The Art of Marrying Your Enemy (The Richmond Brothers #2)

28. Aaron

28

AARON

T he one time I actually wanted Grayson to be the loving older brother who would let things slide, he didn’t deliver.

A three-ring binder was dropped on the table in front of me with a thud when I sat in the conference room of Richmond Electric the next week.

“In case you were wondering,” Grayson said dispassionately, resting the tips of his fingers on the conference table, “I do read any contract that could affect my business. And the two of you were not acting like people that have slept together.”

I pushed the binder away from me.

“Unlike you, my life plan isn’t to slowly evolve into a richer version of our father.”

Grayson picked up his cup of boiling hot black tea and sipped it.

“I always assumed Betty was exaggerating your failures in romance for comedic effect.”

“I don’t have failures.”

“This?” Grayson set his cup down. “This is a failure. You have twelve days, Aaron. I’m putting a lot of money in this deal, and you’re not holding up your end of the bargain.”

“I’m working up to it.”

“You’re fucking up. Daisy hates you. She’s not going to let you give her so much as a back rub, let alone…”

He tilted his head, studying me.

“Stop that,” I snapped.

“You’re not having—”

“Performance issues?” I barked. “Fuck you.”

“I myself found it quite a mindfuck with Lexi,” Grayson said kindly, “like I was committing some sort of sin. But Aaron, you have to know that—”

“We are not having this conversation.” I stood up and grabbed my coffee. “You are the last person who should give me advice on romance. Not everyone likes to shit where they eat, Grayson.”

He didn’t take the bait.

“One would hardly expect you to start sleeping with your eighty-year-old assistant.” Grayson smirked. “Though she and Lexi do share a penchant for sparkly shirts.”

My brother was right, goddamn him.

I should just do it. I’d done it before with the women Betty’d tried to set me up with. Go to a bar. Get drunk. Show the house. Sign a contract. Eat them out. Fuck them. Pretend I have to go to the office and throw them out in a town car.

I’d do it now. Fuck him, and fuck Daisy. The minute she had my tongue on her clit, she would be mine.

I canceled my last meeting of the day as I walked into the lobby of the Van de Berg tower.

“Where the hell is Coleman?”

The flighty behavior of her friend Reese clued me in that something was wrong.

“Uh, she just stepped out for a moment.”

“I’ll wait.”

Reese was nervous. She was hiding something.

My employees trickled down to the coffee cart, realized I was standing there, then immediately about-faced and went back to the elevator.

“She might be a while,” Reese said finally. “I don’t know if her mom’s shrimp agreed with her.”

“What terrible news,” I said pleasantly. “Please tell me where she is so I can attend to my wife.”

Reese looked ready to vomit.

I lowered my voice to a growl.

“Tell me where she is, Reese.”

Daisy’s friend hesitated.

“ Now .”

“Just don’t get mad. See, the thing is…”