Chapter 13
Tanner
The Partain dinner is going as well as I expected—which is to say, it’s a fucking disaster.
Amelia Partain is everything Gabriel looks for in a potential mate. Perfectly styled blonde hair, impeccable manners. Her mother keeps dropping not-so-subtle hints about summer mating ceremonies, while her father drones on about merger opportunities between our companies.
She hasn’t said more than ten words that weren’t about her father’s polo team.
“The spring season was quite successful,” Mr. Partain announces, swirling his wine. “Amelia presented the trophy at regionals.”
“How lovely,” Gabriel says, but I can see the tension in his shoulders.
I catch Leo’s eye across the table. We’re both thinking the same thing—I’d rather watch Kimmie demolish duck à l’orange in a t-shirt.
Dinner drags on through dessert and coffee, an endless stream of polite chatter about dull shit that no one cares about unless they have eight figures in their bank account. When the Partains finally leave, I’m ready to crawl out of my skin.
The door barely closes behind them before I round on Gabriel. “Well, that was painful.”
“It was a perfectly acceptable evening.”
“If you have some kind of boredom kink.” I follow him into his study, Leo and Elliot close behind. “Now, about tomorrow—”
“I have the jet ready for an important meeting Monday morning.” Gabriel loosens his tie. “We can approach Kimmie when I return that afternoon, as a pack, and—”
“Yeah, no. We’re going first thing tomorrow.”
“Tanner—”
“She thinks we’re trying to destroy her life,” Leo cuts in. “Every hour we wait reinforces that.”
“The situation requires delicacy,” Gabriel insists.
Elliot quirks an eyebrow. “Like ambushing her with a hostile takeover dinner?”
“That was different—”
“Or cornering her in the shower?” I ask.
“That was—” Gabriel stops, nostrils flaring. “Are you all quite finished?”
“Not even close.” I lean against his desk. “But I will be tomorrow when we go see Kimmie.”
“The restaurant’s closed on Sundays.”
“Then we’ll go to her apartment. She said it’s above the restaurant.”
“That’s not appropriate.”
“More or less appropriate than washing her hair?”
Gabriel’s growl makes the crystal decanters rattle.
“You’re all impossible.” He paces in front of the fireplace. “My morning meeting is with the lead architect. I want the redesigned plans in hand when we approach her—concrete proof we’re serious about compromise.”
“The pack needs—”
“The pack needs to do this right,” Gabriel cuts in.
“Otherwise, she might reject our suit.” Even I don’t have anything smart to say about that.
Kimmie rejecting us isn’t pleasant to think about, and Gabriel knows it.
“I’ve already told the architect money is no object.
He’s rushing changes, but I need those plans,” he says.
“The pack needs Kimmie,” I say flatly. “And you know it.”
He nods. “Fine. But we do this properly. As a pack. Monday afternoon.”
“Agreed,” Elliot says, settling things. “Now, about those new plans.”
“It’s going to cost millions, you know?” Gabriel mutters. “Just to save a waffle shop.”
“No,” Leo says quietly. “To save something priceless.”
And really, there’s nothing else to say after that.