Bastard Boss

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Tyler

I'm reeling with my father's words.

I grab the form I'd filled out where it still rests on the table. Withers has not filled in the transfer amount.

The door opens and I pop to my feet, expecting Withers, but instead, it's his secretary, Tabitha, a middle-aged brunette with a no-nonsense attitude. "Mr. Withers had an emergency and he realized he forgot to give you a document. He believes it's quite important." She hands it to me and hurries away. In a blink, the door is shut again.

I open the document and curse. Inside, I find the detailed account of a case I was dragged into years ago as co-council to my father. He broke laws to protect a client and cover up crimes. I was told they would kill us if we crossed them. My father also assured me that if I opened my mouth, I'd be disinherited. Now, it's come back to haunt me. There is a sticky note—a damn sticky note—attached to the documents, with another note written in my father's script. "Son, don't be stupid. The minute you take my will to court, this goes public. I don't give two bleeps what it does to Hawk Legal. I'm dead."

And I'm buried, I think.

He was ruthless.

He's ensured I have two options.

I either marry or walk away from my birthright.

My cellphone rings again and I glance at the caller ID. It's Bella. I answer the line. "Yes, Bella?"

"The studio head wants to see me tomorrow afternoon. I hate to put you in this position, but I think I need my bad cop along for the ride."

Bella wants me to travel to LA with her, which in my present state of mind is not a safe proposition for her but right now, I don't give two shits. "I'll pick you up at your place at three. We'll fly out tonight."

"Okay," she says. "I, uh—Tyler, we—"

"Have business to attend, Bella. I'll pick you up at five." I disconnect and sit there a moment, processing what just happened. And I think of Bella. I think about Bella way too much for the good of either of us. I glance down at the folder and open it again, giving the document another read-through and finding no escape clause. "That bastard," I bite out, accepting the inevitable,

I dial the third person in my armory of trusted allies, Gavin McCloud, my attorney. "I need a contract drawn up."