“They’re reworking their numbers to meet our new timelines,” I say, keeping my voice even.

He snorts. “What they’re doing is trying to make a rabbit appear out of a hat. I’ve seen this before, a hundred times. You’ll start to recognize it one day, don’t you worry.”

And there’s another condescending jab.

The urge to lean over and punch him is overwhelming. I grit my teeth into a smile. “By the way, how do you know this Hank Kavanaugh?”

“How do I know him?” Tripp shrugs. “I know him like I know all my contacts. Through years of carefully cultivating industry relationships.”

“A lot of golf, I’ll bet.”

“Yes, well . . .” He chuckles. “That’s how things have gotten done over the decades that your father and I have been at this.”

Well played, Tripp. Position yourself as equal to my father. Keep trying to make me look inexperienced and dumb. I’ll admit, I am inexperienced when you stack up résumés.

But I am not dumb.

“So that’s how you two met? Golfing?” I push.

His eyes narrow as he assesses me a few beats, as if searching for an answer. Why is she asking me this? What does she know? “We went to the same college. That was definitely a conversation starter for us.”

Actually, you two were roommates. Something I can’t blurt out without letting on that I’ve been digging into Tripp’s past. But that he didn’t mention it now . . . He’s hiding a potential conflict of interest. That’s another red flag.

Tripp waits another few beats and, when I don’t respond, turns back to my father. “Kieran, Hank is ready to commit today. You know where my head’s at on this and I’ve been around the block a few times.”

My dad regards him with his naturally steely eyes. “So have I.”

Tripp holds his hands up in surrender. “All I’m saying is, I’m telling you, KDZ is the right move for the Marquee project.”

Dad’s lips twist in thought. I know that look. It’s the one he gets when he’s about to make a decision.

“I disagree,” I blurt out.

Tripp’s sigh is poorly concealed.

“Why?” my father asks evenly.

I don’t have much choice anymore. Still, I choose my words carefully, keeping my gaze on my father. “Because there is a rumor that KDZ has been known to offer kickbacks to secure contracts.”

“That’s bullshit!” Tripp bursts. “Where did you hear something like that?”

“A reliable source.”

“Who?” he demands to know.

I remain calm. “No one I am going to name at this time.”

“And so what are you implying, Piper? What, that I’m taking a kickback?” Tripp adjusts his position in his seat, the casual slouch replaced with stiff indignation. “After giving almost thirty goddamn years to your family’s company, you’re accusing me of that? Kieran?” He looks with bewilderment at my father.

“I’m sure that’s not what Piper is implying.” My father’s cold blue gaze lands on me and there is a distinct warning in there.

Meanwhile, Tripp’s face is flushed red with anger. It’s so convincing that my stomach sinks with dread. Is Kyle wrong about what he overheard?

What if I just made a horrible mistake?

I clear my throat, mainly to steady my voice. The worst thing I can do right now is come off sounding hesitant. “I have someone looking into the claim right now. If it turns up false, then I’m fine with considering KDZ’s proposal.”

Tripp sighs heavily, and gathers some level of composure. “Kieran, blowing up a solid contract because your daughter heard a rumor is a terrible business move.”

My dad’s eyes shift back and forth between us. “I agree.”

My mouth drops open. Did he just side with Tripp, again?

Rage and shock bubble inside me.

“But,” my father continues, staying my sharp tongue from letting loose something that I’ll no doubt regret—like, that I quit—“I don’t believe Piper would come forward with an accusation this serious if she didn’t have solid intel.”

I breathe the softest sigh of relief. And again, that twinge of dread surfaces. Is what Kyle overheard really “solid intel”?

Dad shuffles a stack of paperwork—he still refuses to review presentations digitally. “We need to see Jameson’s revised proposal and have the team weigh in before we make any decisions. Hank can talk to me if he has an issue with this. Piper, a word, alone.”

Tripp heaves his lumpy body out of his chair and storms off, leaving the door wide open.

“Greta! Door,” my dad barks. Moments later, Greta pokes her head in to quickly close it.

“What the hell was that!” Dad explodes in a rare burst. “When did you hear about this supposed kickback?”

My heart begins to race in my chest. “About a week ago.”

“A week!” His eyebrows crawl halfway up his head. “Who told you?”

“That’s not important—”

“The hell it’s not!” He picks up a pen, only to throw it across his desk. “Who is your source?”

“Did you know that Hank Kavanaugh and Tripp were roommates at Minden College? And they also played on a men’s soccer team, together,” I say instead. “That’s more than just a conversation starter.”

Dad stalls on whatever he was going to say. “So you are accusing Tripp of accepting a kickback. That’s why you think he’s gunning for this contract.”

“Not officially.” There’s no point denying it anymore. “But yes, I believe he has made a deal with Kavanaugh for a five-hundred-thousand-dollar payout.”

Dad’s angular jaw tightens. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“Would you have believed me?”

“No. I still don’t.”

“Exactly. Which is why I’m doing more digging. I have them pulling Tripp’s phone records for all deleted text messages in case there’s something there.” That required a tense half-hour conversation with the VP of our phone company, who was more than reluctant, citing a need to speak to his legal counsel first, until I asked him to verify for me how much our corporate bill was last year and when CG’s contract with them is up.

“He wouldn’t be that foolish.”

“He was foolish enough to have an open conversation on his phone about it.” Arrogance and bitterness make people do stupid things.

“Who overheard him?” he pushes. “Jill? Mark? I know it wasn’t David. He would have told me.”

I fold my arms over my chest and press my lips together tightly.

He sinks into his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I do not like being blindsided, Piper.”

“I’m sorry. I was afraid you were about to make a huge mistake by agreeing to this.”

He spins in his chair, turning his back to me as he gazes out over the city again. “Let me know what you find. And don’t ever say I didn’t back you.”

I take this as my dismissal, and leave my seat to head for the door.

“Did David tell you about dinner tonight?” He spins back around, and suddenly he looks ten years older than he did when I walked in here.