“Why? There’s been no stopping them from their usual course of business. They can move their drugs, their women…whatever they want to peddle. There’s no danger to them,” Henrik stated, his tone flat. “So, are they looking for payback for their sister—an act you assured me would not take place?”
“They are young and stupid.” Christian slashed a hand through the air.
“Are they joining Haden?” Jackson asked outright.
Christian blanched.
“If they betray me, Christian, I will hold you fully responsible. Control your nephews.”
“If you had controlled your…son…we wouldn’t be in this situation,” Christian spat.
Henrik rounded the desk, grabbed Christian’s neck, and hauled him from his chair.
“You came to us, old man. You wanted the bullshit with the McKinnlys ended. I ended it.” Henrik shook him, and Christian sputtered, grabbing at Henrik’s arms in a vain attempt at freedom.
“Henrik.” A soft voice came from the door of his office. Megara stood, the same dirt smeared across her cheek, her eyes widened with fear.
Henrik dropped Christian, who landed on his feet and started coughing.
“Megara, we’re in a meeting,” Henrik stated firmly.
“Meeting? It looked like you were trying to kill my father.” She took another step into the room, her eyes never leaving Henrik.
“I’m fine.” Christian waved a hand through the air and cleared his throat again.
Jackson moved to the bar and poured himself a drink. When he turned back, he narrowed his gaze on Christian. “Marco and Tristan need to prove their loyalty.”
“You push them too hard, Jackson, and they’ll revolt.”
“Then they revolt, and I will crush them. That’s their decision.” Jackson downed his drink and plunked the glass on the table.
Christian gave a curt nod, defeated momentarily. “I will speak to them. But you should ask yourself, if they do turn against you, if they are joining with Haden, how long do you think it will be before all the families do the same? There is a reason your brother wants control.”
“Because he’s a greedy bastard!” Jackson roared. “Go, before I give my son the order to kill you as he did your bitch of a niece.”
Megara gasped. Henrik kept his gaze frozen on Christian. He couldn’t help soothe her fears yet—not until her father was gone.
“You push away your allies, Jackson. It’s a dangerous game.” Christian walked past Megara out of the room, not sparing her a glance. Oliver, who had been standing at the door, followed behind him.
“I am not your hired goon,” Henrik said in a cold voice.
Jackson raised his brow. “Of course not.”
“Megara. Go.” Henrik flicked his wrist, dismissing her. Thankfully, she didn’t hesitate. Though, the slamming of the door behind her was a telling tale.
“Your brother has a hand in this.” Jackson’s lips thinned as he narrowed his gaze. “What has he told you?”
Henrik rolled his shoulders.
“He sides with Haden on most things,” Henrik said, dismissing the topic.
“What has he said exactly? Is he helping Haden build allies?”
“You’re paranoid.” Henrik pointed at his father, though he wasn’t all that convinced Jackson was wrong. Castor disagreed with most of Jackson’s businesses, and he despised the Network.
“I’ve had some bad luck recently. One of my boarding houses was shortened by half a dozen women last week,” Jackson prodded.
“They died?” Henrik played confused.
“No. Escaped. Have you heard anything about it? I understand your wife is dead set against the trade.”
“I’ve heard nothing.” Henrik lifted a shoulder. “If I had, I would’ve informed you.” And for the first time in his adult life, he lied straight to his father’s face.
“He’s turning his back on me.” Jackson sighed. “Your brother. I know he had a hand in it. He’s joined Haden, and Haden hates the flesh trade.”
Henrik laughed. “He turned his back on you?”
“Don’t start with me on that.” Jackson waved him off and poured himself another drink. “Your brother can have his legitimate place at my side, same as you, if he’d only prove himself worthy of the Olympus name. Same as you.”
Prove it. Always proving his worth.
“Speaking of which…” Jackson sipped his drink, “can I assume Megara’s emotional outburst a moment ago was due to pregnancy hormones?” He waggled his eyebrows.
Her pregnancy, or lack thereof, had no bearing on whether Jackson was losing control over the Network.
“Not yet,” Henrik answered gruffly.
“Better get to it, son.” Jackson winked, placed his empty glass down, and left Henrik alone in the office.
26
Megara stirred the soup and replaced the lid on the stock pot.
“What is that amazing smell?” Hera entered the kitchen, her nose in the air and a plastic smile on her lips.
“Just vegetable soup,” Megara answered, forcing her tone to stay light. She hadn’t had many conversations with Hera, but she’d only needed a short one to sense the evil beneath her soul.
“Smells divine.” Hera widened her grin, gliding to the refrigerator. “I was coming in for a bottle of water. I couldn’t find any of the servant girls.” She pulled the stainless-steel door open and reappeared with a bottle in her claw.
“This weekend is going to be very busy for them, so I gave several of them today off.” Megara placed the wooden spoon onto the small plate on the stovetop, then wiped her hands on the skirt of her apron.
Hera’s eyebrows raised, disappearing beneath the stark cut of her dark bangs. “Ahhh... How…generous of you.”
Megara retrieved a glass from the cabinet and placed it on the island. “For your water.” She pushed it gently toward Hera.
“Did you also give Gunter the day off? Is that why you’re slaving away over the hot stove?” Hera filled the glass with ice and began pouring her water over the cubes.
“No, he’s been very kind about letting me invade his kitchen when the mood strikes me.” Megara opened the pantry and gathered the ingredients for the bread she was going to make.
“That’s right. You like cooking,” Hera said with mocking recall. “Never been my sort of thing. Thankfully, Jackson has always had a full staff on hand so I could work on things that have real meaning.”
Megara’s stomach pitched, but she managed to hold her pleasant tone. “I have heard of your work with the arboretum in the city.”
“Oh, not just that, but I’ve raised millions of dollars to benefit the new art museums, and last summer, we raised enough to expand the country club and open a woman’s club as well.”
Charity for the rich and powerful. Megara’s smile trembled, but she caught it before it fell.
“Have you decided what sort of causes you’ll be working on?” Hera asked with feigned interest.
“Causes?”
“Well, yes. Once you give Henrik his heir, you’ll need to be more in the public eye. We can’t have the community thinking you’re a spoiled girl rotting up in the tower. You’ll need to give back.”
Megara swallowed around the scathing response climbing up her throat. Building a new wing onto a facility that excluded wasn’t exactly giving back as far as Megara was concerned.
The lid of the pot wiggled as the soup rose to a boil. Megara lifted it to let the steam out and turned the heat down to bring it back to a simmer. “I suppose I could work with the food pantries and the soup kitchens on the south end of the city.”
Hera gasped. She wasn’t even a good actress. Megara curled her toes inside her shoes.
“I was thinking more along the lines of a cause more fitting for Jackson Olympus’s daughter-in-law. Not…well…cooking in a kitchen somewhere.” The disgust oozed from Hera’s words.
How did she manage to climb so high onto her own pedestal without tipping over?
“Mrs. Olympus! Oh my, what are you doing in here?” Gunter rushed across the kitchen when he entered through the back entrance and saw Hera standing there. “What do you need? What can I get you? Are you hungry?”
Hera’s cold stare swung away from Megara and settled on the chef. “No, no. I was just coming in for some water. Thankfully, Megara was here to help me.” Hera motioned to her glass. “Especially since she’s left herself shorthanded today.”
“I’m happy to whip up something if you’d like. Maybe a bit stiffer than water?” Gunter offered.
“I’m not that thirsty, but thank you, Gunter. It’s good to see some people in the household still remember the hierarchy around here.” Hera pushed her full glass of water away and exited the kitchen, shoving the swinging door hard enough that it swayed back and forth a dozen or so times before finally settling.
Gunter let out a harsh breath. “I should have been here.”
“Why? So queen Hera wouldn’t have to get her own water?” Megara rolled her eyes and grabbed the mixing bowl she wanted for the bread dough. “There’s no reason for you to sit in here waiting for someone to need something they can get for themselves.”
Gunter grabbed his apron from the hook just inside the pantry. “Did your parents not have a household staff?”
“Yes, of course they did. I don’t understand that either. I was able to get a drink when I wanted. I never searched the entire house looking for someone to go get it for me.”
“You’d rather put us all out of jobs?” Gunter teased, grabbing the carton of eggs from the fridge and bringing it to her.
“Of course not,” she said with a heated stare in his direction. “But I don’t see the point in spending five minutes looking for someone else to do what I could do in two minutes.”
“That’s because you aren’t a spoiled woman.” Gunter patted the countertop. “You have a heart.”
“Does Hera?” Megara asked. The woman spent more time trying to make everyone else’s lives more difficult. If she used half that energy for good, imagine the change she could inflict in the world—like getting her husband to understand selling women was fucking disgusting.
Megara raised her hand. “No. Don’t answer that.”
Gunter grunted. “It’s safer if I don’t,” he said, then disappeared into the pantry.
27
“Where are you?” Henrik demanded, pressing the phone to his ear.
“I’ll be there. I swear,” Castor assured him in his usual laid-back, casual voice. “I just don’t want to deal with Hera for longer than I have to. The party starts at eight. I’ll be there on time. Not a second late.”
Henrik tossed his shirt at the closet door and worked his boots off his feet.
“Jackson is convinced you have something to do with Haden making a play for majority control over the Network.”
“What did you tell him?” Castor asked.
“Nothing. Because I don’t know shit.” Henrik yanked on his belt and pulled it from his jeans, dropping it to the floor near the bed. The room was empty, he realized. Megara was supposed to be getting ready for the party. People would be arriving soon and she was the damn hostess. Where the fuck was she? Playing in the kitchen again?
“If you knew, you’d have to act. This way, you can stay out of it.”
“He also asked me about those fucking women, and I fucking lied, Castor. If he finds out I had any part in that, I will crush your throat and leave your body for the dogs.”
“Relax. He won’t know anything. You’ll still get that big inheritance you’re looking for,” Castor teased.
Henrik was in no mood.
“It’s not about the money,” he growled. How many times did he have to explain the same thing over and over again to this own fucking brother?
“I know. It’s the title. The power. I get it.”
Henrik froze. “And you don’t want those things because Haden has given them to you down there.”
“Don’t create jealousy between us the way grandfather did between them. No matter what happens to the ownership of the Network, you and I are still brothers. We can’t bring a power struggle between us.”
The door to the adjoining suite opened, and Megara stepped into the room, already dressed for the evening. Without all the pins in place, the gown Kiersten created looked majestic. Instead of the tight-fitting slip-dress she’d shown them, the skirt billowed out with tooling beneath. She looked like a fucking princess ready to seek out her Prince Charming at the ball.
“When you get here, you find me directly,” Henrik commanded, then hung up.
“I didn’t realize you were on the phone,” Megara said, splaying her hands across her stomach. “I was hoping to talk to you before we go downstairs.”
“This dress is different.” He pointed at her.
She looked down at herself, as though she needed to verify his statement was true.
“Oh, the skirt. Yes. I felt like I was wearing a night gown in the original piece. Kiersten flared it out for me.”
“You didn’t mention it,” he grumbled. Hadn’t he taken her to get the dress because he wanted to be involved?
“We’ve barely spoken since then,” she pointed out softly. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I know you’re upset I didn’t get pregnant, but…well…it doesn’t always happen right away—”
Henrik blinked. “I know that.”
“Oh, but you were so upset, I thought—”
He’d been a complete fucking asshole.
“It’s not your fault. We’ll keep trying,” he said, trying to lift his voice. His anger at his brother, frustration at his father, and his annoyance at her family shouldn’t have been directed at her.
“Do you really want a baby right now, or are you doing this because your father said to?” she asked with hesitation.
“Married people have babies,” he answered simply.
Her lips pressed together in a thin line. “She’ll just give you another task to do, you know that, right?” Megara said, confidence slipping into her tone. She’d practiced the question; he could see it in her eyes.
“Who?”
“Hera. She never wants to see you legitimized.” Megara took a step toward him. “She’s a woman scorned and stuck. She can’t leave Jackson, he offers too much wealth, too much power. So, she has to stay and deal with his indiscretions. And from the hatred in her eyes, there’s been more than you may even know.”
“What does this have to do with you carrying my child?”
“A child should be born from love, not from obligation,” she blurted the last rehearsed line and bit down on her lower lip.
“And your father and mother are such love birds?” Henrik asked.
“This isn’t about them. Or your parents. It’s about us.” She took several more paces, stopping just short of touching him. Her wide eyes met his.
Henrik’s chest cramped. She spoke of love. He had promised he’d never ask it of her, but standing there, looking at her, her hair wistfully pulled up away from her face, the single pearl droplet dangling from her earlobe, and the deep-scooped neckline of her dress—she was the most magical, gorgeous woman he’d ever set eyes on. But it didn’t matter.
It was everything about her that made his heart spark to life. Her generosity, her intelligence, her ability to tease him until he laughed.
After a long stretch of silence, Megara let out a sigh. “I…I just wanted to say that. We can talk about it after the party. Chef Ramone is already here and has Gunter all tied up in knots. I just need to finish a few more pins in my hair, then I’ll go down to save him,”
Henrik stared at her, his mouth dry and chest still clenched.
“I only need to change. Wait for me, and we’ll go together,” he said, finally finding his voice.
“I’ll be in the other suite finishing up.” She smiled warmly, a little sparkle reappearing in her eyes.
“You didn’t need to use the other rooms.”
Her shoulders dropped a fraction. “I know. I thought it would be easier with this big dress and all.” She swished the dress around and laughed. Such an easy sound that put a fire beneath his pulse.
Henrik left her to finish her task and went about pulling out his tuxedo. A quick glance in the mirror, and he scrunched up his face. A quick shave first.
When Megara’s things had been moved to his room, there had been some rearranging of the drawers in the bathroom. He jerked open the top right where he’d kept his razor until then, but it was full of her things. He started to shut it, when a brush slid to the side, revealed a plastic pink oval compact.
He picked it up and popped it open.
His breath caught.
All of her words. All of her acting. All a lie.
A rush of heat burst through his body. He slammed the drawer shut and marched into the bedroom. Finding it still empty, he stalked into the adjoined suite. The door banged against the wall when he flung it open, startling Megara, who was stepping out of the bathroom.
“Henrik!” She pressed a hand flat against her chest and laughed. “You scared me…what’s wrong?” Her smile faded, and her gaze fell to his hand where he held the birth control pills. “Henrik,” she said gently.
His tongue lay too heavy in his mouth to speak. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his anger before speaking.
“Henrik, it’s not what you think. I didn’t—”
“What I think, is my wife has been fucking lying to me. What I think, is my wife has been betraying me!” He shook the pills in her direction.
“I didn’t take them!” she yelled, tears filling her eyes. When she stepped toward him, he stepped back.
“You didn’t take them?” he seethed, flipping the top open. “There are pills missing, Megara. Who gave these to you? I know you didn’t get them from any fucking doctor. I would have been told.” No one who knew who she was would have given her them without first speaking to Henrik.
“Henrik, I didn’t. I swear to you, I did not take any of those pills.” She jerked her finger at them, a tear slipping down her cheek.
Finding His Strength: The Dirty Heroes Collection Page 18