4. Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Keaton
“You look like you’re coming straight from the Dragon’s cave.”
Settling on the only free chair at the table my three brothers occupied, I shot Wentworth a side-eye. “Because I am.”
The chatter of other patrons enjoying their lunch at Dos Amigos mingled with the sound of trumpets and guitars playing from wall-mounted speakers. Every table was occupied, the smell of nachos and melted cheese making my mouth water.
“What did she want?” Tatum’s white polo shirt contrasted his deep tan, indicating he’d spent the past couple weeks on his superyacht to either focus on lawyer work, or checking on one of his properties he rented out all over the world. At thirty-seven, he was the oldest of us and one of the hardest working men I’d ever encountered. The only reason I even had a shot at taking over LGD was because he’d taken a pass. He wanted nothing to do with our parents.
I couldn’t blame him.
“Wasn’t happy about seeing my mug on the cover of tabloids.” I loosened my tie, then snagged a nacho from the basket sitting in the middle of the table.
“What did you do this time?” Kingsley asked. No surprise he had no idea what was going on. The monastery he lived in had zero connection to the outside world. No phones, no Wi-Fi, no news, nothing.
A server cradling a tablet rescued me by stepping up to our table. The red apron did nothing to hide her curves. Her brown eyes landed on me. “My name is Ava, and I will be your server today. Your friends have already ordered. What can I get you, sweetheart?”
“The special, please.”
“One burrito . . .” she murmured while making notes on the tablet with a stylus.
“And a wife. I need a wife.” I was only half kidding.
Ava’s head came up. She took me in for a moment, then pointed the end of her pen at Kingsley. “No offense, but he’s more my type.”
Not surprising. With his dark brown hair and beard, green eyes, and square jaw, Kingsley looked like a model straight out of an outdoor magazine. Not to mention his toned muscles earned from hours of daily physical labor.
I tried to hide the grin, I really did. “Well . . .” Leaning back in my chair, I clamped a hand on Kingsley’s shoulder. “My brother here is a monk about to become a priest. He lives in celibacy.”
Ava’s mouth fell open, her cheeks taking on the color of the ketchup bottle on our table. “Oh my, I-I’m so sorry, Father. I had no idea. You’re wearing normal clothes and you’re so . . . young.”
Ever the gentleman, Kingsley smiled. “It’s Brother Samuel. I’m still in seminary, so not a priest yet.”
No idea why monks were given other names when joining a monastery, and no idea why he’d joined one at age eighteen. I never asked, and he never mentioned the reason.
“Sorry, Brother Samuel.” Ava clung to her tablet like it was her lifeline. “Uh, do you guys need anything else?”
“We’re good, thanks,” I said.
“Okay, sir, your burrito is coming right up.” She fled from our table, disappearing in the kitchen behind the bar.
Chuckling, I looked back at Kingsley. “You should rethink your vows, bro. She’s hot.”
“Right, because being a playboy like you is so much better.” He heaved a dramatic sigh. “Some of us find more value in life than chasing after the fleeting pleasures of the world.”
“What’s that? Running around in a skirt and praying all day to a god who doesn’t care?” I clicked my tongue. “Sounds very fulfilling.”
I respected Kingsley and his decisions, and he respected mine. Yet we loved ribbing each other over our completely different lifestyles. Frankly, sometimes I envied him for the serenity he exuded. My life was void of any kind of peace, my modus vivendi self-destructive and unfulfilling. I was well aware of that, but it was the only thing that made me feel . . . something.
“First of all, it’s a habit, not a skirt,” Kingsley said slowly, as if I were an idiot.
I grinned.
“Second, God does care. Maybe if you weren’t so consumed by your ego you’d notice His presence.”
The way his tone had turned from playful mocking to serious grated on my nerves. It always did when he talked about God. Drained the fun right out of our conversation.
I sniffed. “Well, looks like I’m about to leave my ‘playboy’ life behind. I’m getting married.”
Silence shrouded our table, all three of my brothers staring at me.
Then they burst into laughter.
“What?” I asked, knowing exactly what was so funny.
“You getting married?” Wentworth wheezed. “Yeah, right.”
“Why?” Tatum asked.
“Regina told me I have to if I want to take over LGD.” The anger from earlier came back with a vengeance. I swear I could strangle that woman. “After that whole scandal with Laurent, she says it’s the only way to recover my image. She doesn’t want a screwup to be the CEO.”
That was the problem though. I could marry the perfect woman, become the best man in the world, and Regina would still see me as a screwup. Nothing I did could change her mind.
But I would prove her wrong. Show her that I was the top choice for CEO.
“Who’s the lucky girl?” Kingsley asked.
“Not sure yet,” I admitted. “All I know is that I have to be married for a year. Then I can ditch her and get back to my old life.”
Tatum shot me a look.
“Delilah?” Wentworth asked, his eyes inconspicuously scanning the restaurant and entrance for threats as he was trained to do. He never sat with his back to the door.
I snorted. “Nah.”
“Why not? You guys spend a lot of time together.”
“Ever heard of the term friends with benefits? There’s a reason why we’re exactly that.” She was cool and sophisticated, but a very complicated and demanding individual. The only reason I spent so much time with her was because she was one of the few women who didn’t get attached and didn’t want a relationship. Her soul was just as rotten as mine.
“Then who?” Kingsley asked.
I shrugged. “Still have to figure that out.”
“Wait, I know someone.” Wentworth leaned forward, his eyes gleaming. “You’ve met my boss, Tripp Rhyner.”
Oh yeah, at Wentworth’s wedding three years ago. Rhyner was an intense, hulk-like guy. “He’s a sexy beast, but I’m not really into dudes.”
“His sister, Layne, is looking for a husband,” Wentworth went on, ignoring my joke. “She’s sick and can’t work, but the government doesn’t support her financially, so she needs someone who provides.”
Ah, Layne. I remembered her.
I blinked. “That’s genius! When she dies, I’m free and can get back to my old life. Man, why haven’t I thought of this before?”
Tatum shot me another look that should’ve incinerated me on the spot. Didn’t share my sense of humor.
“She’s chronically ill, you idiot,” Wentworth said. “She won’t die anytime soon.”
“Calm down, I was kidding.” Wow, did they really think I was such a jerk? “Tell me more about her.” The only thing I knew was what she looked like. Not exactly my type.
“Honestly don’t know much. She’s Swiss and—”
“Swiss?” I raised an eyebrow. Now that he mentioned it, I remembered her having a slight accent. “Don’t they all have a stick up their rear?”
“I dare you say that to Tripp’s face.”
“Doesn’t count. He’s part American.” That was the only explanation as to why he served in the US Army.
“Yeah, he’s her half brother—” Wentworth’s gaze snapped over my shoulder. “Incoming.”
Glancing behind me, I saw Stuart Laurent march through the door.
“Grady!” He charged past the tables occupied with curious patrons like a bull seeing red, bearing down on me.
I stood. “Stuart—”
I saw the fist coming. Could’ve easily blocked it.
Instead, I ate it.
My head snapped back on impact with his knuckles, and I stumbled into our table, spilling drinks and knocking over condiments.
Tatum stepped in front of me, probably thinking I’d throw one of my own. Wasn’t planning on it. Laurent was mad for obvious reasons, and if using me as his punching bag helped him to vent, I’d let him. Not to mention Regina would cut me loose for good if I started dealing out blows.
Meanwhile, Wentworth wrestled back a cussing Laurent. The guy went through the entire dictionary, calling me names that made a mother a table over cover her son’s ears.
I wiped blood from the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand, tasting lead. Laurent could throw a punch, had to give him that.
“You good?” Tatum asked.
My gaze snapped to a teenage girl, who had her phone out, obviously recording. More bad media.
Great.
I sniffed. Shrugged my shirt back into place and righted my tie. “Peachy.”
Tatum didn’t sit down until I did.
“Are you okay?” Ava asked, as she came to our table. Her big brown eyes searched my face. “Do you need a doctor?”
I chuckled. “I’m good. Thanks, Ava.”
“You’re a real genius, aren’t you?” Wentworth rejoined us. He’d escorted Laurent all the way to the door and tossed him outside, as if he were a bouncer.
“No idea what you’re talking about,” I said, digging into my burrito that had finally been served.
“Charlotte? Really?” Wentworth scoffed. “That was stupid, even for you.”
“I drove her home because she was drunk off her backside,” I said around a bite.
“That why you shoved your tongue down her throat?”
“She shoved her tongue down my throat.”
“Guys.” Kingsley held up his hands. “Can you stop being so vulgar?”
Funny that the youngest of us had to tell us to behave. But he was right.
“Sorry, champ.” I meant it. The last thing I wanted was to send Kingsley fleeing back to his monastery. He hardly ever got a vacation, and this was the first time in years the four of us got to hang out together. Didn’t want to spoil this rare moment.
“Can I tell Rhyner you’re interested in Layne?” Wentworth asked.
My mind flashed back to the night I’d met her. She’d been quiet, almost shy. Average body, dark brown curls in a low ponytail, mahogany eyes. Could I stay married to her for a year? Her illness made her the perfect candidate. Marrying a sick woman would most definitely boost my image.
“You know what? Why not?”
My brothers once again gaped at me. They knew as much as I did that things would get interesting.