And of course, my father, being my father, started off trying to unsettle him. Which I appreciated because he was sure as shit unsettling me. "Let's hope you have something interesting to say, Price."

  My gaze swiveled between the two of them, and then the sickening realization hit. My father was selling research and development to him. "Dad, you can't be serious."

  "That's enough, Gwen."

  "Dad—"

  He cut me off. "Leave us. We have actual work to do."

  I prayed for a sign that my father was joking, that maybe he was just humoring Atticus, but he wasn't.

  "Dad?" I tried to find a hint of the father I had known once. The one who had been kind and listened. That man had vanished the moment my mother got sick.

  "I run this company, Gwen, and have done so for far longer than you've been alive. I make the decisions."

  Atticus's assessing gaze met mine. There was something there. It looked like fury. But why would he be angry at me? I hadn't even done anything yet.

  And just what do you plan on doing with him?

  Not the point.

  "Dad, R&D is my department. Before we were your R&D, it was my startup. You can't just expect me to stand by idly while you sell us off."

  "I can and I do. I’m the CEO of Becks Incorporated. I make this decision."

  Our guest however, inclined his head toward the couch in the corner and nodded at me. "Why don't you join us, Gwen?"

  For someone giving Arctic vibes, there was a sizzling heat to his voice. Something to scorch and give you an ice burn all at the same time. My father clearly hadn't intended for me to join their meeting, but Atticus didn't budge and then gestured an arm out for me to take a seat on the couch before he would sit. As if this was his office. I watched my father's eyes go wide, and I had to bite back a smile. Well, well, wasn't Atticus Price interesting? If he could ruin Dad's day, then I wanted to watch.

  I took the corner by the window, which put me between the two of them as they took their seats. When Atticus sat, his gaze anchored my father and then swung onto me. "So you're the one behind the algorithm."

  It was a statement, not a question. "Yes, why?"

  If I was expecting an answer, I'd be waiting a long damn time because all he did was give me a curt nod as his intense stare drank me in. That was the only way to describe it. He watched me like I was the answer to a question he was trying to figure out. His brow lifted ever so slightly, and because I was a masochist and had become a connoisseur of his mouth, I watched as he pressed his lips ever so slightly together. "That is interesting."

  My father’s harsh voice snapped the cord of tension tightening between us. "There is no need for Gwen to be here."

  I clamped my jaw tight. We needed an out. Just not this out. Maybe I needed to pray to the tech gods of rich and ethical investors. "We're not for sale."

  My father let out a harsh chuckle. "Sorry to break it to you, Gwen, but everything is on the table providing the deal is good. Because let's face it, Bronson Jacobson is the other option."

  My gut twisted. I would put the algorithm up on an open source website before I’d let Jacobson have it. I didn’t care if he alone could save my father’s company from his excesses. "There is no way in hell I'm letting you sell off all my work to Jacobson."

  My unlikely ally spoke up. "Look, Jacobson perhaps is a better fit in some regards, but Pendragon is moving into new technologies, and your software has many applications. The base code allows for raid AI learning, and those models, if applied in the right way, could be extraordinarily useful in the energy space. And before Gwen interjects, because I can see it on her face right now.”

  “Look, I hear you, but the only way this works for me is if you keep my whole tram and they keep their salaries.”

  Cocking his head, he studied me. “That’s open to negotiation.”

  “Negotiation? That’s not enough. I need to take care of them.”

  “Like I said, everything is on the table. There's opportunity for movement and growth for those we retain. It's a generous offer. But we need to access the division. But don’t worry. For those we keep, they will get the full benefit of everything Pendragon has to offer, retention bonuses as well as the standard benefits, of course."

  My blood ran cold. That was a good deal…for those he retained. But how many would that be? Not to mention, he sounded like it was a forgone conclusion. I hadn't agreed to anything. That was not the deal my father and I had made when I came to work with him four years ago.

  Four years ago, there was money.

  Four years ago, I signed on the dotted line.

  I had, but I hadn't expected this. I hadn't anticipated my father pulling the rug from under me. I wasn't ready to give up yet. I just needed more time. "You can't be serious, Dad." I could feel my blood pressure rising. “You keep saying how this is a family company. Well, he is not family."

  My father's cold anger whipped out like icicles toward me. "Gwen, that is enough!"

  His shout was the splash of cold water I’d needed. Shit. I was fucking losing it.

  Of course, I was fucking losing it. I was watching my life's work filter through my fingers like water. "Dad⁠—"

  "You are done here."

  Ice-cold bricks of shame pelted my skin as I grabbed my laptop and stood. There was nothing left to do but stand and let my failure flow out of me as I walked away, leaving my father to make a deal with Atticus Price.

  Chapter 4

  Atticus

  My skin tingled and prickled as she walked out.

  Fuck me.

  The other night had not been a fluke. Being this close to her, I just kept looking at her skin and wanting to touch it. She looked so soft. Unfortunately, judging by how bad this meeting just went down, she had not been expecting to see me. Which was bad news.

  "I gather not everyone is on board with the sale?" I asked her father.

  He waved me off. "My daughter is prone to hysterics. But I hope that doesn't influence your interest in purchasing our R&D arm."

  "No, of course. Pendragon is serious. The terms are favorable. I have already sent them over."

  He lifted a brow. "There's just one thing. The other night, we spoke of partnership and how important it is."

  "Of course."

  "Well, I was serious about that. Becks has been a family business for two generations now. I don't intend for that to change."

  "Well, of course we would leave your daughter in place. And give you access to her software as needed. It's not like we're acquiring all of Becks."

  "No, you don't understand. I don't just want an investment. I want a true partnership. While we could sell off the R&D arm, it's more like a merger of sorts."

  I lifted a brow and sat back. My gut tried to warn me. Becker was slippery. And he thought he was slick enough to get one over on me.

  "Why don't you tell me what you're thinking," I said through clenched teeth.

  "Since Becks Inc. has always been a family business, we need to keep it that way. And so, I'd like to make you a proposition."

  "If you want to negotiate more for favorable terms, like how much longer we'll keep the employees, we can discuss that. I, however, want all of the technology. No negotiating behind my back with Jacobson. It’s a nonstarter. No games."

  "Absolutely. No games. I'm a man of my word. And I think you're a man of yours."

  He was up to something. Something I knew I wasn't going to like.

  "I'm so glad we're in agreement, because the only way I'm going to let any part of Becks go is if we keep it in the family."

  A tingle of alarm on my scalp had me lifting my brow and watching him closely. "Exactly what do you mean by that?"

  "What I mean is, in order for me to let R&D go, you're going to marry my daughter. And of course, fulfill all of the terms you set forth. Obviously, you would also provide her with a generous prenuptial agreement for a ten-year term."

  I did the only thing I could. I laughed. "Not happening."

  He sat back again. "In that case, I think I'll go and see what kind of deal I can make with Jacobson."

  The fucker. I knew the powerplay he was trying to make. And considering the man was up against the wall, he had no bargaining power other than the threat of making a deal with my nemesis. However, I did remember something my father had always said. Always be warier of a caged man than a free one. There's no telling what they'll do for their freedom. And it seemed that James Becker was willing to bargain with his daughter.

  I thought back to the way Gwen had walked out. Then I remembered our first meeting on the balcony, the softness of her skin and the slice of her tongue.

  You don't want to fucking get married. There is no goddamn way.

  A bitter scent lingered in the air. Maybe this was why Micah hadn't wanted to come along.

  "I'm not getting married."

  "Then no deal. Jacobson is giving me the same offer. It's the only way we're going to sell. I would rather go bankrupt and lose everything than to let someone who is not family have any part of Becks. I care about the family legacy continuing, and this is how it happens. If you want my company, you marry my daughter. It's as easy as that."

  My initial flash of fury morphed. It would be that easy, and she would be mine. I’d never wanted to be married, knowing what kind of trap marriage was. A kind of death sentence to your soul.

  But this way you can have her.

  I narrowed my eyes. "You have a deal."

  Becker flashed a grin at me. "Excellent. Why don't you come by the house tonight? We’ll have drinks and have this conversation with my daughter, civilized-like. Then you can get to know her better. See if a union suits."

  James Becker thought he was getting the better end of this deal. But I hadn't even known that she came with it. He had no idea what he had, and he was willing to give it all away.

  And I was just ruthless enough to take it.

  Chapter 5

  Gwen

  I’d stewed all day, and I still hadn't found a way to avoid a sale. Not to mention my father had been conveniently busy and couldn't find a time to meet with me. Despite things being strained between us, I could sometimes get him to listen.

  Well, I had a chance to make him listen tonight. Family night. Friday night tradition. I hoped that tonight, maybe I could get my point across. I had to try. I couldn't let him sell to Jacobson. Not Atticus Price either. If he'd just give me more time, I could find a way out of this.

  I used my key and stepped in. The aroma of baking hit my nostrils quickly. Had Clarissa actually cooked today? Ariella had been my parents' housekeeper and cook since I was little. She'd really been crushed when Mom died and had kept looking after Dad, me, and Morgan. She continued with Dad and Morgan when I left for school and stayed on when Clarissa married my father. But Fridays were her day off. Dad figured Clarissa could manage.

  The soft click of my shoes on the marble made me smile. As a kid, I used to put on Mom's heels and clomp all the way down the stairs just to hit the marble so I could make that click-clack sound that she always made when she was getting ready to go out with my father. The only thing that had really changed at my childhood home was some of the artwork. Most of the paintings Mom had used to decorate were still up, but Clarissa had replaced a few of them. There were more family photos with Clarissa in them these days, but there were still some with my mom as well.

  I’d never stopped to think about how that might affect Clarissa. She had to squeeze herself into a home that was already so established. But I knew Dad. He was never leaving this house. And in some ways, I was happy about that. After all, this was my home.

  It was one of the townhouses nestled in the Upper East Side, and it had been one of those idyllic childhoods.

  It was always bittersweet coming home. Memories of my mother were everywhere.

  Dad and Clarissa were married when Morgan was still in high school, so that had been my main concern. But she loved my sister. To be fair, everyone loved Morgan. But then again, Morgan was sweet and always had a smile for everyone, so she was easy to love.

  And then there was me. "I'm here. Anyone around?" I called out.

  "I’m in here," came a voice from the dining room.

  I followed the sound to where my stepmother set places for dinner.

  I did a brief count. "Is someone joining us?" I asked as I brought the utensils to help. Normally, Friday nights were drinks and appetizers, then we headed out to our own plans. After I set the table, I went over to the bar to make drinks.

  I would have a spritzer of some sort. Morgan would have something non-alcoholic, and my father would grill us about our lives. And honestly, you had better have something interesting to say about some new development you'd made, or there would be judgment.

  I could still remember when Mom was alive. I'd been so proud of myself one day, having just seen my grades on our school software platform. I'd gotten straight A's. Four A pluses, and one A in History. A ninety-eight. And when I’d proudly announced to my parents that I'd gotten straight A's, my father had insisted I recount my actual scores.

  There was no point in lying because he would see it eventually. And so, I sat there and told him about the four A pluses and one A. He asked me what my numerical score was, and I told him.

  My hands still got slick at the memory. He'd put his scotch down and glowered at me. "What happened to the two points?"

  That one question encapsulated our whole relationship. In a world where I was winning, I was also failing.

  He’d spent the rest of that evening lecturing me about how I had to work twice as hard to be seen as half as good. And a ninety-eight wouldn't cut it. I had cried, of course, which made it worse. And then he said no child of his was mediocre.

  Naturally, I had spent my whole life trying to prove him right. And now he was selling me off. I tried to shake it off and returned Clarissa's smile. Apparently, she'd been speaking and I had gotten lost in memories. "Yes, your father invited someone."

  "So, we are stuck for dinner then?"

  Her smile was soft and held the weight of understanding. "I know. Knowing you, you'll probably be going back to the office, eager to get out of here. Honestly, hon, you work too hard. You need to make room in your life for other things like you used to." I knew she cared. I did. But I really hated being told to get a life.

  "I hear you, and I appreciate it. I'm not sure how you stay married to him. And I mean that in the best possible way."

  The subject change was automatic and deliberate. She gave me an understanding nod, then squeezed my hand. I glanced at her tanned skin as she squeezed. Her ring blinked again in the light of the chandelier, and my gut twisted. Her ring. It was so similar to my mother's. And in so many ways, Clarissa was similar to her too. Just a less vibrant version.

  "Who's coming to dinner besides Morgan?"

  "You know your father. He didn't tell me anything except that I needed to prepare."

  Just as I finished helping Clarissa set the table my phone rang, and I excused myself to take it in the sunroom.

  “Hello, this is Gwen.”

  “Hi Gwen, it’s Dr. Hamann from Hearts and Hope.”

  “Oh, how are you? I saw the initial donation numbers from the benefit. They were good. We were up from the last two events by three percent.”

  “Yeah, about that. There’s been a development.”

  My stomach sank. It was bad enough that Becks could no longer put on the benefit. I couldn’t take it if the organization struggled as a result. “Oh no.”

  “No, no, it’s good. I mean you did it, so you would know. I just never imagined.”

  I frowned, confusion edging out concern for dominance. “Doctor Hamann, I’m sorry, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  There was a long pregnant pause. “What? Are you sure? We have a five million dollar donation made in your name.”

  My breath caught in my throat. For precious seconds no air made it in or out. “What? From who?”

  “It looks like the payment came from Pendragon Charities. They made it in your name. The funds cleared this morning. I thought you knew.”

  Fucking Atticus Price.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  The doctor laughed. “Honestly, neither do I. Except, thank you. A donation like this will allow us to continue the work we do for years. It’s a little overwhelming. But we’re grateful.”

  Fuck me. Why would he do that? Especially after I’d insulted him.

  Do you want him to take it back?

  No. Of course not. But hell, five million dollars? That was… That was mind blowing and reckless.

  “Well, I’m glad the money can do some good. I will find Mr. Price and thank him.”

  After I hung up with her, I stared at my phone. How the hell did one even go about finding a billionaire to say thank you for something like this? I didn’t ask for this, but like hell was I going to turn it down. Hearts and Hope could use it.

  A nearly hysterical laugh escaped my lips. Holy shit. Maybe I needed to insult billionaires more often. Maybe I could save my company that way.

  The doorbell rang, and Clarissa called out, "Gwen, darling, do you mind getting that?"

  "Sure." I stuffed a canapé into my mouth and started toward the door. I wished I had dressed better. Dad would likely have something to say about my outfit. I had gone to my apartment and changed into slim-fit, dark-washed jeans and a mustard-colored crop-top sweater, and had gone casual. I still had on perfume and earrings, because if I didn't, Dad would be on my back.

  How do you expect anyone to respect you if you don't respect yourself and dress accordingly?

  I rolled my eyes as I strode for the door. Our butler, Marcus, was also headed that way, and I gave him a shake of my head. "I got it."

  "Yes, miss." The short, pudgy man had been with my family long before Mom died. He looked exactly the same. Maybe his middle was getting just a little bit wider, but he was still ruddy-faced with a patch of wiry white hair on his head that was slightly unkempt. I jogged up the three steps to the vestibule and swung the door open, freezing stock-still when I saw who stood on the other side.