced around at all of them. Mrs. Johnson sat there with a HEAT pin on the lapel of her white jacket with shoulder pads while Declan and I, along with his three brothers sat around the table too.

All four of those Hardy brothers wore black suits and black ties. Tailored perfection, they were a picture with their dark hair, each of them quiet but with varying expressions on their faces.

Dex handled the brand’s security, and he smirked like this was a joke. Dom had sparred with me a few times in the gym, knew me better than the other brothers, and glanced over at me with concern. Dimitri studied Declan, awaiting his response.

I did too. Declan and I had distanced ourselves since the night of Carl’s death, though he had stood up for me with Melinda by saying I was a part of the family.

I wasn’t.

I didn’t belong, and I didn’t know if I even wanted to. I survived the press at the funeral only because my mother and I beelined it out of there as fast as possible. We’d been subjected to scrutiny before and we didn’t want it again.

Yet here I was, being forced into it.

Mrs. Johnson had read the instructions after summoning us all to a large conference room within her legal firm. She’d announced that Declan and I, along with his brothers, were to be read the first stipulations of the will privately. Then everyone else, one by one, would be read theirs. Melinda, Anastasia, Clara, and my mother.

Since Mom had already flown back home after the funeral, she called to tell me she’d just video chat in. “It all seems so formal,” she’d said, pushing her beaded braids away from her face. “You know how I hate all that.”

I assured her it would all be fine. I figured we’d be given nothing. We hadn’t been given anything in the past.

That was before Mrs. Johnson dropped the bomb that exploded in my stomach. I gripped the wooden desk in an effort to stay upright, to endure the shock of it, to breathe through it.

“That is completely your choice, Ms. …” She hesitated, probably realizing I didn’t go by my father’s last name. “Ms. Belafonte.” She straightened her glasses, then she sighed, and her manicured fingers pulled them off her face to allow them to hang from the beaded string around her neck. “Everly, forgive me if I’m overstepping, but you know I’m a part of the HEAT organization, and I do so appreciate all the service you’ve given me throughout the last few months. To turn down this opportunity—”

“Mrs. Johnson, this isn’t an opportunity. This is a forced marriage. This is blackmail.” I felt my voice rising, so I took a breath, trying to remain calm.

“Your father wanted what was best for his family and his legacy. A marriage for one year isn’t the end of the world.”

“Can you please read the last paragraph to me one more time?”

“Sure.” She cleared her throat. “Everly and Declan must marry if they would like the shares of my company that give them majority voting rights over the HEAT brand. If they do not, these shares will be donated to StoneArm Real Estate along with voting rights. And, I promise, I know best. I’m not having my daughter end up with a Cobra. Not when my empire is on the line. And not when her name needs to be cleared.”