“So, what now? I’m banished to the backwoods of Kentucky?”
Cannon rises from the table and rinses his mug in the sink. “You’re laying low. If you want to call it banishment, that’s your choice. But after that stunt on Twitter yesterday morning, you unleashed another media cycle tearing into your character, and stock prices are taking a hit. We need to distance you from the companies if you’re going to keep acting like a spoiled little brat.”
And there we have it, the unvarnished truth from the mouth of Cannon Grove himself.
As much as it frustrates me to have my actions scrutinized so heavily and affect Creighton’s business, I know he’s right.
“How do you distance me?”
“You transfer all your interest in the companies to someone else. If you’re not a majority shareholder in so many of the businesses, then investors, after proper education, won’t be so concerned by your actions.”
Give up my interest in Karas Holdings? I remember the first time Creighton told me he was building the company, not only to secure his future, but to secure mine as well. He’d just taken a huge risk in the foreign currency market and made his first billion.
It wasn’t the money that hit me hardest, it was the feeling of solidarity. Creighton and me against the world, just like it was always Creighton and me against my aunt and uncle. Even though I have limited knowledge of all the details, I’ve been a part of almost every business venture he’s been involved in. When your brother is as busy and ambitious as mine, drawn in a hundred different directions at once, it’s one way to know you still occupy an important spot in his life.
The purchase of Homegrown Records for Holly was one of the first business deals he excluded me from, but obviously I held no resentment. I understood completely.
But to me, giving up my interest in those companies is equivalent to giving up that bond with my brother. I don’t want to do it.
I shake my head. “No. I’m not bowing out. I’ll be better. No more drunken ad posting or tweeting. I’m done.”
“Which is why you’re here, and you’ve got no Internet and no cell phone. I grabbed the case file on your counter, so maybe that’ll give you something else to do.”
“So this really is exile? You want me cut off from everything.” My words carry the weight of guilt I already feel. I’m twenty-six years old, and I’m still being treated like a child.
You did this to yourself, Greer. That inner voice is correct to a certain degree, but still . . . this is excessive.
“What about Banner? Can I at least talk to her?” I eye the old rotary telephone on the wall. It’s definitely an antique, but I can figure out how to use it.
Cannon follows my line of sight. “Phone has been shut off, and I’ve got a security guy coming in to babysit you while you’re here. It might be best for you and Banner to take a little break from wreaking havoc on the world for a week or so.”
“So I’ve been grounded. In Kentucky.”
His smile is slightly less smug than I expect. “Consider it an extension of your vacation in a new and exotic location.”
I open my mouth to deliver a witty and no doubt scathing retort, when a knock on the door interrupts us.
“And that’s your new security detail.”
“Why?”
Cannon heads to the door. “I have to get back to the city, so my availability for babysitting has come to an end.”
After unlocking the ancient-looking dead bolt, he pulls the door open to reveal a man who blocks most of the light coming in from outside.
I lean to the side to try to get a better look. What I see is a stocky guy around five foot eight who’s extending his hand to Cannon.
“Troy German reporting for duty, sir.”
It’s his choice of words and the emphasis on sir that give away his military roots. I’m sure of it. So sure I’d bet a nude photo for the press on it. Cringing as soon as the thought sweeps across my brain, I rise and head for the door to meet my new babysitter.
“Cannon Grove, and this is Greer Karas.”
“The subject. Understood.”
Awesome, I’m a subject now. Way to dehumanize the situation, Troy.
I give him a polite but forced nod and return to my Wonder Bread. As I crunch away, I listen halfheartedly as Cannon grills Troy again on things I’m certain he already has memorized. But knowing Cannon, if a single answer doesn’t check out, this guy is gone. Cannon might be a controlling ass, but he’s always looked out for me.
When he’s satisfied, he invites Troy inside, but Troy declines.
“No, sir. I’ll be stationed out front and periodically walking the perimeter to make sure the property is secure.”
I assume Cannon finds nothing wrong with that because he nods, and the former military man turns and steps off the porch.
“Well, that was interesting.”
Cannon shrugs. “He comes highly recommended, and I’m comfortable leaving him in charge of you. All joking aside, he’s not your babysitter. He’s here to protect you, discreetly.”
“Protect me from what?”
Cannon’s frown clues me in to the fact that I’m asking the wrong question. The correct question is protect me from whom.
“Cav,” I whisper. “He’s here to protect me from Cav.”
A nod is all the confirmation I need. “He’s here to make sure Mr. Casso doesn’t decide to do anything stupid.”
“His name is Westman.”
“Only when it became convenient for him.”