"She won't sell it," Arabella said in exasperation.
"Then, we have to outmaneuver her," Knox replied, just as determined as I was.
"I told you," Arabella said with a stubborn crease between her brows, "you can listen, but you are not allowed to get involved in this. You just got away from her schemes," she said with a point toward Knox. "And you're annoying," she finished with me.
"And you're too stubborn for your own good," I shot back. "You're telling me you're going to walk down the aisle with some puppet of Sylvia's without even trying to fight back?"
"I'm doing what I have to," Arabella volleyed. "I don't want to, but this is the only option. She'll never sell it to either of you, not that you could afford it, and her inflated interest rates are iron-clad, legally. She has every right to hold it over my head. So, I'm going to save my ranch. End of story." She rounded an accusatory glare toward her brother. "Do not barge in and make it worse."
"This is actually insane," I said bluntly. "Next level, batshit—"
"Okay," Knox said suddenly. Arabella and I swiveled matching looks of mute surprise his way. Knox remained nonplussed, his severe features relaxed and, if I didn't know him any better, even indifferent. But I did know him. He had his plotting face on. That was the expression that usually preceded a move that led to his opponent's crushing defeat. Sometimes literally, especially when we were on the mat. "You told me not to interfere," he said smoothly. "I won't interfere."
Arabella cinched her eyelids distrustfully. "What's the catch?"
"No catch." Rook picked up his own straw and casually unwrapped it before poking it into the lid. "It's your life, Ara. You asked us to listen, and we did." He sent a hard look my way that clearly conveyed his thoughts.Not a word more.
My eyebrows drifted together slowly, but I held my tongue. Arabella split a concerned look between us, and then her phone rang. Relieved, most likely because she didn't have to sit through our interrogation anymore, she stood and answered. "Hello? Aimee! Yes, hi. Right now?" She glanced at her crackedsmartwatch. "Absolutely. I'll meet you there in fifteen. Yeah, me too. Thanks. Bye."
When Arabella turned to us again, it was with her usual, brisk demeanor. "Thanks for listening. I'm sorry to burden you with this. It's just, you both happened to be there, and—well, I wasn't really myself."
Wasn't herself. Arabella hadno cluehow increasingly difficult it had been for me to be around her for most of our lives without grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking somerealnessinto her. She had no inkling of the torture she'd forced me to endure over the years, caring about her from afar but never able to show it. Desiring her as we’d both grown into adults and then quickly stifling those feelings before they could actually take root.
She was my best friend's sister, and his younger sister at that. Knox would have smothered me in my sleep if I'd so much as ogled her, let alone touched her. And now, here she was, in the absolute worst dire straits I could have imagined for any woman, and she wanted me to justignore it.
I opened my mouth to tell her exactly what I thought about her pea-brained obstinacy, but Knox smashed my foot with his heel. My words caught in my throat, and I choked. Arabella didn't notice, too busy gathering up her food and drink and then rushing away from us. "I'll see you both on Thanksgiving," she said a little too brightly.
I started to get up and go after her, but Knox put a firm hand on my shoulder. We were well-matched in strength, but he obviously had some plan he was keeping to himself, so I let him. I snapped my mouth shut and stayed put. Arabella disappeared through the door, and my eyes landed on her chair where my coat still hung off the back. Yep, I won my own bet.
With a mutinous glare, I turned to face my friend. "The fuck?"
Knox released me, calmly opening the lid over his sandwich. "Think it through, Spence. No matter how much you berate her, is she going to accept our help?"
My hand tightened around my drink. "No," I gritted out.
"So, we have to be smarter than that." Knox sipped his drink, thinking. "And Sylvia."
"Sylvia isn't smart," I countered. "She's just unscrupulous."
"Right," Knox agreed. "So, we need a way to extricate Arabella from her hold without requiring Arabella's cooperation."
My grip tightened, and the lid popped off the cup. Through my teeth, I forced out, "How?"
Knox glanced at my cup, mildly amused, and then back to me. "Your reaction gives me a pretty good idea, actually."
"I'm breathless with anticipation," I intoned.
"What Arabella needs is someone on her side. Someone who can fulfill the requirements of Sylvia's demands and then twist them into Arabella's favor."
I didn't follow. "What, like a lawyer?"
"No, but that does hold some merit after we disentangle Ara from her immediate problems. What she needs right now is a husband who cares about her."
Tendrils of suspicion slithered around my heart. "Oh boy."
Knox's pale gaze held mine. "A husband who would fight for her from the inside."
"Knox," I warned. He lifted his eyebrows. Around a sigh, I added, "It's one thing to want to help her. It's another thing entirely to ask me to marry your sister. I like her and all, but… no."
