The Grand Pact (The Grand Men #1)(60)

“I agree. It would be a good move considering Hemmings is looking to outbid us.” Mason runs his pointer finger across his top lip, deep in thought. “Can’t do no harm.”

“Done,” Charlie says, final. “I got tickets for the girls also. I presume Luce won’t be making a guest appearance at such short notice, but I purchased an extra ticket anyway.”

“I’ll have Nina ask her. We could fly her home easy,” says Mason.

The thought of seeing Lucy as soon as the end of the month makes something spark inside of me. I right myself in the seat. “I’ll ask her. Better yet, I’ll go and get her myself.”

“Or we could ask her first,” Charlie suggests with a frown.

“She’ll come if I ask her to.”

I grin, thinking about the way she was with me just the night before.

“You didn’t listen, did you?” Mason sits stoically beside me, not an ounce of shock or emotion in his words.

I look at him, my face dropping.

“I’m missing something.” Charlie realises. “What is it?”

“Elliot’s fucking around with Lucy,” he says, mimicking my outburst from just last week.

“That’s nothing new.” Charlie fixes me with a nonchalant stare.

“Exactly,” I agree. “Lowell just doesn’t like the fact his wife and her bestie think I’m hot.”

“Jesus fucking ego,” Mase sniggers. “You haven’t taken it further then; that’s what you’re saying?” He looks at me, sure as fuck.

“That’s none of your business.”

“The fuck it is.”

“You really are a prick today, fuck off,” I snap.

“Alright, lads,” Charlie interjects, a hint of amusement in his tone.

“If you do plan to take it further, make sure you know what you’re getting yourself into. You know how Luce is. She wouldn’t….” Mason’s brows twitch as they draw together, but that’s about all the remorse he shows.

“She wouldn’t what?” I ask, a bitter taste of disloyalty coating my tongue.

“You’ve said it yourself. She isn’t your type.”

“I’m not her type.” I lift my drink and mutter into the glass, “Get it fucking right.”

Notorious.

The word rattles around my brain as if it’s all that occupies it.

“Elliot wouldn’t hurt Lucy.”

Charlie’s comment comes out of left field, and I shoot him a look around my glass.

“Would you?” It’s meant as a question, but it’s laced with confidence. The same confidence he wears in a courtroom.

Charlie Aldridge doesn’t say a word he doesn’t mean. Period.

I place my coffee down. “Not intentionally. Never.”

He nods, then chances a look at Mase. “Don’t be a dick about it. It’s none of your business.”

“Alright.” Mason holds his hands up in mock surrender. “But don’t expect me to be there with a mop and bucket when it all goes to shit. And if you drag my wife into your mess, it’ll become my business real fucking fast.”

“Loud and clear.”

I love the guy to my right to the death, but he’s a real prick sometimes.

“You two are bitching today.” Charlie smiles. “Entertaining if not a little concerning. All’s good in the office, though?”

“Fine.” Mason and I both say in unison, both looking at each other before our lips curl.





18





Lucy





It’s been the longest Monday in the history of Mondays. After Ralph told me about the house on Saturday and how he wanted to get things moving as quickly as possible, I knew he needed me to agree to the proposition more for his benefit than my own.

As soon as his driver arrived to pick him up from the chapel, he had him make the calls necessary and said that I should be ready by Tuesday to move in.

I told him there wasn’t any rush and that he should take his time, but he was certain he wanted to make the move now. I sensed his need to speed things along was more out of anticipation than anything else. And I can understand that.

My family was a little taken aback by my news, but once I told Elliot the house was in the West Village and a short walk from my work, he seemed to come around to the idea. No doubt he now knows more about Ralph Mendes than I do, but I also know his obsessive need to know that Ralph is legit comes from a good place.

I haven’t had a chance to Google the West Village or Ralph for that matter, but I trust him—maybe that makes me a little foolish, but Elliot and Mason wouldn’t let me live in a crazy person’s house, and I trust their judgement as much as my own.

In my excitement and with Ralph pushing things along, I stupidly told the hotel I would be checking out by tomorrow morning and wouldn’t be back after I leave for work. In my head, I thought I’d spend my time yesterday packing, but I ended up calling the realtors I was supposed to be meeting this week, and then Elliot called and… and that was the end of packing.

Which leaves me with a couple hours tonight to get all my things moved over to Ralph’s home.

Idiocy at its finest.