16. Brian
CHAPTER 16
Brian
For an hour, I’ve been pacing the hall, grinding the carpet down to threads. Guilt claws at my insides, prickly and relentless, refusing to let up.
I never should have brought the kids tonight. The thought of little Snooki being sick because I was desperate to dodge a date with Roxie Voss crushes me with every step.
When Harrison finally emerges from Snooki’s bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him, my nerves stretch to the point of snapping. “Is she okay?”
“She’s fine. And she’s definitely learned her lesson about downing six cookies before dinner.”
Relief floods through me, and I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding, dragging a hand through my hair. “Perfectly good cookies...wasted on Roxana’s purse.”
We head to the kitchen where we can talk without waking the kids. “Beer? Something stronger?” Harrison offers.
“After tonight? The strongest you’ve got. Maybe a notch just below jet fuel. ”
He grabs two tumblers from the cabinet and a bottle of whiskey, pouring a generous amount into each glass.
“Thanks,” I say, accepting the drink with a grateful nod. With one satisfying sip, the tension melts away.
Harrison leans back against the counter, his eyes studying me over the rim of his glass. “So, what’s the story with the woman?”
I pause, caught off guard. “What woman?”
“The nice lady Snooks told me about. The one you were making, and I quote, ‘googly eyes’ at.”
I groan, rubbing a hand over my face. “Googly eyes? Obviously, Snooki-pie was deliriously ill. I’m a grown man.” I stand taller. “Grown men do not make googly eyes.”
“Not for just anyone. So, who is she?”
“It’s . . . complicated.”
“Complicated?” He raises an eyebrow, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “Try me.”
Relenting, I sigh. “Peach Pop.”
“Peach Pop?” Harrison’s interest is piqued as he swirls the amber liquid in his glass. “Who’s that?”
“Juliana Spenser. Jules to her friends. Ms. Spenser to me.” His eyes widen with intrigue. “She was at the restaurant tonight.”
“Snooks said she was beautiful. Like a princess.”
I hesitate, the words sticking in my throat as I search for the right way to say it. “Beautiful isn’t the half of it. I’ve been head over heels for that girl since high school. The problem is...I may have briefly dated her sister.”
Harrison winces, sucking in a breath. “Yikes.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, the guilt creeping back in. “I knew it was a mistake. Especially when she stole and maxed out my first credit card. But I let it go on for way too long.”
“Why?” he asks, studying me as he waits for the rest.
But the truth is lodged so deep in my chest, it takes everything I have to pry it loose. I down the rest of my glass, the burn of the whiskey nothing compared to the ache of what I’m about to admit.
I force myself to say it out loud. Tell the truth for once. “To be close to Jules.”
For a long moment, we sit in silence; the only sound is the soft splash of whiskey as Harrison refills my glass.
He finally lets out a low whistle, crossing his arms as he leans back. “So, you’ve got it bad for the baby sister, huh? So, when are you going to see her?”
I huff out a dry laugh, shaking my head. “If it’s up to her? About the time hell starts welcoming polar bears.”
Harrison raises an eyebrow, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips as he sets the bottle down. “And if you have your way?”
My wide grin answers for me.
Yawning, I jab the elevator button and slump against the wall, exhaustion setting in like a lead weight. Harrison and I spent the entire night chasing one irritatingly elusive ghost across the World Wide Web.
We scoured every corner of social media—Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, even the depths of LinkedIn—and came up empty. It’s like she’s vanished into thin air. Or got abducted by aliens .
How the hell does anyone disappear in this day and age?
I even stalked her family, which felt a lot like prying. It reopened a door I’d closed so long ago, I’d forgotten it existed.
Angi’s still pouting for the camera, her Instagram wall packed with selfies. Not a single one with family—no surprise there.
Eomma’s account is a vibrant gallery of food and mystery books. I make a mental note to check out her latest recommendation—an intriguing suspense she swears by.
Her dad’s profile is practically untouched, with a few random memes tossed in—like a picture of him in sunglasses, holding a grill spatula, with the caption: “Grill master by day, meme master by night.”
And Halmeoni’s account? It’s a garden of flowers, from bright pink roses to big, blue balloon flowers. It’s the rich-colored marigolds that make me smile. Jess’s favorites.
And then there’s Colby. My brother in arms. His most recent post is a video of the Statue of Liberty at dusk. It tells me two things: One, his drone maneuvering is as precise as ever. And two, he’s home.
After a split-second debate, I shoot a message to his account.
In NYC? Want to shoot some hoops?
His reply is instant.
Need your ass kicked that bad?
Name the time and place !
I laugh and shoot him the time and address, along with a little note.
Bring it, punk.
The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. Imani is there to greet me, a steaming mug of coffee in her hand, like she’s been waiting just for this moment.
“You’re a godsend,” I say, graciously accepting the cup and taking a sip, letting the warmth chase away some of the morning’s tension.
“I know,” she replies with a warm smile. “It’s why Mark keeps me around. And I got your text. The security team is on the hunt for your watch.”
Her smile falters, and I know what she’s thinking. It’s a long shot, but if anyone can find it, my team can. “Thanks,” I murmur. “And clear my calendar for later this afternoon. I’ve got a meeting with the Herald .”
“Do they know that?”
“Nope.”
Her eyes widen, concern flashing across her face. “Ms. Voss?”
“God, no.”
“Maybe Ms. Sun, then?”
A guilty grin tugs at my lips.
“Ah.” Her expression softens with understanding. “Well, there’s someone waiting in your office.”
That’s never good. “Care to clue me in?”
“Can’t. Sworn to secrecy.”
“Traitor.” I smirk, shaking my head as I walk past her. She giggles as I push open the door.
There, lounging comfortably at my desk—formerly his desk—is Zac.
His size 12s are kicked up, and his beard, that untamed jungle, looks even wilder. A newspaper is sprawled out in front of him. He looks up, amused. “If you wanted me back, you could’ve just asked,” he says, voice dripping with enough sarcasm, I know it can’t be good.
I close the door behind me, hands sliding into my pockets. “What happened?”
“You’re making headlines again.”
I’m not sure I want to know, but I ask the question. “How bad is it?”
“Four—count ’em, one, two, three, four—major accounts have called me this morning alone.” He presses a hand to his ear. “If you listen really hard, you can hear the sound of three hundred million dollars going down the drain.”
Fuck. Mark and Jess nearly canceled their honeymoon when Zac stepped down, and they deserve one uninterrupted month without me crumbling Mark’s empire to shit overnight.
“I’ve already demanded a meeting with Ms. Sydney Sun.” Her response was less than encouraging, but Zac doesn’t need to know that. I’ve already cleared my schedule to drop by her office today.
“This isn’t about Sydney Sun. It’s about Roxana Voss.”
“What?”
“You know, that thing you were supposed to handle? Well, she also called me,” Zac says, tapping his fingers on the desk, his tone a mix of frustration and amusement. “Did you seriously bail on her?”
“I didn’t bail,” I say, straightening my cuff. “Snooki was sick.”
Zac blinks. “You brought Snooki?”
“And the boys,” I admit, rubbing the back of my neck, already regretting where this conversation is headed.
“On a date?”
I point a finger at him. “It wasn’t a date, remember? It was a professional business meeting.”
He deadpans. “You were trying to get out of it, weren’t you?”
I stay silent and admit nothing.
Zac lets out a low chuckle. “And what the hell happened to her purse?”
I can’t help but stifle a grin. “No comment.”
“Well, hell hath no fury like a reporter scorned,” he says, reaching for a newspaper on the desk. He slides it across to me, the headline glaring up at us. “Here she is, handing you your ass on a platter with this mockup and an invitation to quote-unquote chat.”
I pick up the newspaper, my heart sinking as I take in the headline.
Eternal Bachelor & Billionaire F*Boy Destroys An Empire, One Woman at a Time
I snatch up the paper, my eyes narrowing as I skim the headline. “Can she even say that? It’s a public newspaper! ”
Zac shrugs, leaning back with a smirk. “It’s just a mockup. The real thing will probably be so much worse.”
I skim the article, my blood boiling with every line. “The fact that this woman works at any paper is staggering. Misspellings all over the map. Chock full of lies. First off, those insane women who chased me and the kids to the car were not my dates. And second, no matter how she paints me, I am not a fuckboy. Just ask Sydney Sun. She paints me as a hero.”
Which is weird, considering she won’t even talk to me.
“There are no less than three dozen women parked downstairs just waiting to get a glimpse of you.” Zac blinks, then points to the window with a casual wave. “ You know you’re not a fuckboy. And I know you’re not a fuckboy. Mostly because if you were, things would go a hell of a lot smoother with Ms. Voss. But they”—he motions wildly toward the window—“your adoring fans, very much think you are.”
“Can I help it if I’m irresistible man candy?” I mutter under my breath.
Zac rolls his eyes. “Don’t make me gag.”
I pause, letting the weight of the situation settle in before tossing the paper into the trash. “Speaking of gag, what now? Do I sic the lawyers on her with a gag order?”
Zac snorts, shaking his head. “You’ll have better luck gagging her yourself.”
I glance out the window at the sea of bodies below. My hand instinctively smooths over my left wrist, the absence of my watch burrowing an ache deep in my chest.
Dismayed, I shake my head, a tired grin tugging at my lips. “I never thought I’d say this, but I think I need a break from women.” Honestly, it’s not much of a stretch. This dry spell? It’s been dragging on for a while. “Maybe I should have Off Limits tattooed in all caps on my ass.”
Zac sidles up beside me, admiring the crowd below. “Tattoo or get hitched.”
Out of nowhere, an image of a feisty, dark-haired beauty with full lips and a fire in her eyes flashes through my mind. A woman who despises me with every fiber of her being. “I’ll fix it.”
“How?” He pats my back. “By going cold turkey?”
“Yup.”