Chapter Twelve #3
“I’ll take a seven-pump vanilla soy with twelve scoops of
matcha green tea latte, and make sure it’s exactly 180 degrees,” Mark ordered.
“Not a hundred and seventy-nine. Not a hundred and eighty-one.”
Stella sighed and looked Brooke’s way.
Brooke yawned. “Stella, this is my former boss. You know,
the one who stole my designs and fired me, but not before asking for a blow
job.”
Stella’s brows rose in surprise. “Any particular reason
you’re sitting here with him?”
Brooke shrugged. “Curiosity.”
“Ah,” Stella said. “He can fuck himself then. I’ll get you
the usual. You let me know if you want to graduate your membership to a real
one, baby girl. You know I’m always ready.”
Brooke gave her a thumbs-up.
“What did that woman mean about membership?” Mark watched
warily as Stella walked away.
“Oh, just a woman’s club.” She didn’t mention that Stella
was talking about her membership in the I Shot a Son of a Bitch Club. Not that
she’d actually like blown a dude who deserved it away, but she had hit one with
a water gun when she was eight because he was complaining that The Trading Post
was terrible and Marie should be fired. So Brooke tried to take him out, and
then she’d been made a provisional member of the club. Mostly because Marie
thought it was cute and Teeny thought she needed to learn gun safety.
Mark didn’t need to know that charming story from her
childhood.
“Well, she was rude and so were you,” Mark complained. “You
know some things should be kept private. Also, I thought you signed an NDA.”
“I would have to have been offered compensation to sign an
NDA,” she pointed out. “I can say whatever I like. Tell all of my truths to
anyone who would like to know. Now why am I here?”
Mark frowned. “You know I have some truths of my own. Do
these people know how your brothers live?”
She managed to not emit an entirely unladylike snort. She
leaned over. Caleb Burke was sitting at the counter with a plate of bacon and
eggs in front of him. “Hey, Doc. Did you know my brothers are married to the
same woman?”
Caleb’s head turned and he frowned her way. “Of course I do.
Who do you think did their vasectomies? Not in time to spare the world another
of Max’s spawn, though. I’m pretty sure those two quiet boys in the middle are
Rye’s, but Paige is pure Max.”
He went right back to his breakfast.
“No one cares here.” Brooke was finding it kind of
satisfying to see this man so out of his element.
“I’m sure no one who matters cares,” Mark replied. “We’re in
the middle of nowhere and some random man doesn’t care. I assure you there are
people who will. She’s going to get my order wrong, isn’t she?”
Oh, Stella would have already forgotten he existed. “You
won’t be getting any orders here. Stella hates you.”
“Who is Stella?” Mark asked, glancing around.
“She owns the café, and her husband owns a company called
Talbot Industries,” she explained.
“Any relation to Stefan Talbot? The painter? I thought he
was the heir to Talbot Industries.” Mark always did know who the rich and
powerful people of the world were.
“She’s his stepmom. Now Stef is actually married to one
woman.”
“Jennifer Talbot. She did the series of watercolors that
took the New York art world by storm. That’s his stepmother? What was his
father thinking?”
“Uhm, that he loved her. Also, the guy at the counter who
doesn’t matter is Dr. Caleb Burke, but he goes by his mother’s maiden name.
Sommerville is his real last name. The Chicago Sommervilles.
His brother is a sitting senator. Oh, and he’s married to a woman named Holly
and has a partner who’s a former Russian mobster. Now Alexei is fully reformed
and has a deep belief in nonviolence, but I bet he would be willing to take a
trip down memory lane if you want to insult his wife and partner.”
Mark’s head shook as though it needed clearing. “I’m
confused, Brooke. You never mentioned you had ties to such interesting people.
I knew you were from this tiny town in Colorado. I would have assumed if you
knew anyone important, you met them in the city.”
She had no doubt he wasn’t talking about Denver. In Mark’s
mind there was only one American city. “I have a couple of friends who live
part time in Manhattan. They’re my family and friends. They don’t have anything
to do with my work beyond helping to pay for my education. Stef ponied up the
cash for Parson’s. Should I have put that on my résumé?”
“Well, I do admit to wondering how a girl from such a tiny,
poor town managed to go to Parson’s for her graduate work. You have to admit
you’re not the usual.”
She wasn’t from a wealthy family. She wasn’t from a city
with the best schools. “I never wanted to be usual.”
But hadn’t that been what she kind of strove for in New
York? She tried so hard to fit in, and until she’d gone to work at Bianchi,
she’d never wanted to do that. She’d enjoyed standing out. No one in Bliss
would ever tell her she needed to wear the right clothes or speak in a certain
way. They celebrated her weirdness and loved her for her unique soul.
Had she been so worried about failing she let those people
in the city grind her down?
It was a revelation. One that kind of smacked her hard.
Why would talking about her brothers’ relationship create a
hostile work environment? It was New York City. One of the women who complained
to HR talked about how she had three guys on her string and none of them knew.
What about the dude in accounting who told all kinds of
stories about how he managed to get women in bed because they thought he could
get them free shoes? He couldn’t and he ghosted them the next day.
Why should she let them take everything from her? Her
brothers would stand beside her. So would Rachel. So would…
Her niece would offer to kick all their shins and bring
Charlie and Zander Hollister-Wright into the battle.
They had no idea what the world could do to them.
Sometimes the fight was worth it. Sometimes the cost was far
too great.
“No, I’m not usual. I suppose that’s why I never fit in at
Bianchi,” she admitted. It was an admission to herself as much as to Mark.
Mark’s expression took on that pained, slightly constipated
look he got when he was trying to seem compassionate. He reached across the
table and put a hand on hers. “Brooke, that’s simply not true. I don’t think
anyone understood how important you are. I came here to apologize.”
She pulled her hand away and wished she could put more space
between them. “For stealing my work or sexually harassing me?”
Caleb stood and turned.
Damn the doc and his excellent hearing. And for a man who
claimed a certain level of misanthropy, Doc liked to listen in. A lot.
“Caleb, I can handle him,” Brooke said in a firm tone
because Caleb liked to handle things for people from time to time.
She’d heard Alexei started a group for citizens with anger
issues. Caleb would be their poster child. Not that he belonged to it. He’d
told his partner that he was fine with his own rage. No issues involved.
Though she had heard Marie was doing well.
Maybe she could get Paige in early.
Caleb gave her a perfectly feral smile. “But why when I
could stick a fork in his neck, collapse his jugular, and then refuse treatment
on the grounds that I don’t wanna.”
“Sit down, Doc,” Stella ordered in a soothing tone. “Your
wife is walking up the street with Amelia. You don’t want your baby girl seeing
you murder someone. Even if they deserve it.”
Mark had moved to the window side of the booth. As though
that could save him. When Caleb sat back down, Mark leaned over, whispering.
“He does not seem like a Sommerville at all. I don’t think they’re violent.”
“He’s not. He’s literally a doctor, and I’ve watched him
save the lives of people over and over,” Brooke explained.
“Yeah, well, today’s a new day,” Caleb vowed, but he
refocused on his breakfast.
Mark seemed to gather his courage around him and sat up
straight again. “As to your question, it’s both. Brooke, you’re a gorgeous,
unbelievably talented designer, and I am both attracted to you and jealous of
you. It’s what I should have admitted in the first place. I should have offered
what I’m going to offer now. A partnership.”
If he had before, she would have jumped at the offer and
never looked back.
Would that have been a mistake?
She wanted to throw it back in his face and tell him to go
to hell. She didn’t need his partnership. But she also shouldn’t toss out the
offer. Not that she would work with him. She couldn’t trust him in any way, but
if he was her way back to the life she had before, she had to hear him out.
Did she want that life back?
She couldn’t even contemplate the answer to the question
without talking to him. If she tossed him out right now, she would never have
the chance to make the choice.
“What would that look like?” She was curious about how far
he would go. And what prompted this visit since she knew damn well it wasn’t
because he was sorry. The man had no shame, so this was about something else
and she wanted to know the whys.
Mark’s eyes lit like he thought he had her now. “Well, I’ve
talked to Gianna and she’s agreed to put your name on the line along with mine,
and she wants us to design a fabulous gown as the final look, something that
will wow on the runway.”
Curiouser and curiouser. “My line was ski and resort wear.”
It was chic but fairly casual. She’d done plenty of evening
gowns but mostly in a wedding sense or as costumes. She’d never been allowed to
work on the high-end gowns at Bianchi. That was for the Marks of the company.
She glanced over and saw Trev McNamara walk through the
door, the bell jingling as he approached the counter.
Her heart squeezed because seeing that cowboy walk in made
her think of her own. It made her wonder if Shane had run his errands and was
back on the G with his brother. Hopefully talking about whatever went wrong the
night before.
Trev nodded a greeting her way and then started talking to
Stella.
Mark huffed, getting her attention again. “Yes, I know, and
I see such great potential in them. It’s why I fought for you with Gianna.
She’s impressed, too.”
Gianna Bianchi wasn’t impressed with anything. Also, Brooke
would be shocked if the woman knew her name. She spent all her time in Europe.
She came to the New York offices for Fashion Week and left as soon as she
could. “That’s nice. So she wants me to design a gown to close a show?”
Mark put up a hand. “She wants us to design a gown to close
the F/W show. But she’s going to give an early preview. A salon show in Milan.
You’ll be in the room with some of the most influential people in fashion. You
understand what a salon show can do for you?”
Fall/Winter show and a salon show? F/W would be a showing
during Fashion Week, and having her name on an actual show would be
unimaginable at this stage. But a salon show… Fashion Week was always dizzying
with so much going on it could be hard to stand out. A small salon show at
Bianchi HQ in Italy would be all about her. She had no doubt Gianna could bring
in some heavy hitters from the fashion world. And they would leave knowing the
name Brooke Harper.
Was she willing to put her pride on the shelf for that
opportunity?
“I still don’t understand the change of heart.” She didn’t
trust it at all.
Mark stood and moved to her side of the booth. He didn’t
give her a chance to protest, simply sat beside her, crowding her. “Brooke, you
don’t understand why I want to make things right with the most talented
designer I have? Baby, there’s a reason I wanted my name on your work. First,
though, we should acknowledge that while I didn’t do it in a particularly nice
way, I had every right to take credit. You worked under me. It’s common
practice.”
She didn’t like being so close to him. Did Caleb still have
his fork? She looked over and he had Amelia in his arms, the little girl
wrapped around her loving father while her mom had a cup of coffee. Alexei had
found his way in, too. He’d probably parked the car while Holly had walked down
the street.
They looked so happy together, and once no one thought it
was possible for Caleb to be happy.
Could she have that with Shane and Bay? Could she find a way
to make it work?
What did she want more? Her career back or something new?
“Sure,” she said absently. Trev usually came into town with
someone. Likely because he was running errands, and that often involved lifting
heavy objects like feed and manure, and that should make her wrinkle her nose
but all she could think about was the fact that it was getting warm and
sometimes Shane would take off his shirt when he was hauling stuff and his
chest would be on display. Only a few days before the men had been replacing
one of the barn doors and Beth had brought out lemonade and cookies. The kids
had played, and she and Beth and Hope had sipped lemonade and watched all those
pretty men.
When Bay realized she was drooling over Shane’s abs, he’d
tossed his own shirt off, and she swore that man figured out a way to make his
jeans hang super low on his hips. Trev had even commented on it.
Beth told him to stop messing with her show, and that was
when Brooke found herself watching some kids while Beth got to go to the
playroom.
Hope had sighed and wished someone would spank her, too.
She never got to do that in New York, much less watch two
gorgeous men who claimed to want her. Or sit around and boldly talk about
spankings and which flogger was the best, and no one blinked when she
complained about the plug her men made her wear.
She felt Mark put a hand on her wrist. “Good, then you
understand that I’m offering you something real. Brooke, I went about this all
wrong. I should have asked you to dinner and discussed how we could move
forward. I should never have said what I said to you, but I was jealous. You
seemed to be flirting with everyone but the one man who really wanted you.”
“I don’t flirt.” Much. She wasn’t some outrageous flirt,
drawing men into her web. What had he said about someone wanting her? “Who are
you talking about? Please tell me it isn’t Ronnie from reception because you
know he’s teasing, right? If he doesn’t know he’s into men, someone should tell
him.”
He brought her hand to his mouth and laid a kiss on it. “I
was talking about me, Brooke. I think we can build something beautiful
together.”
She was horrified when he started leaning toward her.
“Hey, you two stay calm,” Trev was saying.
And then Mark was ripped from the booth.
Bay and her brother were here, and she was going to need
bail money.