“I think Tim formed some kind of emotional attachment to her when she was staying with him. After she left, he went into some kind of funk, not returning my phone calls, refusing to answer his front door. I had one of your PIs sit out front and keep an eye on him. The pictures they forwarded to me are disturbing.”
I reach for my Hermes Birkin bag and remove the folder containing the photos before sliding it over to him.
“He looks like he suffered some kind of breakdown—unshaven, despondent, glassy-eyed,” Conrad says flippantly, tossing the images of Tim’s demise back on the table. “You think he’s no longer mentally stable? That he might do something he’d regret?”
“Exactly,” I agree, glad that he’s voicing my concerns for me.
He removes his gold Cartier eyeglasses, twirling them by the stem, already recalculating his plan around what he views as nothing more than an annoying obstacle. He doesn’t see Tim as a human being. He never did. He’s just a bug to be crushed if he tries to get in the way.
“How much have we given him so far for his silence?” Conrad asks, testing me to see if I know the exact figure off the top of my head, because I know he surely does.
“$62,500 with an offer on the table to triple that if the screenplay is delivered on time and without incident. A cool quarter of a million for his trouble. I don’t see him backing out. I really don’t.” I push my chair away from the table, placing my elbows on my knees, ready to level with him. “I still have that leverage on his brother. I know you don’t want Ryan’s involvement leaked. I’m just hypothesizing the worst-case scenario if it comes down to protecting your reputation over your son’s. You’re the bigger fish. We’ve already discussed this. He takes the bullet so Price Enterprises remains scandal free. Investors want the integrity of their CEO to remain impeccable, and it will. You have my word.”
“Lauren, I strongly encourage you to get this Michael Phelps wannabe back in line, because if it comes down to airing my son’s dirty laundry in public or dealing with this young man, I’ll have no problem eliminating him from the equation. Do I make myself clear?” Conrad narrows his eyes at me, taking my Hail Mary pass off the table.
He can’t even look at his own son, but he has the gall to barter with the life of an innocent man to keep Ryan’s sexuality a secret. I nod hastily, too afraid not to agree with him. Backed into a corner, he’s capable of doing anything to safeguard the Price name—anything.
But Conrad’s the one who screwed up. He’s the one who got Cassidy pregnant. And he’s determined to make Tim pay the price for his indiscretion one way or another. He found the guy to pin it on, the one willing to take the fall, and he’s going to milk it for all it’s worth. Tim’s not walking away from this, no matter how much he wants to tell Ivy the truth. If those fateful words ever leave his lips, he’s a dead man, plain and simple.
My mind fast-forwards to Eric. If Tim tells Ivy, she’s sure to tell Eric. Then they’ll all come under Conrad’s radar. They’ll all be targeted. Conrad can’t let it get out that he knocked up the girl who died of cancer, America’s tragic little sweetheart. She’s not just some random college student who attended one of his seminars. She’s Cassidy, Eric’s Cassidy. The girl my stepfather couldn’t keep his hands off of.
He intimidated her into silence. He bought mine, and I bought Tim’s. But will Conrad’s money be enough to keep Tim quiet now that Ivy’s involved? I just don’t know.
The stakes have definitely been raised.
Chapter Sixteen
Ivy
It’s still dark out even though it’s technically morning.
The hands on the clock are nearing four thirty. Ben should be bringing Tim by any minute. But why do guys have to get up so darn early when they go hunting? I don’t think I slept a wink last night, and I’m mad because I wanted to be as sharp as possible for this. My brain is a little fuzzy, but that doesn’t mean my heart’s not racing. I’m only going to get one shot at convincing Tim to walk away from Lauren, and I need to be persuasive.
I bend my knees and hug them to my chest. I wipe the frost off the window with the back of my sleeve and stare out. Eric pulled a chair over for me so I wouldn’t have to stand. I watch as he putters around the kitchen, trying to rustle up some coffee. If all I did was toss and turn next to him in bed, then I know he’s not that well rested either. He’s putting on a brave face, but I know this has to be hard for him. He probably thought that he’d never have to welcome Tim into the cabin he built for Cassidy.