C22, PT. 1

Tucker glared at her. “You’re making jokes?”

She waved her flute of champagne. “Just trying to make polite conversation.”

His lip curled. “You think you’ll get polite conversation from me after what you did to my family?”

She scanned their surroundings for his father, Parker, or even Ford, who could stop this from escalating. Despite being the older sibling, Tucker had been the impulsive, irresponsible one. Making a scene wouldn’t benefit either of them, but Tucker was clearly past caring about the consequences. She didn’t see any Baldwins in the vicinity, but she noticed those around them edging away to watch from a safe distance.

“That was a long time ago, Tucker,” she said quietly, willing him to get a hold of himself.

“Not long enough,” he said grimly. “We’re still recovering from the destruction you wrought.”

“I didn’t—”

He stepped into her space, so close that her champagne glass was pinned between them.

“Are you really going to try to convince me that our fathers dissolved their partnership for some reason other your inability to keep your word or your legs closed?”

The blood drained from her face as a chorus of shocked gasps echoed around them. Tucker seemed oblivious to their audience as he leaned down, so close he was almost kissing her. She should move, but his palpable hatred stunned her into immobility. He looked like he wanted to strangle her with his bare hands.

“What choice did my father have but to cut ties with Maximus after you humiliated Ford? And how does Maximus respond? He forced everyone to choose to do business with him or us. We nearly went bankrupt when it was his fault that he had a slut for a daughter.”

Her paralysis finally broke. Moving jerkily, she tried to walk around him, but Tucker grabbed her arm. His grip was painful, but she didn’t protest. She couldn’t. Her heart was in her throat.

“Ford was going places. He had a mind for business. He could have taken us to the next level, but you broke him. While we were trying to keep our company afloat, he loses his mind and takes off to Columbia to become a farmer.”

Tucker said the last word with the same disdain others had for human traffickers or arms dealers.

She blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“Ford’s a coffee farmer in Columbia,” Tucker said with such fervor that flecks of spit hit her cheek. “I lost everything because of you. My wife left me and the stress landed my father in an early grave. I’ve worked my ass off to bring the company back from the brink. All these years later, my mother still can’t bring herself to get out of bed, and if that wasn’t enough, that half-breed shows up again and starts gunning for me.”

His fingers dug into her flesh, grinding together muscle and bone. He wanted to hurt her. She could see it in his eyes. He wanted a reaction, was hungry for one, so she gave him nothing.

“If your husband thinks I’m going to fold because he’s throwing his weight around, he’s mistaken.”

“Take your hand off me,” she ordered.

He ignored her demand and gave her an insulting perusal.

“I don’t know what Ford ever saw in you. Everyone told him he was making a mistake, but he wouldn’t listen. You were the only thing Ford fought for, so my father relented, allowing him one thing that nearly destroyed us.”

His grip tightened so much that she couldn’t suppress a flinch.

“You dare parade around as if you’re respectable and deserve to be here, when you’re only here because of who you screwed. I can’t believe you wore my grandmother’s ring while you were with him. You make me sick.”

“Tucker.”

Lyle appeared, clapping Tucker on the shoulder with more force than was necessary. He was smiling, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Take your hand off my sister before I break it.”

Tucker released her, but his nasty expression didn’t change as he faced off with Lyle. “I thought if anyone would stand up to him, it would be you. He bought a controlling share of Hennessy & Co right under your wife’s nose. It’s only a matter of time before he begins dismantling Maximus’ company. You’re just going to stand there and watch? You’re spineless.”

As Lyle went nose to nose with him, Jasmine grasped his arm. Lyle wasn’t prone to violence, but Tucker clearly had a death wish.

“I’m going to have mercy on you and explain something that a dipshit like yourself doesn’t seem to grasp,” Lyle said with quiet savagery. “I don’t give a shit about Hennessy & Co. I never have. If my wife lost it, I would have popped a bottle of champagne. I don’t need anything from Maximus, and neither does she. I have more than enough to keep her living in luxury for the rest of her life.”

Tucker’s resentful expression altered. “You let him take over the company.”

“I hoped he’d burn it to the ground so we’d be done with it once and for all, but that’s irrelevant.”

As Lyle crowded Tucker, she tightened her grip on his jacket, ready to haul on it if necessary. Tucker Baldwin wasn’t worth ruining their night, but Lyle’s voice was tightly controlled as he imparted a warning.

“You fucked up when you approached Jasmine, but you signed your death warrant when you touched her. I know you lost the Reiner deal and called in a massive favor to get an invitation tonight. Instead of using this opportunity to forge another deal that would set you up for the rest of your life, you’re demonstrating everyone should avoid you. Attacking an honored guest of the Trentham’s and the wife of a man who has the resources to finish what Maximus started? Not smart, Tucker, but you never pretended to be. I suggest you try to make up for your lapse in judgment by kissing someone’s ass and begging them to do business with you, despite the gossip that will come from you causing such a scene. You better make the most of the time you have left. This is the last social event you’ll be invited to. I’ll make sure of that.”

**This is a raw draft of Bitter Confessions. Please do not share or distribute.

Copyright © 2024 Mia Knight. All Rights Reserved.