Ruthless Knight: Chapter 7

That famous quote plays through my mind like a glorious song as I walk up the wide stone steps leading to the doors of Wright’s Investments.

By the time I was sixteen, I’d read every philosophy book worth reading and memorized every page of The Art of War.

I took a liking to that book in particular. Maybe it’s because of that primal competitive streak inside me that continuously fuels my thirst to win. Or it could have been my desire for revenge. By sixteen, I was well versed in my father’s treachery, and I despised everything about him. I’d made it my life’s mission to simply be better than him and Bastian. Better than both of them at everything.

As such, I’ve prided myself on being the guy who always gets what he wants.

Thanks to Jericho’s expertise, last night was the prime illustration of that truth.

Within the hour of the FBI raid, the story hit the national news that Conrad Gilmar had been arrested for securities fraud and embezzling eighty million from his clients.

It’s barely mid-day, but the press is running wild, spreading the story through every household in New York faster than an Australian bushfire. It’s on every news channel and in every paper with the headline:

Nathan is still in custody. Although Jericho didn’t find too much on him, there was enough to link him as a possible accomplice to his father’s dirty dealings.

If he’s lucky to be released, I suspect he’ll be under investigation for quite some time.

Just enough time to get him out of my way, but more importantly, take him out of the game.

Anyone would think those two had crossed me, but no. Until last night, although I’d heard of the Gilmars, I’d never met them in my life.

By being best pals with William, Aurora’s father, poor Nathan and Conrad simply had the misfortune of being obstacles in my way.

Now that the path has been cleared, I’m free to carry out the rest of the plan.

Which is why I’m here. And the large envelope in my hands is not that different from a doomsday device.

I walk through the doors and proceed toward the elevator bank.

The interior of the building is as grand as the outside with glass-paneled walls and marble floors. Minus the scent of indulgence and greed, the place reminds me of the Grayson building. There’s a homey feeling here that’s almost welcoming. As it’s Sunday and there’s hardly anyone around, things might be different during the busier times of the week.

The guard at the concierge’s desk acknowledges me with a clipped nod.

No words are spoken between us. A sign William must have briefed him about my visit.

Good. Nobody likes problems, especially with me.

However, I do wonder if William will fight, even though he’s backed into one of the darkest corners in Hell.

I called him last night after the news hit and requested we meet today.

He was quick to accept the meeting when I gave him a summary of the incriminating intel I have on him.

The man is no fool. He would have known what Conrad was up to.

He would have also been aware that only someone with high-tech skills could have figured out what was going on, and said person could have been the only one to rat Conrad and Nathan out.

Last night, I’m sure William thought the Feds were there for him too. I saw it in his face as they marched in. The truth is they should have been. His crimes were substantially worse than Conrad’s.

The only reason he’s not behind bars is because I chose it.

I need William Wright on the outside as much as I need his beautiful, fiery daughter, who is stuck in my head, haunting me as badly as the ghost from my past.

Aurora figured me out. She knows last night was my doing.

I wanted her to.

From where I stood on that balcony, I could see the realization forming in those bright blue eyes as she stared back at me trying to work out why I was there.

I knew the moment she put two and two together and came up with the answer.

Seeing her again like that fit right into the gray area of my life where things are neither good nor bad. Certainly, seeing her there with her almost-fiancé wasn’t good.

That shit had to be arranged. I didn’t peg her as the type of woman to hook up with a stranger when she has a serious boyfriend.

What do I know, though?

Maybe I’m just being a possessive fucker because the taste of her still lingers in my mouth, and for those few moments that I had her, she was all mine.

Feeling her lush body pressing into me as I pleasured her and having her come on my hands is still riding my mind like the devil.

After crashing her engagement party with the Feds and sending her almost-fiancé and his father off to jail, I’m sure our next meeting will be full of fireworks.

I take the elevator up to the fifteenth floor and make my way to William’s

office. It’s the large one at the end with the open door.

I walk right up to the door and find him inside. He’s sitting behind an elaborate mahogany desk that looks like it belongs in the president’s office. Scattered across the surface are stacks of papers and file folders.

I look William over, sizing him up. The only thing about him that resembles Aurora is his eyes. Other than that, I wouldn’t even know they were related. Aurora’s white hair gives her a Scandinavian look, while William looks like the standard all-American guy.

Seconds pass of me just standing there watching him, but William doesn’t see me.

He’s too busy shuffling through the papers, searching in an almost frantic manner. His face is a portrait of creases and wrinkles from the worry.

His mouth is wide open like he wants to shout with distress, but there is no sound.

Everything in the room looks as out of cadence as him. From the stack of books on the far side of the room that looks like the leaning tower at Pisa to the scatter of papers on the floor by the chaotic bookshelf.

Finally, he looks up and notices me. In that moment, his face turns a sickly shade of white. Corpse white.

He straightens and tries to look unfazed by my presence, but the sight of his Adam’s apple bobbling as he swallows is a tell he’s shitting himself.

“Knight Grayson.” Another hard swallow, then a sheen of sweat emerges on the side of his face.

I return his greeting with a humorless smile. “William Wright.” I walk into the office but stop when I’m a few paces in and point back at the door. “Open or closed?”

“Closed.” He sets his shoulders back and keeps his gaze pinned to me, analyzing my actions.

I close the door and make my way to the chair before him. There I plant myself, cross my right leg over my left, and place the envelope on my lap. Once I’ve settled, I already look like I’ve stolen his power.

“So, we finally meet.”

“Finally.” He presses his lips together briefly, then pulls in a breath as his eyes drift toward the envelope. “Is it all true? I mean, what you know about me?”

“Yes.”

Our conversation last night was brief and straight to the point. All I really had to say to make this meeting happen was one name—Falcone.

Giovanni Falcone is an Italian mafia boss a respectable man like William Wright shouldn’t know. Yet he does.

“It’s all here.” I hand him the envelope, and he takes it as eagerly as a vulture tearing the bones off a carcass.

He pulls out all the documents, and as he starts flicking through the evidence, his face falls further, becoming paler if possible.

I have pictures—a lot of them. I also have whole email conversations, offshore bank transactions, and transcripts of phone conversations.

William might not have had anything to do with Conrad’s setup, but he had his own thing going on to steal from his clients when he gambled away all his money.

To me, it looked like he started gambling in high-stakes poker games and started drinking. There are also records of him going into rehab months after his wife’s death. Things got worse financially for his business, and he was never able to recoup his losses.

That was when he turned to Falcone, who is notorious for buying and selling on the black market. It’s so much easier for men like him to have his very own investment banker at his fingertips—aka, William. A man who can manipulate stocks and shares and anything he wants. Which is exactly what he did.

But what Falcone doesn’t know is that William was also stealing from him.

The reason behind the plan of Aurora marrying Nathan was to replace that money, along with client investments William lost. Nathan’s family would get shares in Wright’s Investments, and William was going to get an investment handout. Except he didn’t tell his friend the whole truth about what the money was for. He left out the part about Falcone.

The whole thing is like a Mexican standoff where everyone has a gun pointed at them, and nobody knows who will pull the trigger first.

When William finishes looking through the documents, he brings a trembling hand to his forehead.

It’s a full minute before he’s able to look me in the eye.

He knows what I have there is enough to put him away for a good twenty years. That’s if I play nice and keep my silence to Falcone. If he discovers what William has done, he’ll kill him and do whatever he sees fit to recoup his losses, including taking his daughter.

“What do you want?” William speaks in a rusty voice, sounding like he hasn’t said a word in centuries. “You obviously want something, or I’d be in prison or six feet under.”

That ruthless smile returns to my face, and I sit forward, keeping my gaze trained on him.

“I want Sunset Cove.”

His brows knit, falling so deep they almost touch. “Sunset Cove isn’t mine to give.”

“Oh, but it is. You are the executor of your daughter’s estate until she turns twenty-five.”

“That is her gift from her mother,” he argues. “It’s the only valuable thing her mother had in this world to give her.”

From the meaningfulness in his tone, I sense that this mess he’s in isn’t the real him. He sounds the way a father should. One who cares but ended up screwing himself over with one bad mistake.

But this is business. He did what he had to do. I’m doing the same.

“I believe your wife left a separate provision that allowed you to act on Aurora’s behalf in exceptional circumstances.”

His jaw drops because I’m not supposed to know that.

The intel was literally in a separate proviso Aurora’s mother only shared with William. Susana Wright was a wise woman who tried to foresee and make provisions for all eventualities. That letter was one of them.

“How the hell did you find out about that? I haven’t even shared that information with Aurora.” He shakes his head in utter disbelief, and I smile wider.

“I know everything I need to know, and I believe this is an exceptional circumstance given that you just lost your only ticket to fixing your dire financial situation.”

William stares back at me, unblinking beneath his craggy brows, alarm spreading across his face as the seconds tick by.

He knows I’m right. Nathan and Conrad are completely out of the picture.

When the Feds finish taking everything from them, they won’t even be able to rub two beans together, so William has no one. At least not anyone who is willing to give him the amount of money he needs, which is several million.

“What are you offering me?” he asks.

There. I’ve cracked him.

“I think the better way to phrase that question is, will you give me what I want in return for my silence and my help?” I intensify my stare, so he knows not to fuck with me.

“Your silence and your help? And what does your help include?” His bottom lip trembles with worry and rage.

“My help includes paying off Falcone. Along with providing all the money you need to stop Wright’s Investments from going into liquidation, and yourself in subsequent bankruptcy.”

William bites down hard on his back teeth and clenches his jaw so tight it looks like it might snap.

“You do know that Sunset Cove can only be yours through marriage, right? There are also a number of other terms that need to be adhered to. Those parts were specifically set out in an irrevocable living trust. I can’t just make my daughter give it to you, even if I am the executor.”

“I know.” I knew that little detail all along. Getting married is something I never wanted, but the ends will justify the means.

William’s hawk eyes narrow, assessing me once more. “I’ll have to speak to her.”

“By ten tomorrow morning,” I cut in before he can continue. My tone is sharp and succinct enough to make him know there is no room for negotiation.

He thinks for a moment, then nods. “Please don’t tell her what I did. Don’t tell her about my rehab stay, and don’t tell her about her mother’s letter. Please.” His eyes continue pleading with me moments after he’s spoken. “I’m already breaking my wife’s heart by entertaining this offer. This is not an exceptional circumstance. This is you blackmailing me, Knight Grayson. And it’s all my fault.”

“Call it whatever you want.”

“Just, please, don’t tell Aurora. That is all I’m asking for.”

I owe him nothing, but I won’t make the situation harder than it already is. “Okay, but she’ll know what she needs to know in order to comply. Understand?”

His frown deepens. “I understand.”

“Perfect. Well, it looks like I just became your future son-in-law.”