Chapter 22 – Grant
I t’s about damn time…
“How’s the arrangement going?” Dean asks, quietly but teasingly.
“Hush, you.”
“I never would’ve expected you to become an art lover unless it was an investment opportunity.”
The remark goes unanswered but I’m wondering about that, too. Since when have I ever thrown money away on sentimental passions?
“She’s lovely, Grant, but… I recognize her,” Anthony adds, slowly.
All my protective instincts rise up. “Where I met Daisy is not something I’m sharing with the general public.” I don’t want anyone making a thing of the billionaire and the cleaning girl – it’s too cliched by far – but I feel even more driven to protect Daisy from any unkind gossip about her past. “You can rest assured no advantage was taken while she was an employee.” No real advantage has been taken of her as my wife either because I am an idiot.
“I wasn’t suggesting you would do that. You’re far more gentlemanly than I’ve ever claimed to be. Just ask Grace,” Anthony says, wryly. What the fuck does that mean?
“Well, I wish you the best, Mr. Barclay, but it’s my duty to warn you Callie feels protective of your wife.”
I give Sokolov a nod. He’s not nearly as bad as I would’ve expected based on when Callie lived in fear of him finding out about her son/his blood nephew. “Daisy has mentioned Callie’s kindness and I appreciate that greatly but I assure you I feel extremely protective of her as well.”
More and more so. The things she revealed to me the other day, I can’t stop thinking about. And, the way I’ve called her a trophy wife and a charlatan, I can’t forgive myself for that. She’s a sweet girl and I’ve only looked at her sweetness with suspicion, making the same assumptions about her as my grandparents made about my mother.
“How did you come to pop the question so soon with Daisy?” Samuel asks quietly while the others are pouring another glass. “Last year, you had mentioned there were some conditions with your grandfather’s will.”
Glaring at my partner, I take a slow sip of my scotch. I forgot how much I’d ranted about that when I’d first found out. “I didn’t propose because she’s pregnant if that’s what you’re hinting at, Adams. She’s not.” How could she be pregnant when I’ve not slept with her?
His lips twitch, the smug prick. “I was not suggesting that and I apologize for my question.” His wife was pregnant before they said ‘I do’ but I can’t help feeling he knows more than I’d like. And, I’ve never had the desire to punch him until now.
But, with a glance at my wife who’s busy talking to his, the feeling fades. I can only admire my pretty Daisy. She’s gorgeous, sexy beyond words in that flowing blue-green gown. Her eyes meet mine and her skin is suddenly painted with a blush, my sweet Goldilocks who I intend to take home with me tonight. What we’ll do there is up to her but I’m tired of denying her and myself.
Perhaps if you kissed your wife…
Her softly spoken words from earlier ring in my ears once more. I’ve seen her naked. I’ve watched her come (sadly, only via a video call.) I’ve touched one of her perfect breasts. But I’ve never once kissed her. A tragedy. A failure of epic proportions.
“Another round, gentlemen?” Dean asks, holding up the bottle.
The others agree but I don’t partake. One shot and a glass of champagne is enough for tonight.
Taking a moment to pull him aside, I ask Jameson about progress on the task I’ve begged for help with. “He passed away a year ago.”
“Good. I guess.” My eyes seek my wife once more but she’s over near the bar with Tabitha and Remi now. I wanted to see her step-father suffer for what he did but dead works just as well.
“The sister’s boyfriend is a piece of work. Shouldn’t be so difficult to find out everything there is to know about him,” Jameson adds.
He’ll be dealt with. I just want to ensure that I don’t hurt Daisy’s sister when I hurt her boyfriend. I’m not sure Daisy would appreciate that. The con artist that swindled Mimi is on Jameson’s radar, too. They’ll both regret ever hurting them.
I’m lost in my vengeful thoughts when Jameson speaks again. “Your kid brother needs to find his own woman instead of lingering around ours at these events, Culver.”
“Relax, Reynolds. They’re just friends. Liam knows to steer clear of Kiara that way.”
“God help him if he ever dares forget it,” Samuel says, grinning at Jameson’s thunderous look.
Anthony and Ezra chuckle at that but Dean’s younger brother is notorious for his flirty manners and playboy-level of bed hopping. He’s years younger than any of us and, as part owner of San Francisco’s most exclusive sex club, he’s even more free-spirited than his surfer-dude brother.
“Jameson has nothing to fret about. My sister is hopelessly in love with her ‘old man,’” Anthony says with assurance.
I’m surprised he’s not snarling over Liam being within five feet of Grace. Perhaps getting her pregnant has finally toned down Anthony’s over-the-top possessiveness.
“Did that fucker just put his hand on Grace’s baby bump?!”
Never mind.
As Anthony strides over to claim his wife for a dance, giving Liam a death glare he’s oblivious to, I’m thinking of my own wife. Daisy may not love me but she is my wife and she’s promised to be faithful. To me and her pink silicone friend. She doesn’t know it yet but Max’s days are numbered. She also demands the freedom to have a say in what happens between us, something I won’t fail to respect going forward even if it may ultimately make it harder to let her go when this is over.
But, when Tabitha introduces her brother-in-law to Daisy as they return from the bar, all my jealous senses are on red alert. Both ladies are holding some ludicrous milkshake drink with a peppermint stick sticking out of the top. She smelled like a boozy candy cane the last time I saw her at home come to think of it. I should’ve tasted her that day instead of running away.
Liam says something that makes her laugh. Have I ever made Daisy laugh? I think so but now I can’t remember because there’s this enormous wave of wrath and jealousy swamping every noble feeling I’ve ever had. What’s this asshole’s deal anyway? Why doesn’t he find his own woman instead of pestering ours? Why am I so goddamn jealous of Liam Culver for simply speaking to my wife?
The camel’s back is broken by a literal straw a few seconds later. Liam gestures toward Daisy’s drink. She shrugs, nods, passes it to him and the dead man in black-tie takes a sip, his lips closing over the same straw where my wife’s were a moment ago.
All I can think about is the fact I’ve never kissed my wife and his lips have just touched the place where hers have. Isn’t it about damn time you kissed her, you fool? Yes, it is. All other rational thoughts vanish in a haze of furious static when I stalk their way.