Enduring (Family Justice Book 8)

by Suzanne Halliday

  After a hurried flurry of selfie activity, he stood and started to shake off his posse of admirers, inching closer and closer to the impressive double doors leading to John's private office. He was anxious to move things along once he realized that Jen not being on guard duty outside the office meant she was in there. With John. And if he had to guess, he imagined both of them were probably both chafing at the commotion his presence created.

  Hashtag, winning.

  Before flinging open the doors, he waved everyone away but pulled Malik in close for one final thing.

  “Dude, don’t be a pussy.”

  Ryan chuckled at the guy’s swift grimace. Malik knew exactly what he was referencing.

  “Look,” he continued with a measure of sick humor. “She’ll know it was me. You’re totally in the clear.”

  Malik hesitated.

  “What?” Ryan asked encouragingly. “Go ahead. Say what’s on your mind.”

  “Well, sir,” he murmured. “Your visits to headquarters generally end up adding pages to the Book of Snark you and Ms. Carlton inspire.”

  Really? Did people discuss them? Hmph. This was news to him.

  “I’m only bringing it up because …”

  Ryan arched a brow and waited.

  “She’s the best, sir. Ms. Carlton manages the pressure of Lloyd Global better than just about anyone. Your brother has been something of an asshole lately. The Goodwin deal fell through,” he growled. “And she’s been taking it on the chin. Can you maybe go easy on her, Mr. Lloyd?”

  Ryan jerked slightly but schooled his expression to stay neutral. His assumption that Jen was a right royal bitch to work for just got shot straight to hell. He made an inward grimace when the sound of his aunt’s voice ricocheted inside his head. Ya know what they say about assuming stuff. Don’t make an ass out of u and me.

  Dammit. He’d been a dick.

  Two seconds later, he shrugged and thought, Oh, fucking well, as he extended his hand to Malik.

  “Thanks for the insight, and it’s Ryan. Mr. Lloyd is my brother. Hang in there, Malik,” he told the smiling guy as he enthusiastically shook his hand.

  Then he turned and all but kicked open his brother’s office door and loudly announced his presence.

  “Crank open the vault, bro,” he boomed. “I’m here for my allowance.”

  A quick glance in the mirror above the washroom sink inside the private bathroom cleverly tucked behind a floor-to-ceiling bookcase at the rear of her office let Jen know she was safe from an outward appearance perspective. Not a hair out of place and the all-day lip stain she’d been fangirling over earned a solid five stars for surviving an encounter with the Prince of Jock Straps.

  Running her fingers across her bangs, she smoothed them against her forehead and fiddled with the small pearl dangling from her ear. She’d always tackled whatever life threw at her and wrestled that shit to the ground. Her mom said that, even as a baby, Jen was one of those kids who went with the flow.

  But Ryan Lloyd didn’t flow. He sort of unleashed. Like a torrent of water released from a dam with perfect aim.

  Shithead.

  Good-looking, arrogant shithead.

  Turning off the light as she left the washroom, Jen rounded the bookcase and went straight to her desk. Work was what she needed to block out the past hour.

  Taking a deep breath, she straightened and tugged on the hem of the smart little jacket of her designer suit as she stepped up to her desk. The breath caught in her throat when she noticed her pen and highlighter spread out instead of lined up in their usual way.

  “That son of a bitch,” she growled.

  Her eyes scanned the room to see what else the arrogant jerk face had done when he’d stepped over the line and helped himself to her office. The jumble of magazines immediately caught her gaze. Seriously?

  Stomping to the coffee table, she started to re-arrange the mess when her eyes picked up on the sloppily dog-eared page. Forcefully opening it to the crinkled page, she felt heat rush into her neck when Ryan's pompous smirk came into view.

  Did he think she was drooling over the article full of effusive compliments? The thought made her wince.

  She slammed the magazine shut and replaced it on the table with the others.

  Idiot.

  Returning to her desk, she sat and went through a cascade of messages on her tablet while trying to banish Ryan Lloyd from her thoughts. She was far too busy to get caught up in thinking about the likes of him.

  Unfortunately, no amount of working distraction kept her eyes from drifting to the damn coffee table and the magazine he used to purposely taunt her.

  “Conceited ass clown,” she murmured aloud.

  Forcing herself to concentrate on work, Jen shifted several times, searching for a comfortable position. She didn’t realize she’d been biting her lip until an especially vicious nip made her flinch.

  That’s what you get for pretending you weren’t salivating over the damn article.

  “Shut up,” she drawled to the silence.

  Pushing away from the desk, she whirled around and stopped when the wall of windows with its corner-to-corner view of gray dominated her line of sight. Why couldn’t CEOs run their kingdoms from someplace pretty? Like the Hamptons or the mountains?

  Jen glanced at her watch. Almost lunchtime. Not that she needed a break since virtually nothing of substance had been accomplished.

  Dropping her head on the back of her chair, she closed her eyes. “Why’s it gotta be this way?”

  Her heart answered the question with a tiny flutter that matched the one in her stomach.

  Launching from her chair like a marionette whose strings were pulled, she mutter-growled how she felt. “Nope. No way. I don’t do hot guy fantasies. Especially when the guy is a certified asshat.”

  From the first second of the first moment of the first time they met, she pegged Ryan for what she was sure he was—a spoiled, ego-driven, trust fund loser. His tedious environmentalist talking points and scruffy appearance struck her as self-indulgent crap next to John’s impeccable, buttoned up, and serious demeanor.

  Not much had changed in the years since. While John ran a global enterprise and played the part, Ryan wandered the world in a vagabond way that fooled no one. His eight-figure net worth didn’t include the mind-boggling wealth he shared with his family. Jen highly doubted he was slumming it on his travels.

  The only reason she put up with him at all was that, as John kept reminding her, he developed Lloyd Outdoor from scratch and that counted for a lot. The division hauled in profit like crazy because of Ryan’s enticing lifestyle. His backpack-driven existence appealed to a lot of people.

  She snorted dismissively. Whatever.

  The desk intercom buzzed. Dammit. John was contacting her.

  She answered tersely and groaned at how disagreeable she sounded. “Yes?”

  “Jen,” John replied. “I, uh, want a … um, what I mean to say is, oh shit. I’ll text you.”

  “Tell your assistant to bring me a coffee,” Ryan snottily barked in the background.

  “Ignore him,” John snapped before she had a chance to respond with something equally as rude. “He’s auditioning for lead dick in a corporate drama.”

  Jen disconnected the intercom before her laughter rang out. No way was she giving that idiot the satisfaction.

  On cue, her phone vibrated. She snatched it off the desk and opened John’s message.

  I’m stuck. Need help.

  Expecting an explanation, she waited but no further texts came.

  Aargh. She growled. “Is this national men are exhausting day?”

  Letting her thumbs fly was way more satisfying than it should have been.

  Is there some reason you’re making me ask?

  His reply was immediate.

  No. Sorry. Distracted. Don’t I have an important lunch meeting?

  Oh, for heaven’s sake. What was he nattering on about? Did he have a meeting? What was she
? His secretary?

  Grumbling disagreeably, she tapped a few keys on the fancy desktop system and brought up her boss’s schedule. Nothing. His entire day was mostly open. There was no way John Lloyd didn’t know what his day looked like. What the hell was he up to?

  Or better yet ... what was she missing?

  Betting on impulse, she came back with a clever response that demanded his input. Whichever way he answered would give Jen all she needed to proceed.

  Do you want there to be something important?

  She’d only taken a few breaths when his swift reply caused a sharp inhale and a groan followed by a long sigh.

  Desperately. Please.

  The first word he chose was unusual—the second, shocking. John rarely asked for help. Men like him had a hard time admitting to anything less than total control.

  Sorry to interrupt, John, but you have an important sit-down with Mr. Peterman of the Clueless Executive Agency. You’re meeting at the corner of Get a Grip and Bite Me. Will that get you out of whatever jam you’ve gotten into?

  He jumped on her response with a fast answer.

  Thanks, Jen. That’s perfect. Do you mind distracting Ryan?

  “Do I mind?” she muttered irritably. “Sadly, the man is serious.”

  I’m a little busy. Can’t your mother babysit?

  For no one’s benefit except hers, Jen dropped the phone with a clatter and stuck her tongue out. Of course, the damn thing pinged right away.

  No. And he wants to have lunch with you. Said so and everything.

  In a perfect world, her glare would be enough to melt the damn phone. Her boss was either stupid or he had a death wish because leaving her alone with Ryan Lloyd guaranteed fireworks.

  She was deciding which measured response to go with when their direct line intercom buzzed. With an annoyed huff, she picked up the phone and answered tersely, “What?”

  His slight pause gave her a moment of regret. John Lloyd was her boss—not the wonky-eyed guy who delivered her Thursday night Chinese takeout. And as her employer, she had an obligation to treat him with the respect he was due. Unlike crazy eyes who always managed to drop off a lewd suggestion or two along with her takeout containers. She had no problem eviscerating him with her worldly command of the language. On a bet in college, she had learned how to say or suggest fucking off in several dialects.

  Muttering a nearly silent, “Shit,” she sat up straighter and took a deep breath.

  She exhaled a sigh of relief when he stepped into the non-existent conversation he was obviously pretending they were having. Saved by whatever was driving John’s sloppy handling of his sibling dynamic.

  “Thanks for the reminder, Jen. It’s an important meeting. And thanks for standing in as Ryan’s lunch date.”

  Not sure if their interaction was on speaker, she tightened her professional manner and answered lightly, “That’s what you pay me for, John.”

  He chuckled, and she imagined the smirk her comment deserved. Then he demonstrated his executive privilege with a simple demand that reset their work relationship.

  “Be here in fifteen minutes.”

  It was his prerogative, of course, to be as curt or as formidable as he wanted, but that didn’t mean she was his lackey. Exactly as she knew he expected, Jen came back with one last remark.

  “I’m busy. Lunch lasts forty-five minutes. Tops.”

  Another chuckle and then the call disconnected.

  Chapter 3

  Ryan put on a show of thumbing through a magazine while his brother also engaged in a bit of theater. The text with his assistant followed by what he presumed was a coded call meant to convince Ryan that Jen Carlton was on board with them having lunch together was quite entertaining.

  He’d expected John to try to duck out of spending time with him, which explained why he showed up unannounced. What difference did it make when his brother put zero effort into anything except Lloyd Global? The man had a classic case of type A personality—a fact that did not sit well with Ryan. As far as he was concerned, it was high time his big brother slowed the hell down and smelled the flowers before life completely passed him by.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw the phone return to its cradle and John’s hesitation. Totally a knee-jerk reaction but he went with what he knew was more or less expected and made a snark-filled crack.

  “This lunch goes on the expense account. Right?”

  John glowered at him. Sarcasm and kidding around were mostly mysteries to his brother, so it took a minute for his reaction to catch up.

  “Smartass,” the Lloyd Global CEO frostily replied.

  Ryan saw the smile tugging at his brother’s mouth and felt oddly relieved. Was his granite outer shell finally starting to crumble?

  Hmph. Unexpected and very interesting.

  John walked to the massive wall of windows and crossed his arms as he looked out at the cheerless city vista. At that moment, Ryan felt sorry for his brother. He’d taken on so much for so damn long. And to what end? So Lloyd Global could be bigger? More powerful? Make even more money?

  The thought didn’t sit well, especially considering the irrefutable fact that he and their mother were the beneficiaries of John’s sacrifice.

  Their father hadn’t planned on dying in a car accident, and Ryan was positive Gregory Lloyd would not be happy with the way things turned out.

  “Ryan,” John mumbled.

  The awkwardness in his tone got Ryan’s undivided attention.

  “Have you touched base with Mom?”

  “Well, she knows I’m in town, but no, I haven’t gone home yet. Aunt Grace texted and said they’d be back from the beach house soon. I don’t imagine for a second that you were unaware of our mother’s ETA, so what’s the real question, bro?”

  John turned slowly and faced him. The funereal backlighting from the overcast skies gave his brother an extra somber look.

  Oh, great.

  “Quinn Montgomery.”

  Ryan’s brows shot into his hairline. “Yeah? And?”

  “Has mom or Grace spoken to you about her?”

  Subconsciously reaching for the leather cord around his neck that held a medallion, Ryan fiddled with it and searched his memory for clues to whatever the fuck John was getting at.

  Quinn Montgomery was a ghoul on her best day. She had one setting and one goal. The setting was female fraudster and her goal was to land an open wallet for a husband backed up with an ironclad prenup and a guaranteed payout all calculated in her favor.

  He shuddered slightly a second before his stomach throbbed with alarm. Oh, holy shit. Was John considering an arranged marriage?

  No.

  Just no.

  He wouldn’t allow it.

  That was a step way too fucking far for him.

  “Oh, my fucking god, bro. Please tell me you’re not hooking up with her.”

  John visibly jolted. “What? No! Are you kidding? We’re not talking about me.”

  “Then why bring the Amityville Horror into the conversation?”

  “It’s not me, you dumbass,” John grated through clenched teeth. “It’s you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  They stared at each other in silence, blinking occasionally.

  He wasn’t usually so damn slow on the uptake, but it took him a good minute to shift the puzzle pieces around in his brain before realization dawned.

  “Hold up. Are you saying what I think you are?”

  “It’s a Connie and Grace special.”

  “Aw, come on,” he barked. “Is our mother off her rocker? Quinn Montgomery is the female version of the anti-Christ. Someone else will have to ski her polar ice shelf because I’m not in the running. Nuh-uh. No fucking way.”

  “Jen says they’ve already discussed financials.”

  Ryan leaped from his seat and made a series of rude gestures. “Are you telling me your snotty, uptight assistant is stirring the pot with our mother and aunt?”

  “Hell, no,
” John replied. “As a matter of fact, she reacted quite, uh …” He shrugged. “Vehemently? Is that a good word?”

  “How the fuck am I supposed to know?” He was nonsensically yelling now and didn’t care.

  “Okay, calm the hell down.” John waved his hands and took a theatrically deep breath. “Let’s back up, shall we?”

  Ryan started pacing. Motherfucking, goddamn, horse shit, ball clamp. This was precisely why he avoided the city. No matter what, it was always a shitshow. Why hadn’t he gone to Denver after leaving Alaska instead of coming here?

  Denver was home base—not that his family knew that. The sixty acres of stunning countryside he picked up for next to nothing was where he’d hung his hat for the past year when he wasn’t traveling the world in his role as the face of Lloyd Outdoors. For reasons he didn’t care to pick apart, the real estate acquisition was a secret that only he and his personal lawyer knew anything about.

  “Feel free to throw it into reverse,” Ryan grumbled, “but I’ll tell you this. Ain’t no way I’m falling into a marriage trap with a cold fish like Quinn. And believe me, dude, I’ll be explaining that to those two meddlers as soon as I can.”

  As if she’d been waiting in the wings for her cue, Jen breezed into John’s office after a halfhearted knock and gave them both a look so dry he got windburn from it.

  “Let’s do this.” She rather pointedly consulted her watch before looking from John to him. “I don’t have all day.”

  Dead silence greeted her remark, so she snapped her fingers and clapped her hands once. “Hello?”

  Twenty minutes ago, the idea of cornering Jen into having lunch with him seemed like shit tons of fun. He liked messing with her. Jenna Carlton and her uptight ways were practically the only reason he ventured into the despicable concrete jungle. But right now, the last thing he wanted to do was wrangle with her. Not when what he really wanted was …