Now wasn’t the time to think about what she needed to do or the fact that she needed to do those things with Quinn. It was just part of the deal that would end with her bringing Blackwood Manor back to life, having a beautiful baby, keeping B.T. Construction safe, and, of course, getting revenge.
That was all that mattered.
And she was going to keep telling herself that until she believed it, Dylan decided as she took her time selecting another coffee roll. She made a deal and now, she-
“Or I could always be the one to tell Dad that you bought Blackwood Manor after he told you to stay away from it…” Brooke said, letting her words trail off with a helpless shrug.
“And I could always tell Dad that you blackmailed me and stole the credit for my designs,” Dylan said, matching her shrug.
“You could,” Brooke murmured in agreement before adding, “But unfortunately, it won’t matter since your services are no longer needed.”
“You can’t fire me,” Dylan reminded her with a pitying look. “Dad promised that I’d always have a job here if I needed one, and since I need to fix all the violations that you got Blackwood Manor hit with, I’m going to keep doing my job.”
“Not yet anyway,” Brooke said with that same smug look that she had on her face when she made sure that Dylan found out that Santa wasn’t real. It took everything that she had at that moment to keep her mouth shut. They had a plan and letting her sister know that she got married less than an hour ago wasn’t part of it, no matter how badly she wanted to wipe that smug smile off her sister’s face.
“Well, until then, I’m going to keep doing what it is that I do best,” Dylan said, holding up her coffee roll in mock salutebefore she took a bite and moved to find a spot to work, only to end up biting back another sigh when her sister stopped her.
“I’m afraid that’s going to be a problem since your position no longer exists,” Brooke said with a pitying look.
“The last time I checked, you can’t build homes without designs,” Dylan pointed out, wondering how far Brooke was willing to go with this.
“True,” Brooke murmured, looking thoughtful as she took a sip of her cappuccino. “But since B.T. Construction will no longer be making homes next year, there’s no reason for you to stay.”
“B.T. Construction isn’t yours yet,” Dylan bit out.
“Well, since we both know that Quinn will never get married and you’re not interested in taking B.T. Construction over, that leaves me,” Brooke said with a soft sigh as she took another sip.
“Don’t you think you’re getting ahead of yourself?” Dylan said with a pointed look at Brooke’s bare ring finger.
“Probably,” Brooke murmured with a smirk that really said it all.
She already had a plan.
“You’ll need someone to design the condos,” Dylan pointed out, knowing that she needed to play along.
For now.
“And I already found someone,” Brooke said as that smirk turned into a smug smile. “But I don’t want you to worry, so I came up with a new position just for you.”
“And that would be…” Dylan said, having a really bad feeling about this.
“My bitch.”
CHAPTER 8
This was so much worse than he thought, Quinn realized as he stood there, taking in what was left of Blackwood Manor and-
Christ, he just needed a minute, he thought, slowly exhaling as he glanced down at his feet and took in what was left of the cobblestone driveway peeking through thick layers of packed dirt, weeds, and trash. From there, he followed the path lined with thick weeds, broken stones, and the occasional hole until he came to what remained of the front steps.
God, this was fucking bad, Quinn thought as he took in the piece of warped plywood secured to the house where the door should have been, the shattered windows that were going to have to be ripped out, the rotted shingles covered in ivy shriveled up against the house, and what remained of the roof and found himself wondering what the hell she was thinking.
“I have a question,” Tristan said, only to pause before amending that to, “Make that two,” as Quinn glanced from the patch of ivy that covered more than half the house to the overgrown lawn covered in weeds, trash, old tires, and the remains of several oak trees that had fallen over the years.
“Will it piss me off?” Quinn asked as he turned around and reached into the back of his truck and grabbed a crowbar.
“Probably,” Tristan said, helping himself to a sledgehammer while Quinn grabbed a screwdriver and slid it into his back pocket before grabbing a small level. “Do you really think this is a good idea?”
“Which part?” Quinn asked as they made their way back to the house.
