Chapter Twenty. Rowan #2
“Interesting, seeing as how Rhett informed me he already had the council seat in the bag. I figured you were the ones who helped bribe whoever needed to be bribed.”
My mom guffaws and swats a playful hand on my shoulder that I know is more for show than anything.
With a smile plastered on her face, she leans in and says, “I suggest you watch your tongue as we would do no such thing. We are upstanding citizens of this town and only want the best for it.”
Seems I’m not the only one lying tonight.
“Just as I only want the best for something our grandparents built all those years ago,” I say in rebuttal. “The two of us sharing responsibility isn’t a bad thing.”
“That’s not what your great-great-grandfather would have wanted. That’s not how he set the company up,” my mom continues.
“He also lived during a time when women couldn’t vote, so that might explain things a bit.”
“We made our decision years ago to follow his protocol,” my father says, stepping between us and startling me. I was so focused on my mother, I hadn’t seen him walk up.
“Father,” I say with a cordial nod and a strained smile.
He leans forward, presses a kiss to my cheek, and rests a hand on my lower back. “For the record, Gran agreed. To sticking with the protocol, that is.”
Probably because she had no choice. “Well, Rhett changed that protocol when he went and sold it to an outsider. Talk to him.” I shrug.
“Not necessary. Precedent is set,” he says.
“Then take it up with Holden Knight,” I counter. He stares at me, his teeth gritted and hand tensing where it rests against me.
Someone isn’t as thrilled with this deal as he let on.
“Rupert, dear,” my mom says and squeezes his hand. “Please don’t upset her now. Stress causes eating and puffiness and we can’t have a puffy, bloated bride.”
“Dear God,” I groan.
“Emmaline, the wedding is months away,” my dad says.
“Sixty-four days, to be exact. But don’t you worry about that, Rupert. The last thing we need is to raise your blood pressure any more than it already is. Remember what the doctor said about getting worked up and how that’s not good for your heart.”
“I think Caroline needs me,” I say to try to escape.
“No, she doesn’t. She’s busy with Muffy Newton.” My mom rolls her eyes dramatically. “And Rupert, we don’t have much time. Puffiness is a major concern considering we have a wedding dress appointment in the city slated for two weeks from now.”
Guess I need to add that to my calendar. I doubt the any ol’ dress from my closet will do is going to cut it this time around.
“Chad!” My mom waves him across the patio in a frantic yet giddy display of desperation.
“Momma!” he says boisterously so that the whole patio takes notice of the soon-to-be son-in-law. Of course they do, considering our wedding is now the most talked-about event of the fall. Fucking awesome.
He strides over and kisses my mother’s cheek and shakes my dad’s hand in greeting, before turning to look at me with an awkward smile. “Hi.”
“Hi there,” I say back.
“Oh, don’t be so shy.” My mom shoos her hand our way. “We appreciate the respect you have for Mr. Rothschild and me to not kiss our daughter in front of us—he’s such a gentleman,” she directs to my father, “but son, please go right ahead. A woman loves knowing she’s cherished and adored.”
Before I can utter a response, Chad’s hand is on my lower back and he pulls me in for a soft kiss on the lips.
The moment happens so fast that I don’t have much time to react—and maybe that’s for the best—because I’m more than flustered and then soon thereafter chastising myself for not expecting that was going to have to happen sooner or later.
“Chad.” I gulp over the surprise. Act normal. Act like you’re in love. “Um. Hi.”
“Hi.” He’s breathless but smiling.
In that brief look he gives me, I can see this all going up in flames. Our fake engagement. Him falling hard for me. My parents and the town disowning me.
Every dramatic thing you can imagine flashes through my head.
But I shove it away. I make like I never saw it and plaster a smile on my face to rival all smiles.
“Perfect,” my mom murmurs and claps her hands together as if that one single kiss just solved world peace.
“It is, isn’t it?” Chad says and nuzzles his nose against my cheek in what I hope is a move to perpetuate the lie.
I do my best to play into it, to place my hand on his forearm that’s wrapped around my waist and hold it lovingly.
You can do this.
You can pretend.
It’s just Chad. Just the nice guy you’ve known your whole life.
And I do perfectly fine, making small talk, laughing politely at his lame jokes and my mom’s pushy questions. All is fine with the fake it until you make it portion of the program, but nothing prepares me for the jolt I feel when I look over my mom’s shoulder and see Holden standing in the shadows.
He has his eyes locked on me above the rim of his drink—scotch whiskey, I’m assuming—before he downs it in one full-throated swallow. His eyes never waver from me.
That dull feeling I’ve had all evening? It’s suddenly charged. My skin prickles with anticipation for a later meeting with him that only exists in my mind.
But damn, a girl can hope.
He stays in the shadows for a short while. I find it hard to concentrate on the idle chitchat happening between my parents and Chad when all I want to do is look his way.
The conversation covers honeymoon options before veering to Porter, Rhett’s friend and owner of Greatland, one of our suppliers, and an onsite accident where a worker was hurt.
It goes back to taste-testing our wedding menu and how my mom thinks we should see if a local winery can relabel some of their stock with a more appropriate name like Williams to celebrate our wedding and have served at our reception.
“Emmaline,” my father chastises. “That’s a tad over the top.”
“But this is Westmore’s most anticipated wedding in forever, honey. It’ll be talked about for years. What Rowan wore. How gorgeous the flowers were. Who the guests were. The food. The cake. The wine.” She clutches her hands to her chest. “Just everything. It has to be perfect.”
“And here I was under the impression it was our love that was supposed to take center stage,” I say sarcastically and rest my head gently on Chad’s shoulder. And in doing that, I catch a glimpse of Holden moving toward the side door on the patio into the banquet hall area.
“Of course it is. How could you think otherwise. Rowan, honey—”
“If you’ll excuse me, Caroline really is over there waving to me for help this time.” I look at Chad and then to my parents. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
I take off toward the banquet hall door without waiting for them to respond.
What are you doing, Rowan? Chasing after the man like a little lapdog come to heel?
But there is something so damn addicting about Holden Knight that the thought doesn’t even make me stutter a step.
After the past few weeks and how much he hurt me, shouldn’t that be a warning to me that I should back off some? Shouldn’t that be a lesson that I’m too close to a man who’s proven just how capable he is of breaking my heart?
I pull open the door to find a vacant hallway. Dishes clatter at the far end of it about a hundred feet down where clearly the staff are washing them.
My feet move toward the rectangle of light there. I jump when someone comes out of a door a bit down on my left. The gentleman coughs loudly and then startles when he sees me.
“Miss Rothschild.” The longtime employee of the club nods politely. “I hear congratulations are in order.”
“Thank you, Jerry,” I say with a smile.
“Do you need help with something? I can find someone to help—”
“No. I’m fine. I got turned around and went in the wrong door.”
“Okay. See you back out there, then.”
“Definitely.” I infuse fake cheerfulness into my tone.
I watch him walk back out the door I came in and the minute the door closes at his back, I yelp when my hand is grabbed and I’m pulled into a darkened alcove.
Holden’s hand is on my throat in that seductive, hand-necklace thing he does that makes me feel owned and wanted and desired all at the same time.
“Olly olly oxen free,” he murmurs—a reminder of our sexy game of hide-and-seek—seconds before his lips find mine in a searing kiss that demonstrates every single thing his hand on my throat does.
He knocks me breathless. The taste on his tongue. The demand in his lips. The groan deep in his throat.
When he breaks from the kiss, I try to lean forward and take more but his hand holds me hostage.
“I’m being extremely tolerant with this whole Chad’s hands are on you thing, but fuck if it’s not testing my patience.”
“I guess you’ll have to make sure I don’t remember what his kiss feels like.”
He growls and slants his mouth over mine again. My body arches off the wall, desperate to feel the length of him pressed against me.
“You’re goddamn right I will.”
Our chests are heaving. The pants of our breath are the only sound in the small space along with the clatter of dishes as he rubs his thumb over my bottom lip before stepping back.
“I’ll see you later?” I ask.
He grunts. “Can’t. Meetings. A dinner.”
“Plotting revenge, huh?” I tease.
His smile is a hesitant flicker before it spreads into a drop-dead grin. “Always.”
“Everything okay in here,” a male voice calls out, causing both of us to stiffen and still as feet shuffle down the hall.
“There was a yelp. Did you hear it?” another voice asks.
Holden dips down and presses a searing kiss to my lips before moving out into the hallway. “Sorry. That was me.” He raises his cell up. “Dropped my damn phone.”
“Mr. Knight,” one says at the same time the other says, “Sir,” both clearly in awe of the man walking toward them who is distracting them from seeing me.
“I have horrible luck cracking the screen,” Holden mutters, playing it off.
They make small talk as their voices grow faint while I sag against the wall behind me, reliving the kiss and his words.
Plotting revenge?
Always.
Lord have mercy for whoever he’s plotting against.
That’s one man I wouldn’t want out to get me.
Well, unless it was to twist in his sheets.