Molly’s face heated.

“Ah, a while, then. Even longer, I’ll bet, before he gave you the rest of the story.”

Don’t listen to him.

“So are you one of those women who will excuse anything that ‘Con Man’ the big-time fighter says or does just because you’re so thankful he’s with you?” Clive gave her a cruel once-over. “Even without the trust fund, Deacon is out of your league.”

“You know nothing about the man he is now.”

“On the contrary, I know he is violent and self-centered. He’s got an immense ego and a chip on his shoulder the size of Texas. He’s the same privileged prick he’s always been. Nothing changes with him. He does what he wants and damn the consequences.”

Ooh. Sounds like Clive has his cousin pegged, doesn’t it?

The voices in the room escalated.

“The smartest thing for you to do is to walk away from him. Because sooner or later, he will drive you away. That’s who he is and what he does.”

“Why do you care?”

“That’s the thing—I don’t care. But this whole situation is a train wreck, and I can’t look away.”

“I’d think you’d want him in a good place, Clive.”

His eyes narrowed into snakelike slits. “Why?”

“So he doesn’t throw his support behind Tag to sell JFW and you’re out on your ass.”

“Deacon telling you confidential information about a possible upcoming official vote will be seen as a breach of confidentiality, and he won’t be allowed to vote. That may even get him kicked off the board.” His grin defined evil, and she shivered. “You just couldn’t help yourself, could you? Proving me wrong that Deacon does talk to you about important things.”

Oh god. How had she fallen for that? “But—”

The door opened and Julianne hustled out, tears streaming down her face.

Clive intercepted her. “Aunt Julianne? What’s going on?”

She shook her head. “Personal family business that he just—” Julianne glared at Molly. “Why are you still hanging around?”

“I thought Deacon might need me.”

“Why don’t you be a good little girlfriend and go wait for him in bed at the hotel?” she snapped.

Molly wanted to crawl into a hole. But first she wanted to puke.

Except you brought this on yourself. She thinks you’re fine being Deacon’s sexual plaything.

Dammit. Stuff like this always came back to bite her in the ass.

Before she could explain, Clive had his arm around Julianne’s shoulders and was leading her away.

When ten more minutes passed and Deacon still hadn’t appeared, Molly had enough of waiting around and supposing.

She had plans of her own to make.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

THE next morning Tag fell into step with Deacon as he started down the hallway at the JFW office building.

“You’re early.” He checked out Deacon’s clothing—the sport coat and dress slacks he’d worn to the country club last night. “And you don’t look like a bum. What’s up? Did you just get out of jail or something?”

“Nope.” Deacon punched the elevator button and leaned against the wall. “Fuck, I’m tired.”

“Molly keep you up all night?”

Deacon scowled at him.

“Not the kiss-and-tell type. Gotta respect that.” Tag leaned next to him. “How was Molly this morning?”

“I imagine she was fine. Why?”

“Imagine? Weren’t you with her at the hotel?”

“No. I had to deal with the fallout after confronting Julianne and Dad. It took longer than I expected.” The details weren’t something he wanted to share with his cousin.

Tag stepped in front of him. “But you were with Molly last night? After the party?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Why’re you bein’ so fucking nosy about where I was?”

“Answer the question, Deacon.”

“No. I didn’t go back to the hotel last night. Like I said, some shit came to a head with my folks. Dad refused to go home. Then, when I went to find Molly to tell her what was going on, she’d already left. When I returned to Dad, he’d decided to down half a bottle of Jameson. He demanded I bring him here to his office. Then he spent an hour puking his guts out. Freaked me out, so I ended up staying with him.” And after his twenty-mile run, his lack of sleep the night before, the stress with the fight, finding out about Warren, the board meeting shit, it was more like he passed out when he hit the couch in the reception area upstairs at one a.m. “Why?”