Chapter 60

Charles leans back in the seat of his car, silently stewing as his driver maneuvers around the streets to take him to the Hardy residence. He and Daisy are having dinner with Paul, Darlene, and Becki tonight, to discuss what the hell they're going to do next.

Brodie was smart to get out while he did, Charles thinks grumpily as he watches the city lights zip past out the window. Becki's twin brother left for a study abroad program in France at the beginning of the summer, and Charles wonders if he'll ever even return.

He'd be smart not to, Charles thinks. Get out of this mess and stay out. Nothing is going according to plan, not even this business about Becki befriending the new doctor. It hasn't gotten her anywhere close to the Alpha, and it's been over a week.

In fact, after a few lunches and shopping trips with the doctor – who Becki is supposed to be cozying up to in order to get closer to the Alpha family – all that seems to have happened is Becki's spending has tripled.

It was already outrageous enough, even after Charles revoked the unlimited card he'd given her and put a cap back on it. Now it seems to have gotten really out of control. Darlene says that Becki comes home with shopping bags from prestigious boutiques almost every day.

How much crap does one girl need? Charles grumbles to himself. He knows that society women spend money like it grows on trees, but Becki isn't a society woman. She wants to be one, he knows that, but you have to earn your spot there.

Charles earned his spot. He worked hard for it, goddamn it. He waited, and plotted, and planned, and worked. He found a backer to fund his ambitions. He ingratiated himself with Daisy, taking advantage of her vulnerability at just the right moment.

Daisy. His wife. God, she's a little fool, Charles thinks contemptuously, glancing sideways to where she's sitting in the car next to him, staring out the window and apparently lost in her own thoughts. The only daughter in a family that overly prizes its boys, smart as a whip but often unlistened to by her mother and father, to say nothing of her older brothers.

She was desperate for attention by the time he met her. He knew that; he'd been keeping an eye on her for quite a while, waiting and planning for the right moment to "bump into" her. Bribing himself into that party was his smartest move.

Daisy had been drunk, a little slurry, a little needy. It had been nothing to flatter her, pay attention to her all night, act solicitous and in awe of her beauty. Piece of cake, really, to draw all her focus onto himself.

And then he'd made sure she'd had just a little too much to drink, just enough so that her memory would be fuzzy. She'd gotten emotional, clingy, tearful. She'd poured out a lot of juicy family gossip, in fact.

By then, the party was in its end stages, with couples paired off all around the room and so many people having private conversations that they went unnoticed. Daisy whined and sniveled about her family, about how they didn't value her as much as her brothers.

And Charles had been there, soothing her, coaxing more information from her. Her brother Marcus would probably be named heir, but she stood a chance if she had a strong enough mate. But she'd need to be married by the end of next year to even have a shot.

And then he'd helped her to bed, stumbling and crying all the way. He'd laid down next to her, encircled her in his arms, murmured comforting words into her hair. She'd fallen asleep on him and stayed that way all night.

When she woke up the next morning, hungover and embarrassed, he'd still been there. Acting the perfect gentleman – no, of course he hadn't taken advantage, he'd never do such a thing. Reassuring her.

No, he didn't hate her or judge her. He only admired her, felt indignant on her behalf. Her family didn't know what they were missing in overlooking her. If she were his wife, he'd value her every day for the rest of their lives.

And then he'd asked her out on a date, and she'd glowingly accepted. The rest fell into place almost effortlessly.

He had to be careful, though. He still does. His wife may be a fool, but she's not stupid. She's become suspicious of him, he knows that. Suspicious of his motives, of his loyalty, of his love. He's tried to placate her, but it's so difficult when he doesn't respect her.

He thinks she knows he doesn't respect her. He needs to remember to tread carefully, or he's going to shoot himself in the foot before he gets her named Heir. He needs her to be named Heir. He'll have full reign, then.

Over the mansion, yes, and also over its bank accounts. Which he desperately needs access to, especially now that things are really heating up. Charles is going to end up dead at the bottom of a river if he can't figure something out soon.

He twitches involuntarily. This evening had better be productive, or he's truly in deep shit. So deep that he's not sure how else he could manage to dig himself out of it.

After dinner, which was a somewhat stilted affair full of forced casualness and cheer, the family all gather in the library again. This is their usual meeting place at the Hardy home, and they take their usual places accordingly: Darlene behind the desk, Becki draped over the settee, Paul hovering awkwardly by the unlit fireplace, and Charles pacing.

Daisy is the only one who deviates. Today, she's sitting primly in an armchair, watching Charles through narrowed eyes. Those narrow eyes worry him, he must admit. He knows she's becoming suspicious of him, and he knows that she's losing faith in his ability to salvage literally any of this.

She also doesn't know everything – she doesn't know about Nicole, for example. If she knew everything, she'd drop him in a heartbeat. It's not like she couldn't find someone else, even as heavily pregnant as she is. She's an objectively beautiful and powerful woman.

Charles twitches again. He can't lose the support of his wife, or he doesn't stand a chance. He gives her a weak smile, hoping to warm her up. She's been cool to him all evening, not speaking in the car, barely speaking to him at dinner, just watching him with those contemptuous eyes.

She doesn't smile back. She just narrows her eyes further. Goddamn it, Charles is really in the shit now. He needs to turn this around.

"So!" he barks a little too loudly; everyone jumps. "We need a new plan. Marcus needs to go. We need to discredit him somehow."

"We can't," Daisy says flatly. "My father is closer to Marcus than ever. And Marcus is going to ask that doctor to marry him. Once he does, it's all over for us. He will be named Heir, and we will be cut loose.

"I think he suspects us, as well," she continues. "We will be turned out of the mansion, mark my words. We'll be given a lump sum payment and told to get the hell out and stay out. Marcus will pay us off to avoid a scandal, but that's the best we can hope for."

Charles pales. He knows she's right.

"So, what do we do?" Darlene asks, her voice tight. Becki is examining her manicure, but clearly listening. Paul just hovers. God, Charles is sick of Paul, the weak little man. He forces his attention back to Daisy, though.

"We need to either kill Marcus or Evelyn," Daisy shrugs. "It's the only way."

"All right," Charles says. "Let's make a plan."