16. Chapter 15
Chapter 15
Keaton
Social media was part of my job as Lincoln Grady Distillery’s brand manager, whether I liked it or not. Like every morning, a flood of messages awaited me on the official LGD accounts as well as my private ones. I sat at my walnut desk in my office, scrolling through the pictures I’d been tagged in. It didn’t look good.
There were shots of Delilah pressing her body against mine when she’d hugged me from behind. Shots of Layne in her dress—if you could call it that—with a lot of nasty comments.
Did she steal that dress from a homeless person?
I bet Keaton and her won’t last longer than three weeks.
This was the downside of having two million followers. Everyone was always up in your business.
I leaned back in my executive chair and glanced out the window front on my left. Velvet Drive was packed with rush hour traffic—the reason I always came in early. Business people clinging to coffee cups or briefcases hurried past, unaware of me sitting beyond the reflective glass. A handful of tourists strolled past the shops and restaurants across the street. Some lingered at the beach, watching surfers catching waves.
With a sigh, I pressed the button on my desk that activated the smart window. The surface instantly darkened, blocking out the distracting view. It was only a matter of time till the Dragon would summon me into her office like my high school principal had almost weekly. What was I supposed to answer to those comments? Either I defended Layne, or kept my mouth shut.
My phone rang, and without looking at it, I knew it was Regina. I toyed with the thought of ignoring her, but I’d have to talk to her eventually.
I answered the call on the fifth ring. “What can I do for you on this beautiful morning?”
“I told you that dress would make you look bad.”
Gripping the receiver tighter, I took a calming breath. Planted my loafers on the silver silk carpet. “I’ll make sure she wears something different for the gala.”
“You better. You know what’s at stake if you don’t.”
The call dropped.
I slammed the receiver on its cradle. Why did everyone have to criticize Layne? It wasn’t like she’d been born into a privileged family or was used to having her privacy invaded by a bunch of entitled strangers.
Muttering an oath, I pulled up my first social media page and started typing. Mess with me if you must, but don’t involve my wife.
The rest of the day was crammed with calls and meetings. As promised to Layne, I was home by eight. I found her lounging on a couch in the living room. Had she been here all day? Didn’t look sick to me. More like too lazy to work.
“Hey.” Loosening my tie, I made a beeline for the bar cart and poured myself a Family Reserve, neat as always. “You want one?”
“No, thank you.”
I glanced over my shoulder. “You just turned down the world’s best whiskey.”
“All tastes the same to me.” Layne shrugged.
“All tastes the—” I grabbed the Family Reserve and held it up. “Do you know the history behind this bottle? How long it took my ancestors to perfect the recipe?”
She scrunched up her nose. “I don’t. Is this bourbon?”
Man, was she offending us on purpose? “We make rye and single malt. Bourbon is for sissies.”
“Why?”
“A bourbon’s grain bill must be at least 51% corn, which is sweeter than rye, barley, or wheat. Real men drink Lincoln Grady.” I ambled over to her and settled on the other couch. Took a sip, savoring the tingling spiciness. “Ready to become an investment genius?”
“Yes.” Layne studied me for a moment. Her dark curls were pulled back in a low ponytail, and she wore gray sweatpants and a black hoodie. “Rough day?”
I pulled some Linc through my teeth. Swallowed it. “Don’t listen to what those people say online, all right?”
She blinked. “I didn’t look at my socials today. Sorry I wore that dress. I—”
“Doesn’t matter. What’s more important is the dress you’re going to wear to the gala this weekend.”
“I have a friend who’s a dressmaker. She’s sewing one and will mail it to me.”
“What kind of dress?” Not sure I liked this idea. My plan had been to have my tailor come in and take her measurements.
Layne pulled out her phone, thumbed around, then turned it to me. An elegant red dress filled the cracked screen.
I nodded my approval. “Looks good.” Couldn’t wait to see her wear it. “Shoes?”
“She’ll mail some as well.”
“Good.” I rose. “All right. Investing. You know what that is?”
“Um, purchasing assets, such as shares and stocks, with the aim of it growing in value, then selling it for more than you bought it.”
Tumbler still in hand, I pointed at her. “Exactly. First, we’ll make a financial plan for you with goals and milestones.”
“I’m not the best at planning.”
“Don’t worry, it’s easy. Do you have any skills you can make money off?”
She pursed her lips. “Not that I can think of.”
“Tell me about your hobbies.”
“Hobbies . . . I enjoy drawing and painting, but—”
“You got any pictures?”
She again grabbed her phone and tapped around, then turned it to me.
Leaning in, I took in the pencil drawing of a deer drinking from a stream in front of a pine tree forest. The water actually looked like it was flowing, and the fur of the deer was incredibly detailed. A Bible verse was written at the top: As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, my God. Psalm 42:1
“You did that?” I asked, awe saturating my words.
“Mm-hmm.” Layne pressed her lips together, looking up at me with those big, dark eyes. “I know it’s not the best—”
“Not the best?” I huffed. “This is incredible, Layne. It’ll definitely sell—”
Craaash!
A window behind me exploded, glass raining to the hardwood floor. I dove toward Layne. Tucked my head as I shielded her with my body.
Several seconds passed, the only sound our heavy breathing and crickets filtering through the gaping hole where, just a minute ago, a floor-to-ceiling window had been.
I risked a glance over my shoulder. A brick with a paper wrapped around it lay in a sea of shards. “You okay?” I asked as I turned back to Layne.
Eyes wide, she nodded. “What was that?”
Most definitely another threat. I rose and stalked over to the brick. Glass crunched under my socks. I freed the paper.
My patience is wearing thin.
Ditto.
“What does it say?”
I crumpled the threat and stuffed it into my slacks. “Nothing.”
Although it didn’t feel like nothing anymore. Someone had breached my security system to throw a brick through my living room window.
What was it going to be next time? A bullet through my head?