Chapter 1 Grafton
Grafton
Christmas carols pour from the speakers mounted in each corner of the room, and my fingers tighten around the glass in my hand.
I’ve got no problem with the holiday season, but I’m in no mood for socializing—a feeling that’s only compounded when I catch sight of a familiar face moving through the crowd, his determined gaze pinned on me.
I throw back the rest of my drink, welcoming the burn of the whiskey as it slides down my throat, and deposit the glass on a passing server’s tray with a small smile of thanks.
“Grafton,” Thatcher greets as he comes to a stop at my side. “You’re a hard one to catch.”
I eye my brother with feigned interest. “You should have made an appointment with Judith.”
His watery blue eyes brighten with irritation as he tells me through gritted teeth, “I tried. She kept hanging up on me.”
“Huh.” I rub a hand over my jaw. “That doesn’t sound like Judith. Must be a problem with the phone lines.”
“Grafton—”
“How did you know about tonight?” I interrupt. “I’m sure you’re already aware, but this is a company Christmas party.” I smile, but it’s not nice. “Last I checked, you didn’t work for me, Thatch.”
His nose wrinkles. “Why would I?” he asks huffily. “I earn enough money through the interest on my trust fund.” His irritation seems to fade away, leaving only something sly that he hides behind a slow blink. “But that is something I want to talk to you about.”
My mouth curls. “You want a job? That would be an interesting change of pace for you.”
“Not me.” He huffs. “Angelica.”
I slide my hands into the pockets of my dress pants, fighting the urge to tell him to fuck himself. “You want me to give your daughter—”
“And your niece,” he cuts in, but I continue.
“—a job when she is vastly unqualified and inexperienced?”
“She has a degree in marketing,” Thatcher hisses. “She is perfectly qualified to work at your agency.”
“That means she’s perfectly capable of working for another marketing firm,” I say with disinterest, eyes surveying the crowded room. I’ve only recently relocated to Ashland. This branch of Reynolds & Media Co. is smaller than I am used to, but it has real potential for growth.
I can’t say it was a hardship to get out of New York and the societal obligations and responsibilities that hounded me there. It has been a nice change of pace, knowing my work day ends when I leave the office and won’t follow me home—for the most part.
Thatcher steps into my field of view, his face red. “She wanted a chance to work with her uncle—”
Rolling my eyes at that load of bullshit, I shake my head. “I don’t have any internships for her.” I smile in greeting as the creative director, Marsh Copeland, walks past with a glass of red wine in her hand. When she’s out of earshot, I look back at my brother. “She’ll have to apply in May.”
Thatcher looks aghast. “She has to apply for an internship?” He rakes a hand through his dark hair, frustration glimmering in his eyes. “Graft, she’s family. That should count for something.”
“Why?” I ask simply.
“Why?” he chokes out. “I thought family took care of each other.” There’s a bitterness coating his words that has me fighting back the urge to roll my eyes again.
“Our family has,” I say reasonably. “You just said you earn enough money on your trust fund, right? That’s how Angelica got her degree, after all.”
Shock flares his eyes before he tamps it down. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure, Thatch,” I return dryly. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to circulate. You can see yourself out, I’m sure.”
He pins one last glare on me. “You’re an asshole, Grafton. Hope you know that.”
“And your opinion stopped mattering to me a long time ago,” I murmur. “Probably around the time you decided that getting your dick wet was more important than me being your brother.”
He’s always held an unnecessary sense of competition between us, believing that we’re in some sort of game where he “wins” every time he steals a woman from me.
It backfired when he went after someone he believed I was interested in—in reality, I only spoke to her twice—and ended up knocking her up with Angelica.
His mouth tightens, but he doesn’t have anything to say to that. Instead, he shoots one last glare my way before spinning on his heel and storming off. I watch him go with amusement, but just as he crashes through the ballroom doors, my eyes catch on a flash of green.
My brows furrow as my eyes lock on a woman standing by herself at the bottom of the opulent Christmas tree. Her head is tilted back, dark hair cascading down her back, the lights of the tree dancing over her profile.
The silky green dress she’s wearing highlights the red undertones in her hair, hugging the curves of her lithe frame, but it’s her face that I’m locked in on.
I can’t see the color of her eyes, and it’s maddening, how strong the urge is to march over there and find out.
But I can see the way her cheek pulls up in a soft, wistful smile as she stares at the Christmas tree—like it holds all the answers she’s looking for.
I want her to look at me like that.
The thought startles me, my breath catching in my chest as I finally drag my eyes away from her, feeling like someone’s just shoved me off a cliff.
“Grafton.” My assistant appears at my side, a glass of wine in one hand and a whiskey in the other. “I thought you might need this after Thatcher’s impromptu visit.”
“Thank you, Judith,” I murmur, taking the glass from her, immediately taking a healthy swallow. “Do you know who that is?”
“Who?” She follows my line of sight curiously. “Hmm…no, she doesn’t look familiar. But I’m still getting to know everyone.”
Judith decided to follow me from New York, with the incentive of a handsome bonus and raise, and I was eternally grateful for it.
I’m not sure I would ever manage to cope without her.
It proved to be good timing. Her husband has taken the opportunity to retire, spending most of his time woodworking in their garden shed.
“I’ve confirmed that Thatcher left,” she tells me quietly. “I had security discreetly follow him out.” Her mouth looks like she’s just sucked on a lemon.
I grin at her. “Thank you. You’re always a step ahead of me.”
“It’s why you pay me the big bucks,” she quips, and I chuckle before my eyes find their way back to the woman, like they’ve been yanked by a magnet.
“How is the rest of the evening?” I murmur, and Judith shifts at my side.
“Good. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves. There’s still a lot of talk about the fact that the big, bad CEO has taken up the managing director position so suddenly, but they’re mostly swinging with it.”
“Mostly?” I flick an eyebrow up.
Judith glances around before lowering her voice. “It turns out that the head of accounts thought he would be getting the position. He’s been the most vocal about the change, but he’s also very careful about who he’s talking to.”
Amusement tugs at my mouth. “Not careful enough, clearly.”
She grins. “Not much gets past me. You know that.” There’s a short pause, and when I glance at her, she’s looking at me meaningfully. “Are you going to go talk to her?”
I glance back at the Christmas tree just in time to see a man striding up to her side and looping an arm around her waist. She leans into him with easy familiarity, her head tipping back as she looks up at him.
“Not tonight,” I murmur, looking down at my assistant scowling in their direction.
“Isn’t that…”
“The head of accounts?” I finish for her. “Yes. Yes, it is. The irony is biting tonight.”
As much as the woman has enchanted me, I don’t get involved with married women. Still, I don’t think I’ve ever reacted so viscerally to someone before, and I know it’s going to be a long time before I get the image of her out of my head.
“Do you want me to get more information?”
“No,” I say quickly, not wanting the temptation of knowing more about her than I already do, even if the urge to demand the information is a drumbeat in my blood. “But I would like to know more about him.”
“Christopher Delcourt,” she supplies immediately.
“Delcourt,” I echo. “Why is that name familiar to me?”
“They’re old money,” Judith whispers as someone passes close by.
“A powerhouse in this area…or at least, they used to be. Rumor has it that the father, Bradley Delcourt, almost lost the entirety of the family’s fortune through a series of bad investments.
They’re clinging to ‘high society’”—she rolls her eyes on the words—“with broken nails and zero dignity.”
My brows lift. “Interesting choice for their son to go into marketing.”
She looks at me out of the corner of her eye. “He probably thought it was the easy option.”
My lips quirk at that. “Perhaps. Remind me to call Knox on Monday morning.” He’s an old friend from my college days, and one who only happens to live an hour away from me now.
His talent has always favored technology—the kind of skills that mean he gets access and information he wasn’t always entitled to.
Judith dips her chin. “You got it, Boss Man.”
I flick her annoyed glance, but she only laughs, looping her arm through mine. “Let’s go mingle with the masses. We need them to get used to you, because your size is clearly still freaking them out.”
“My size?” I echo, offended. “I think they’re more freaked out by the fact that I’m the big, bad CEO.”
She gives me an assessing look before shaking her head. “No, it’s definitely your size.”