Main Bonus #56: Guys Lunch at Cobalt Inc. (Thatcher) (Patreon)

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I’M BEHIND THE WHEEL of my baby blue Land Rover, and Farrow is in the passenger seat. Lately, we keep finding ourselves together. Same place, same time. I doubt it’d surprise him anymore than it does me these days. It’d be a fucking understatement to say we’re just co-workers, both working in security.

I’m on the road to marrying Jane Cobalt—the best friend of his husband.

Being in the same sphere as Farrow was inevitable as all hell.

With each glance I cast at him in the car, his expression hasn’t changed: brows knitted, face set in a more serious way that’s usually reserved for people like me.

Not people like him.

I take a right. Should I point it out?

Fuck it.

“You’re quiet,” I tell him.

He barely eyes me. “You’re wearing a suit and tie,” he says matter-of-factly and unwraps a piece of gum while watching a paparazzi sedan speed up beside us.

“We’re going to Cobalt Inc.”

“For lunch. Not a formal event.” When the sedan loses ground and falls back, Farrow turns his attention off the road and slowly onto me. “Am I shocked that you’d dress up to impress your future father-in-law? No.”

Farrow is wearing a simple black V-neck tucked into black slacks. I’m in one of my best suits. And I’m not feeling out of place yet.

“Jane said the navy looked sharp,” I mention.

He makes a sound that verges on a laugh. “She’s about to be your wife. I’d hope she’d compliment the fuck out of you, Moretti.”

“Like your husband compliments you,” I quip since Maximoff flirts with insults.

Farrow does a double-take. He’s surprised I’d rib him. “Wow.” His lip quirks. “Did not know you had that in you.”

“It’s in there.”

“Buried?”

“Deep,” I confirm.

He whistles. “The depths of Thatcher Moretti—not a place I thought I’d be going.” Farrow cringes at his own words. “I hope I never say that shit again.”

I laugh.

His smile teeters in and out.

He’s not entirely himself, and it is fucking strange to know Farrow that well. To understand when he’s off.

I wonder if it’s about the temps.

Comms hum in my ear, but no one is on the line. Farrow has his radio on, too. With temps watching Jane and Maximoff while we’re off-duty, we’re both tuning into the same frequency in case of an emergency—like the time we were out house hunting together. Temps lost Jane and Maximoff in the mall.

Hell, that wasn’t even that long ago. Back in May, and now it’s August.

I idle at a red light in Center City. “You’re not worried about impressing them?”

“I don’t need to impress anyone.” Farrow sticks the gum in his mouth. “I’ve already married into the family, for one. For another, Lo probably wouldn’t give a flying shit if I wore a suit or not.” He tries to lean back in the seat, but his brows are still knotted. Even when he blows a bubblegum bubble, it’s with noticeable aggravation.

Is it me?

I can’t tell if I’m irritating Farrow right now. Just existing as his authority has grated on him before like I blocked his sunlight and shit on his Eggos.

“I’m pissing you off,” I assume.

He gives me a hard look. Like that’s not close to where him and I are. “No.” Chewing his gum slowly, he finally says, “I don’t understand why they wouldn’t invite Maximoff.” His voice drops to a rougher whisper. “It’s been bothering me.”

Lunches with Connor, Ryke, and Lo during the weekday almost always involve Maximoff, and they made a point to exclude him this time.

“I didn’t ask them,” I say. “Did you?”

“Yeah. And they were vague as fuck.”

My fingers tense around the steering wheel. “It’s probably about security.”

“See, that’s what I’m hoping this isn’t about. Because if they bring up the same shit you keep hounding me with—”

“Ripley needs—”

“Me,” Farrow finishes, “and I’m telling you now, Thatcher, I’m not having this conversation with Lo, Ryke, and Connor. It’s bad enough I have you and Akara constantly riding me about a decision Maximoff and I have already made together.”

“Fine.”

His brows jump. “Fine?”

“I won’t bring it up anymore.”

Farrow seems skeptical.

I send him a harsher look. “You don’t think I will?”

“I think you can’t help yourself. These safety lectures are engrained in your DNA like you’re Smokey the Bear reminding everyone to put out fires.”

I almost smile at that.

And he’s not wrong. There might be a time where I do mention it again, but I’m not planning on it anytime soon. It’s only biting at him, and I like where Farrow and I stand right now too much to shake the ground beneath our feet.

The light turns green, and I drive straight. “It could be about the next big security event.”

“The Charity Golf Tournament?” Farrow is frowning. “Man, it can’t be that.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s nothing new. It’s basically an annual event that they’ve attended before. Nothing about that is different. Which is why I doubt this has anything to do with security. It’s family shit.”

It hits me.

I’m family now.

It’ll be official in November when I marry Jane, but I feel embedded within the Cobalt Empire. I’m already in group chats with Jane’s siblings. Already invited to Wednesday Night Dinners. Already attending emergency Cobalt meetings. Like a couple days ago after the Fun Run—one was called by Audrey to discuss Charlie running into poison ivy.

I consider what Farrow said while I pull up towards a private parking deck. I roll down the window, use a keycard, and enter.

Paparazzi behind me are stuck behind the barrier, and they reverse their car and leave.

I drive up another level. “They would’ve talked to us yesterday at Lily’s birthday party if it was just about family. This is about security.”

He pops a bubble. “Not if it was something tender-aged ears shouldn’t hear.”

Connor’s limo.

It blinks in my vision.

Sex.

Jane.

Me.

“Mannaggia,” I curse and smear a hand over my mouth. “You don’t think…” I trail off, horrified at the fucking idea of Connor bringing me into an office lunch to talk about me having sex with his daughter in his limo.

“Finish that thought,” Farrow says causally. “I can’t read your mind, Moretti.”

I park in an empty space on P3. Staring straight ahead, unblinking, I just say it, “He knows I had sex with Jane in his limo.”

Farrow unbuckles. “Okay, but does he actually know or are you just paranoid like Jane?”

Heat has already built in my chest. “This would be something he wouldn’t risk talking about at a birthday party.” I grind my teeth, upset at myself for letting this reach here. The point where her father might lecture me to hell and back again.

And I can’t even blame Connor. It was disrespectful, but it’s not even the strangest place I’ve fucked a woman.

Farrow and I stay in the car for another minute.

He mulls this over. “They wouldn’t invite Maximoff—”

“Because he’d tell Jane, and maybe Connor doesn’t want to embarrass his daughter.”

Farrow nods. “Yeah, you’re fucked.” He opens the door with nonchalance.

I glare and step out of the car too. “That’s it? No advice on how to unfuck this?”

“Advice?”

“You’ve been in the family for longer.”

His brows rise again. “I’m not the guinea pig in this situation. I’ve never been caught fucking Maximoff in the backseat of Lo’s car and had to dig myself out of that shit.”

My glare is tensing my entire face. I’m not really glaring at Farrow. I’m still more pissed at myself—for not avoiding a fucking avoidable situation.

And I wish Banks were here. He’d have some advice to offer. I probably shouldn’t have gone searching for that in Farrow.

When we enter the elevator, the doors slip shut. Farrow presses the button to the floor of Connor’s office. I try to snap to and get my head on right.

Farrow keeps glancing over at me, and finally, he says, “I’ll tell you what I’d tell my husband. Don’t overthink it.”

“Connor wouldn’t appreciate a thoughtless response.”

“Connor should appreciate you being his daughter’s fiancé.”

“The fiancé that fucked his daughter in his limo.” I fix the comms cord around my ear. “I’d understand why Connor wouldn’t appreciate me.”

I could’ve shattered his respect and his view of me, which I’d done a decent job rehabilitating like an injured kitten.

Farrow tosses his head from side-to-side, thinking. He takes a longer minute to find a response as we ascend to Connor’s office. “Whatever happens, I’ll back you. How about that?”

It surprises me.

And it shouldn’t by now.

I swing my head in his direction. “You should choose their side. It’s better if you protect your relationship with them.”

Farrow cracks a dying smile. “No.”

I frown. “You’re ready to go back to Lo’s shit list?”

“I’m one-hundred percent certain that I’ll test Lo’s patience, nerve, whatever-the-fuck, at some point, and I’m not going to care because I’ll likely be doing it for a friend.” He says it simply, and when the elevator dings and opens to a floor of cubicles and glass-walled offices, he’s the first off with ease.

I’m stuck behind for a half-second. He’s willing to protect me because we’re friends.

Farrow waits and turns his head back. He tries to read my expression that hasn’t moved like my feet haven’t.

Words. For someone like me who says little, it’s ironic that words have always mattered more to me than to Farrow.

Words are spoken promises. Words are assurances and confirmations. Words can be weapons of love or destruction.

Words are heavy.

And I’m a masochist who loves carrying heavy fucking things.

Farrow is weightless.

“It’s better for you if you leave me on an island,” I tell him, though it’s not really what I want him to do.

He tilts his head. “The fact that you’d be understanding if I did that to you is a little fucked up.”

This slams against me. Harder than he knows. I say nothing as I realize I’m willing to accept the dogshit end of a hell as long as others can crawl out of the hole and see the light.

I don’t know if this’ll ever change about me.

Farrow sighs, looks to his left where a woman watches us from behind her cubicle. When she’s caught staring, her eyes widen behind chunky black glasses, and she dips back to her keyboard and computer.

I step out of the elevator before it can let out a high-pitched beep from the doors staying ajar. It shuts behind me as I go to Farrow’s side.

More quietly, he tells me, “This isn’t going to be a You vs. Us situation. I won’t join a pile-on. I won’t throw you under. I protect my friends.” He takes a beat. “I try to, at least.”

It untenses my strict stance. “I appreciate it.” I nod to him. “I’ll always have your six.”

“I know,” Farrow tries to smile. It vanishes fast. “Shit, I’m not looking forward to this.” He might still think there’s a chance it’s not about Jane and me.

“I feel about the same.” We continue to draw gazes from across the office floor. Cobalt Inc. employees don’t always have a front row seat to spotting the two bodyguards who burned the code of ethics and dated their clients.

Workweek lunches aren’t always in the Cobalt Inc. high-rise either. Usually they’re at restaurants around Center City, but we’ve been called here today. And there’s no turning back.

We head to Connor’s office, but we’re not even inside when an annoyance rears his head. It takes an unholy amount of energy to wipe away my scowl.

Tony Ramella is here.

My stepmom’s little brother. He’s also Connor’s 24/7 bodyguard.

And he’s grinning like he shit a gold brick this morning. “Welcome to Cobalt Inc.”

“We’ve been here before,” Farrow says, unamused and about to bypass Tony, but Tony sidesteps and physically blocks the door. The glass walls are frosted and shuttered, so we can’t see inside Connor’s office.

Farrow glowers. “You don’t want to do this with me today.”

Tony stares right at him. “Is that sexual? Because you know I’m not gay.”

Jesus Christ.

Farrow’s jaw muscle twitches, and ever so slowly, he turns his head to me. The fury in his eyes says, I’m going to deck your twenty-nine-year-old uncle if you don’t intervene right now.

“Knock it off,” I snap at Tony.

“What?” His face screws up like he’s innocent in everything he spews. “It was an honest question.”

“Just move,” Farrow says pointedly.

I stand beside Farrow, facing this shitbag head-on, and while I’m towering over Tony, he acts like he’s a hundred feet tall. I add, “Connor is expecting us. We’re having lunch in his office.”

“I know. I also know that Connor is taking a business call with Abbey Games this morning—you’ll have to wait. It might be a few minutes. Coffee is in the breakroom for guests.”

“Connor told you that?” I question.

“He did,” Tony says with the spread of his hands. “He’s a busy guy.”

Farrow rolls his eyes and then looks to me. “What do you want to do? Because I know what I’d do.”

I want in that office.

Tony must see that Farrow is also seconds from just barreling through because Tony outstretches an arm. “Seriously, you both have to wait. I’m not fucking around here.”

I glare. “When you say Connor doesn’t want us in there—I don’t believe you.”

“Why?” Tony looks half-hurt, half-aggravated. “I’m his bodyguard. He keeps me informed on his day-to-day.”

Because I’ve been there when Connor told you to “stop talking” when you’ve run your mouth before.

Because I’ve heard you’ve been on thin ice ever since you stared at his assistant’s ass.

None of this leaves my mouth in enough time.

Tony touches his chest. “Don’t be mad at me that your future father-in-law is telling me more than he’s telling you.That’s up to him, man.”

Connor doesn’t even like you. It’s a low blow, one that Tony might deserve, but it feels fucking juvenile and I honestly don’t have the energy to list the evidence—not when I know Tony will just laugh at it like it’s a fairytale that I wrote myself.

“Okay, Connor Cobalt’s BFF, move the fuck away,” Farrow curses, “or I’ll move you myself.”

Tony glares at him, then me. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He shifts to the side, letting us through. “Go interrupt the King. See where that gets you both.”

He’s making me rethink our next move.

He’s making me wonder if he’s not full of horseshit. Is Connor really in a business meeting? Should I call him first and find out?

Farrow puts his hand on the knob, but he waits for me to give him the okay. Not because I’m his lead in the security team—but because that’s my future father-in-law. Not his.

I nod to him. “We’re good to go.”

Quietly, Farrow opens the door, and we both slip silently inside and shut the door behind us. Connor Cobalt’s office has one of the best city views of Philly, and the tint of the expansive windows blocks the bright afternoon sun.

But it’s clear in an instant that he’s preoccupied.

“It’s a nothing burger, right?” Garrison Abbey questions. He’s not in the room. But I’ve heard his voice enough to know it’s him.

Connor is on speakerphone, his phone in his hand while he stands deeper in his office. His back is to us while he faces a framed National Geographic magazine of Ryke Meadows climbing.

He doesn’t see us yet.

I stand stricter. Uneasy.

Farrow takes a quick glance over his shoulder, back at the door. He glances to me—maybe seeing what I want to do.

We shouldn’t be here.

Not while he’s taking a private call. But it’s with family. Willow Abbey is Ryke and Lo’s sister, and so the Abbeys are blood relatives to the Meadows and the Hales. But the Cobalts grew up with them, too, so even Jane calls Willow her aunt and Garrison her uncle.

I don’t want to be on the other side of the door with Tony. Yeah, he’s my family, but he’s here as a bodyguard, and I’m not.

I’m supposed to be something more to Connor.

And I don’t want to be relegated to the breakroom with strangers.

So I don’t move.

“If you’re asking if there are facts,” Connor says to Garrison, “we both know it’s baseless and not worth concern.”

“Please, God—”

“It’d do more for you if you begged me.”

“Please, Connor, you better be right.” Garrison lets out a heavy sigh. “Just try not to bring up your son and my daughter in a sentence again—it surfaces waking nightmares.”

“I’m not worried,” Connor mentions.

“Because there are zero facts.”

“Because if any of my sons would’ve had feelings for Vada, it would’ve been Eliot, and to put it in terms you’ll understand, that ship has figuratively sunk a while ago.”

“So Ben is—?”

“More interested in hockey.”

Garrison exhales in relief. “Awesome.”

I’m deathly still, unblinking.

We shouldn’t have heard any of that, and Farrow’s eyes widen on me like, we’re both fucked. His jaw tics, not loving this outcome, and I wait another second to alert Connor that we’re here. It’s in our nature to be flies on the wall, but this isn’t normal gossip.

Even though Vada Abbey isn’t related to the Cobalts by blood, I’ve never heard anyone talk about the possibility of Vada and a Cobalt boy getting together. Obviously, it’s crossed Connor and Garrison’s minds before, and we shouldn’t fucking know that.

Farrow careens his head back in frustration like he wishes he could physically pry the information from his head and burn it.

Before we find ourselves in worse territory, I need to pull us out of this.

I clear my throat, the noise deep but audible.

Connor swerves and sees us. He noticeably tenses. “Garrison, I’ll call you back.”

“Whatever. I’ve got to look over this code anyway.” He hangs up.

Connor studies our rigid postures. “What you heard…” He pockets his phone. “Don’t repeat to anyone.”

“I won’t, sir,” I promise.

“Forgotten,” Farrow says easily, but he has a photographic memory and there’s no path where he’s forgetting this.

Connor runs a finger over his lips, thinking. “It’s not a concern to anyone, including Jane and Maximoff. You won’t make it one?”

Farrow shakes his head a few times. “Not unless Maximoff asks about Vada and…Ben?” His brows crinkle like that came out of left field.

It does feel like being pelted in the back with a fucking football.

“And I highly doubt he will,” Farrow continues. “Let’s put it that way.”

Connor looks to me. It feels like I’m just a bodyguard right now, being asked to shelter information.

“I’ll do the same,” I nod. “I won’t tell Jane unless she brings it up first.”

Connor seems appreciative, until he eyes the shut door. “Did Tony tell you to wait?”

Farrow and I exchange another hard look, and I realize how badly I nuked it. To Connor, I say, “He did, but we both thought he was lying to make it seem like you and him have a…”

“Friendship,” Farrow finishes for me. “A deep, annoying friendship.”

I give Farrow a reprimanding look.

He rolls his eyes and takes a seat on the couch. “Honestly, this is between you two. I barely have a working relationship with that fucker—no offence to your uncle.” He looks to me. “Your bodyguard.” He looks to Connor.

“None taken,” Connor says calmly, remaining standing like I am. He faces me, and I shouldn’t feel hot beneath the suit I’m wearing—but a vexed inferno begins to gather.

I’m tired of shutting my mouth.

I’ve been respectful, but if that’s going to put me in a breakroom with coffee-drinking guests who’ve never uttered a word to Connor before—then something needs to change.

I’m a part of the Cobalt Empire, and I need to start acting like it.

“Why would you even rely on Tony to pass along information like that?” I ask, not lumping Farrow into this mess. It’s between Connor and me. “You could’ve told me yourself in a text or a call.”

Did I not deserve that?

He knows about the limo and Jane.

It’s all I can think.

He’s punishing me.

I lost his respect.

Something happened.

Connor rests his ass against his desk. “I’m trying to create inroads with your family. That means giving Tony tasks, so he feels important.”

He’s pretending to be close to him. “You don’t have to do that, Connor—sir.”

“Connor is fine. I’ve told you that before.”

I nod. “You don’t need to blow smoke up his ass, respectfully.”

“Michelina Ramella has my phone number somehow,” Connor informs me, and I try not to grimace. I love Tony’s grandmother, but I know she can be relentless in the things she wants. “And she often calls to ensure I’m not being too difficult on Tony and to remind me that he’s a hard worker, kind, etcetera, etcetera.”

I recognize what kind of shit hole he’s stepped in. Because I’m in the same place when it comes to my wedding with Jane. “You know I’m inviting Tony to my wedding out of obligation,” I remind him.

He’s not surprised. “So you don’t burn bridges within your family,” Connor says. “I’m also not in the market to burn bridges. At least not with the people who are truly important to me. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

Yeah.

I used to think it’s good that Tony is on Connor’s detail. He could be verbally spanked for any personal transgressions and be closer to being canned.

Now, I doubt how much I actually like it.

Because Connor Cobalt can’t get Tony fired, and if there were anyone who I thought could do it, it would’ve been him.

“He’s my family, and you don’t want to be at odds with them.”

Connor nods once. “Rose already loves Gloria, and she’d be devastated if we fractured the families, especially before the wedding.”

“That’s not happening.” I rake a hand across my unshaven jaw. “I understand everything, but personally speaking, Tony was already unbearable—and that was before he believed he’s your righthand.”

“And yet, you saved him from a fire at the risk of your own life.” Connor begins to grin like it’s an amusing quirk or flaw.

My selflessness.

“I’m starting to regret it,” I say huskily under my breath.

He hears and grins more. “Don’t.” He stands off the desk. “What you did is what separates you from people like me.”

Farrow has been quietly listening to us from the couch and checking his phone. He frowns, and I realize he didn’t hear what I said.

I tell him about regretting saving Tony, and he just shakes his head.

“No opinion?” I ask.

“You can regret it if you want, but I can’t see you ever stopping yourself from going into that burning townhouse. It wouldn’t matter who was inside, just that someone was in there.” He pops a bubblegum bubble. “And I don’t even need to know you that long to get that sense, man.”

I intake a deeper breath, just hoping that Tony won’t be such a fucking thorn in my ass. But today, he didn’t do anything wrong.

Not really.

It was on me.

I take a glimpse back at the shut door, picturing Tony outside the office. “I should’ve trusted him…it’s just…” I grimace.

“He talks a lot of shit,” Farrow clarifies. “It’s hard to know what’s the truth.”

Connor arches a brow. “That amateur bullshitter fooled both of you?”

Farrow shakes his head, so peeved today that I think it’d be better if Maximoff were here.

“Just me,” I say.

Farrow raises a finger as if to say, me too.

Connor laughs, his blue eyes brightening with the noise, and I ease a second. He rolls up the cuffs of his white button-down to his elbows. Checking his watch, he says, “Ryke is supposed to pick up the food, which means he’ll be ten minutes late. Lo should be here soon.”

I nod and take a seat beside Farrow.

Connor sits in a chair that faces us, and we shouldn’t feel like we’re in a hot seat. This is lunch. A lunch we’ve had with Connor, Ryke, and Lo before as family, but Farrow was right—without Maximoff, it feels different.

More serious, somehow.

Or maybe that’s just because Connor Cobalt is the only one here. And he’s never going to show me all of his cards. The only person who likely sees them is his wife.

And that, I respect.

One day, Jane will be my wife, and I’d want her next to me in everything.

Thank you so, so much for reading! We're back in Thatcher's head, and we hope you enjoyed seeing more of his dynamic with Papa Cobalt (aka his future father-in-law) and his friendship status with Farrow. Speaking of Farrow, the Guys Lunch at Cobalt Inc. is far from over. You'll also have Farrow's POV as this event continues, which means Ryke & Lo will be entering the scene soon 😉

If you're wondering exactly where this scene takes place within all the bonus content and Charming Like Us, this one comes after the RSVP Jane & Thatcher bonuses. You can also head on over to the Chronological Guide to always see where bonuses fall within the timeline. 

And so the adventure continues! Keep on the lookout this month! 

xoxo Krista & Becca

“Guys Lunch at Cobalt Inc. (Thatcher)," Copyright © 2022 by K.B. Ritchie