Relay by Layla Reyne

Author:Layla Reyne [Reyne, Layla]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Riptide Publishing
Published: 2018-01-07T18:30:00+00:00

Dane sat across from his father in the limo, tight-lipped and arms crossed, keeping up a defensive front as much as holding his insides together. Retribution for the press conference was long overdue. Closed practice and his phone’s Ignore button had allowed Dane to put it off a few days, but that reprieve was over. Judging by his father’s stern expression and the heavy silence during the car ride, he was in for more than the usual scolding. If his mother and Roger were here, as his father had claimed, she’d have filled the car with idle surface chatter until she could rip him in private. She was a master at filling dead air. His father, however, was a master of creating the void. Whether it was a preacher thing, or an asshole thing, Dane couldn’t say.

Roger wasn’t at the house either, once they reached it. Walking into what had to be the most expensive rental in San Antonio, Dane peered through the gleaming foyer to the family-of-twenty dining room with its massive oak table and crystal chandelier. Only his mother was standing there, on the other side of the table, in front of a wall of windows overlooking a lush, green golf course. Dressed all in black, hair teased out to there, she looked like a harbinger of the devil.

Get on with it, Mo’s voice coached in Dane’s head. He’d made a stand once today already, and while scary, it had felt good. Right. Alex and his team had had his back. Now he had to go it alone, make a stand for himself and them.

Not waiting for his father, Dane marched across the marble foyer and into the dining room. “What’s going on?”

“Sit down, dear.” His mother gestured at the end of the table closest to her, set for three. “Shannon has brunch ready for us.”

“Shannon?”

“The private chef we hired.” She said it like it was a matter of course. Then again, why would she do any differently here than at home, where they also had a personal chef? Dane had only learned to cook for himself in college, at Mo’s insistence. He’d kept up the practice by giving their home cook the night off whenever his parents were out of town, but she still made sure the fridge was stocked for his particular diet. This Shannon person . . . “I can’t just eat anything. I’m in training mode. My diet’s regulated.”

His mother rattled off the list, and Shannon appeared on cue, setting out plates with his usual midmorning fruit and protein blast.

“Sit, darling,” his mother said again.

He took the seat closest to the foyer, closest to the exit. “Where’s Roger?”

His father held out the chair across from him for his mother, pushed it under as she sat, then claimed the seat at the head of the table, his briefcase on the floor next to the chair. “We thought it best to discuss this amongst ourselves first.”

Dane fidgeted against the uncomfortable, ornately carved chair back. “Discuss what?”

His mother held up a hand, gesturing silence, as Shannon entered with the coffee tray.

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