Burning Ultimatum (Trevor's Harem #4) (20 page)

“Daniel, you — !”
 

“And I do mean
much
better. Or, hey, check it out for yourself. You should
see
the outlay in the company books! We just paid cash. Fuck it.”

There’s a beat as I finish speaking, as Welty tries to decide if I’ll interrupt his next attempt. In the gap, I look at Bridget. She says nothing, just hugs me. Logan, his hands also wrist-deep in moving boxes, glances over. He’s a lecherous little fuck, but he knows better than to look at Bridget too long. I go almost as far back with Logan as I do with Trevor. He’s not like a brother, more like a wiseass cousin. But if he even thinks sexual thoughts in my woman’s direction, I’ll break his arm off and leave the stump bleeding.

“You’ll pay for this,” Welty says. “When I tell the rest of the board, they’ll go right after Trevor and Jessica and — ”
 

I sit up. I’m tired of the conversation and of playing with my prey. It’s time to finish this off and hang up so we can get back to Wesley and Princess Buttercup. Apparently, Richard is a kid at heart. He’s only watching as he passes through the room, but he’s made plea after plea that we put on
Labyrinth
next. Fucking David Bowie, dying too young and leaving us without him.

So when I cut Welty off this time, my voice is sharp. Up until now, I’ve been fucking with him, but fun is fun, and I have so many better things to do.
 

“Go to the board,” I snap. “Call Alexa right now on another line.
Do it
, Tom. I’ll wait.”
 

He stammers.
 

“I’ve already talked to the rest of them. First to Alexa then to the others. I’ve called most of the private investors, too. The ones whose stock you so deliciously influenced against me.”
 

“You don’t even know who the investors are!”
 

“Yes. And I’ll never be so careless again. That’s why the second I was reinstated and my bank account was unlocked, I bought them out at a very generous appreciated price.” I pause. “Well, not all of them. Just 51 percent, so that nobody will ever be able to pull the carpet out from under me at my own fucking company again.”
 

“How … ? What … ?”
 

“They were all very concerned with their investments when I explained that the algorithm upon which you’ve staked Eros’s entire future is flawed, and yet you’ve continued to shove more Eros assets behind it.”
 

Welty’s voice is bitter. “You’re bluffing. The investors would never believe your bullshit.”
 

“Probably not,” I tell him. “But they believed Dr. Barnes.”
 

I almost hear a “B” sound from the other end of the phone, as if Welty is trying to digest “Barnes” and choking on it.
 

“Your problem,” I say, “is that your ego blinds you to what’s in front of your face. A whole person can admit his shortcomings, but not you. You pretend you’re an expert. And that makes you sloppy, when you mess with things you don’t understand. Like Halo.”
 

“I understand Halo just fine!”
 

“If you understood, you’d know it was broken. That we can’t rely on it, as you so wanted to. The rest of the board saw it, once Barnes and I explained. That’s why the program is being dismantled. Alexa will want to try again with a new system, I’m sure. Maybe something with the Internet. Do you know about the Internet, Welty? It’s all the rage these days. Ripe for a company like ours to mine and exploit and adapt.”

“Halo is not broken!”
 

My patience slips another notch. Now I’m getting angry.
 

“It’s like I said,” I snap back at him. “You pretend you understand, but you don’t. You don’t have my background. You haven’t studied like I have. You don’t have help and support and connections and depthless research like I do. Which is why you’re disposable, and I will always be essential.”
 

“What the hell are you going on about?”
 

“Halo chose Bridget to win,” I say. “That much you know. But you don’t know that the AVPR1A receptor gene has different variants. One phenotype has a short promoter region, and one has a long promoter region. Or am I wrong?
Did
you know that, Tom?”
 

“I … ”
 

“Did you know that in prairie vole and montane vole studies, AVPR1A expression has proved to be highly susceptible to epigenetic influence? Did you know that, if you swap a long promoter for a short one, you can make a monogamous animal into a player? Did you know that if you do the opposite, you can turn a player into a lover with a single bonded mate?”
 

“I can’t possibly see how — ”

Now I’m rolling. I blast through Welty’s words, imagining a punch to his face.
 

 
“And did you know how influential oxytocin is on gene expression? Do you understand how a vole … or, as it turns out, a person … can become more sensitive to it over time?”
 

“The fact that you can spew jargon at me doesn’t change the fact that — ”

“Bridget shouldn’t have won!”
I shout, loud enough to make Bridget wince. “Halo said she won, but she didn’t! Can your closed fucking little mind understand
that?”
 

The first note of hesitancy enters his voice. All of a sudden, Welty’s no longer so sure he’s correct, because he very much isn’t.
 

“I have two sets of test results. One of my and Bridget’s AVPR1A sequence and oxytocin levels before we met and one that was taken after we’d been together. Oh, you should see them, Tom. Bridget? She was a mess. You didn’t need a psychiatrist to know how fucked up she was. You could see it right there in her gene expression and hormones. I wasn’t much better, I’m a bit ashamed to admit. Looking at our test results all those months ago, it’d be obvious to any trained neuroscientist that we were two very broken people. ‘Incapable of trust,’ they might call us. ‘Unable to bond.’ ‘Unable to
love.’”
 

Welty sort of coughs. I feel his wariness across miles and miles of open air.
 

I faux-soften my voice. “But oh,
Tom
. The
after
test results. You should see
those
. Now Bridget and I are like a Hallmark card made of nucleic acid base pairs. Our oxytocin levels test like a love potion. You’ve never
seen
such a turnaround. We’re like two rundown shacks lovingly restored to mansions.”
 

Hesitantly, Welty says, “I don’t see how … ” This time, he trails off instead of me needing to interrupt.
 

“Halo said Bridget won. But Halo knew full well that the winner would go with Trevor and be with him forever,
forsaking all others.
But she’s mine, Tom. Bridget is mine, and I’m hers. So she can’t win. And if you did similar tests on Jessica and Trevor, I’m sure you’d see the same: just as Bridget couldn’t win because she’s meant for me, Jessica couldn’t lose because she’s meant for Trevor.”
 

“It’s just … it’s circumstantial!”
 

“Close. It’s circumstances that rewrite who we are.”
 

“You’re bluffing. You’re — ” But he’s lost, and doesn’t know where to go. I almost pity the man.
 

Almost.

“I’m not bluffing. I’ve made my case to the board. Barnes, who understands and won’t tolerate science this sloppy, has made the case alongside me. I’ve been reinstated as CEO and have bought back my shares so I can never be usurped again. Halo is finished.” My eyes flick to Tony, who’s listening. “And so are you.”
 

“You can’t remove me from the board!”
 

“I already have. You’ll find your company account broken. Your vehicles repossessed. I even think a lot of your wardrobe was purchased on company expense accounts.”

“But Halo’s flaw isn’t a deal breaker! It’s … it’s just an adjustment. We can recalibrate Halo to account for … to include results of … ”
 

“Let it go, Tom. Humans are too complex for
any
algorithm. Lesser animals are all chemistry and no cortex, but human beings can use those big brains of ours to move past chemical mandates. We can
choose
. We can overcome our biological destinies. We can reshuffle the hand that nature dealt us, if we find the right person to assist a change.”
 

“But … it’s just chemicals! If we find a lab to … ”
 

I cut Welty off one final time.
 

“You’ll never find love,” I say, looking at Bridget, “through a lens.”
 

I hang up the phone.
 

Bridget leans into me, and I wrap my arm around her.
 

And our lives, together, go on.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

I like Abigail. And I like Gavin. So far, I like all of Bridget’s friends. I met many of them back when we were in Inferno, when things were darkest. But despite my anger at what Welty tried to do, those people were shining moments in the gloom. Thinking about it now gives me hope. If Trevor hadn’t pointed me toward my redemption, things would have been okay. I’d have been poor. I’d have been unjustly robbed of all I’d built. But I’d have had Bridget, and she was the decision I made when given my ultimatum. I’d have been happy, once adjusted. Content with her, and good people like these.

Standing here beside my friend Hunter Altman and Trevor, Bridget’s studio has the feel of a casual summit. Because across from us are Bridget and her friends, and we’re all so different, yet so much the same. Two worlds colliding. Two halves becoming whole, the way Bridget and I complete each other.

The song finishes. The speakers go quiet. Bridget started this with the idea to produce audiobooks like the ones she spent years narrating, but once the idea of producing Gavin and Abigail’s album entered her head, she wouldn’t let it go. She knew nothing about the specifics of music versus voice but delved in with a vengeance while my people were moving her into the studio. Bridget’s adaptable. She’ll always become more than she is, and that’s something I love about her. I still see the hard little brat I met all those years ago, now with new layers atop her.
 

I look at Hunter. The recording sounded damn good to me, but I’m hardly an audiophile. Hunter’s the one in the music business, with a reputation for being dead honest to the point of cruelty. I love Hunter but understand his haters. He’s good to most people, but watch out when he’s an ass. He’s awful to his constantly rotating parade of girlfriends, but Trevor and I know he’d have rescued his stepsister from the ghetto long ago if her pride hadn’t stubbornly prevented it … and if Hunter hadn’t grown a caustic shell to pretend her plight didn’t matter against his riches.
 

We all look at Hunter. Trevor and I know that the next thing he says might be cutting, and I warned Bridget of the same before she okay’d me to call him. I wasn’t sure she told Abigail and Gavin, but I can see now that she must have. They look like a dog afraid of a beating.
 

“That was hot as hell,” Hunter says.

And from there, it’s easy. We all clasp hands, slap backs. Spared insults, Bridget asks for feedback on her production and mastering. Abigail asks for feedback on the song’s lyrics. Gavin asks about his guitar skills and his voice. Nobody asks about money, because it feels like a jinx. But there will be plenty.
 

It seems appropriate, as the studio empties, that the band’s music plays on the overhead speakers, now on a loop. The first time I met Bridget in person — when I wanted to hurt her — this song had just been played from stage in that little club. Every couple has their story. Some start on highs and some on lows, but where they end up is all that really matters. And this is our song, like it or not.
 

As we’re getting into Bridget’s new car — a Camry; girl just won’t level up to a luxury vehicle no matter how much I make fun of her — she puts her hand on my arm. I look over.
 

“Thank you, Daniel,” she says softly.
 

“For what?”

“You know what for.”
 

“For Hunter?”
 

“For everything. But yes, also for calling Hunter. You’re too good to me.”
 

I usually say,
Nothing is too good for you.
But she’s heard it so many times, she’s started using her husky voice to mock my words. So I smile and say, “You’re welcome.”
 

“I heard from Linda.”
 

“From your mom?” I’m surprised. They’ve been on radio blackout since the move. I’ve had my people on the case to make sure any communication was totally and completely secure before I’d let them try to speak. But I guess it was completed earlier than I’d thought.
 

“Yes. She says they’re doing well.”
 

“Well. That’s good.”
 

“Thank you,” she says again. “I finally told Brandon all about her, and he said I should tell you — ”

I put a finger to her lips. I know she’s about to thank me again, this time using Brandon as a loophole.
 

“Stop. Don’t thank me. This is what I do.”
 

“Yes. Males protect their mates.”
 

An eyebrow rises. Hers, then mine.
 

“What?”

“And males want admiration in return.”
 

“Where are you getting this shit, Bridget Miller?”
 

She tries to be serious, but I know she’s fucking with me. I can already see her sarcastic lips trembling as she holds in a laugh.
 

“I want to say something romantic to you, Daniel,” she says, still mock-serious.
 

“You’re such an asshole,” I say.
 

But she tells me the romantic thing anyway.
 

“You increase the number of D2 receptors in my nucleus accumbens.”