Chapter 18 Ankle Biter （Brady）
XVIII
Ankle Biter
(Brady)
I insist on being the one to drop off Queenie at Pawsome Hearts for day care with the other dogs before driving us to the gala.
Honestly, I don’t know why it matters so much.
Luis could’ve done it in a heartbeat.
But with Lena by my side, there’s this weird family feeling in the air. Queenie whines with excitement when she senses where we’re going.
“Hope all this bouncing around isn’t stressing her out.”
“No way. She’s a runner. She’ll have a blast tiring herself out with the other pups,” Lena says, toying with the edge of her dress.
We picked it out this morning before getting ready.
She wanted to pay her own way, and I wouldn’t hear it.
This damn gala’s for my father’s sake—and mine. I won’t have her shouldering the cost for a dress this fancy.
In the end, she went for a navy silk piece from this boutique shop that does its own alterations. The dress fits her like a glove.
Simple and elegant. Timeless. Blue as the summer ocean.
I try to ignore her dabbing on lipstick in the mirror, along with the raging hard-on from hell.
“You look great. Stop worrying,” I tell her.
“I’m not.”
“Bull. I know that look, and I’m telling you to lose it. You look like a smoke show.” I pull up in the clinic’s lot and park. “Stay there. I don’t want your shoes getting dirty.”
“Dude, we’re not at the farm. The lot isn’t that filthy,” she grumbles, but her eyes flick to the building where I’m dropping Queenie off.
It must be weird, having your status change so drastically in front of your longtime coworkers.
Whenever this insanity ends, it’s going to upend her life just as much as mine.
I let Queenie jump out the back, and she immediately tries to go flying to the door before the leash catches in my hand.
The guy manning the kennels runs up to us—a friendly man with red hair and thick glasses. I hand off everything our girl needs for the day, plus bagged meals and a couple new toys, then climb back in the car.
“Let’s go.” I reach over and squeeze Lena’s hand. “Everything will be fine.”
“I hope. The only time you ever say that is when nothing’s fine at all.”
“Ah, but this time.”
“This time,” she echoes.
“You’ll fit right in. Everybody there wants to save the planet and wishes they could fawn all over animals all day.”
Which is why it’s a perfect opportunity to talk up my organic dog food. Whipping up interest and lining up investors and retailers ahead of time certainly can’t hurt.
“I’ve never been to anything this important before,” she says, her voice tight.
“It’s not. Just think of it as a cocktail party full of people who like to flaunt their money and wear their hearts on their sleeves for social brownie points.”
“Pssh. And you said I’d fit right in.”
I smile. “Try not to get too pissed at their egos. The money winds up in good hands at the end of the day, no matter how much they bluster getting it there.”
“Right. I’ll just have to bite my tongue the entire time, I guess.”
“You like me despite the long odds, Sass. You’ll be fine. No one’s going to look at you and think you’re not meant to be there.”
“Especially when I’m on your arm,” she inserts slyly.
“Exactly. Image matters.” I nod at her, and after a second, she relaxes and smiles back. “I promise you everything will be fine.”
Finally, her shoulders slump, and she doesn’t spar with me again before we arrive.
The gala is set up inside this fancy hotel in Bellevue, and it’s clear when we pull up that Lena has never been inside.
I toss the keys to the valet and take her arm.
“Watch your step.”
“Be honest with me, Brady. How awful will this be?”
“No more than a 6.5 on the fire-breathing-pricks-with-too-much-money scale. Meeting my dad will be the hard part, so we’ll try to get that done soon. Then you’ll gorge on finger food and drink some expensive champagne while I do the rest. Enjoy the show.”
“I’ll try. You’ve got people to wow.”
“I know. The champagne helps.” I wink at her to hide my inner thoughts, already spinning like a helicopter blade.
We climb the soaring stairs to the lobby, where a man in a tux greets us with a smile and finds our names on the guest list.
“Mr. Pruitt and Miss Joly,” he says with a rehearsed smile. “Welcome. The gala is just through the doors.”
“No press?” Lena whispers as we stroll through the huge double doors, which have been thrown open wide.
I shake my head.
The hotel is older. This was probably some kind of grand ballroom once, with its huge golden lights spaced at regular intervals on the ceiling and a polished wooden floor underneath.
Now, it’s filled with the cream of Seattle high society, chirping like crickets and flitting around like butterflies.
One big happy dysfunctional family.
Lena stiffens on my arm as the smell of money hits her and the glamour fills her eyes.
I pat her hand, searching for my father in the crowd. That’s the first hurdle of the evening, and I wonder what kind of mood he’ll be in today.
Not one where he’ll see through our deception, I’m sure. He’ll be fending off his own thoughts, hating every sympathetic smile and whispered comment about poor Alec and his health.
I just hope he won’t unload any venom on Lena.
My phone buzzes, and I glance at it, keeping the screen turned away from her.
Luis, timely as always.
Boss, red alert. There’s a rep from Harry Jay’s RE firm. Probably keeping eyes on you.
Fucking hell.
One more problem I don’t need.
No doubt they’re still sore about the way I left him limping home. Maybe they’re spying because they’ve heard about the engagement, too, and they wonder if it’s my money behind Lena’s buyout of Pawsome Hearts.
Plenty of reason to trail us.
And if I’m with Lena, he can assume I also know Harry Jay’s dirty secrets and the history he never should’ve had with her.
The damage that fucknut did still makes my blood churn.
If I had my way, I would’ve chucked his carcass into the Puget Sound weeks ago.
Not exactly elegant, and very illegal, but hell, it would be satisfying.
Instead, I have to be civilized.
I have to settle for revenge by living well—unless he fucks with my woman again.
More than anything, I have to make sure he never has a chance to hurt her.
Never again, even after this contract ends and even if I don’t have a clue how the hell I’ll keep that promise yet.
“You’re texting here?” Lena glances over, nudging me gently with her elbow.
“I’m done. Had to take care of something.” I say the words too fast.
I’ve never been a stellar liar, despite my life in the public eye.
A line appears between her brows as she frowns.
Her eyes skate across my screen, and I turn it away abruptly before she sees anything.
Too slow and too obvious.
Hurt flashes across her face.
Shit.
Let her go nuclear on me later with demands to see my phone, my messages. Later.
Because I really am an idiot at deception.
The lines on her face just deepen as she looks out at the immaculately dressed crowd. It’s like I can feel her swallowing the grim thoughts and questions on her tongue.
I shove my phone back in my pocket before it causes more trouble.
Seconds tick by like molasses, but she doesn’t say a word.
If she knew what I was doing, she’d have every reason to freak. She’s always made it clear that taking her creepy-ex problem into my own hands is off limits.
Still, getting Harry Jay out of her life for good is worth a few white lies.
In the end, she’ll be happier, and I’m fatally addicted to making this girl smile.
Time blurs by as we make the rounds.
And Lena, hugging my arm, demure and beautiful as an angel, looks just as good at this as I knew she’d be.
Only I know her well enough to read the slight strain in her face or notice the way her fingers grip my arm a little too tightly whenever someone looks her up and down with a carnivorous smile.
Especially the older men.
Every time I see that shit, I want to call them out.
But that’s the elite for you, where money entitles wolves to wear their hunger like one more designer tie wrapped around their necks.
Everyone here is curious about this girl who’s finally gotten me to settle down, and who isn’t from their social circle.
Like I said, one big, inbred fucking family.
When you step outside it to date, eyebrows rocket off faces. And the second you step out of line, it’s judgment day.
Watching Lena muddle through it reminds me how much I hate these events.
But if it’s torture, she shows no sign.
This woman is a patient goddess, always calm and smiling.
The customer-facing role she has must’ve hardened her. She has that smile down pat as she listens to strangers prattle on about their lives and overachievements.
She handles people better than the cameras.
Somehow, she always knows when to step back and let me take over.
It helps that we’re surrounded by genuine animal lovers. People stop and listen the second she says animal clinic.
Lena lights up when she talks about her work at Pawsome Hearts. The second she realizes they care—the second she realizes my cynicism was only that—she opens up.
It’s like she bends the room’s gravity, leaving them wanting more.
And when I finally see my father and lead her over to Dad’s perch on the outskirts of the room while he’s deep in conversation with a congressman, her smile doesn’t falter.
He’s scowling, yeah, but that’s typical.
I’m not expecting Lena to untangle her hand from mine and march forward the instant the politician moves on.
“Hi, Mr. Pruitt. Lena Joly,” she says, extending a hand downward to his level in the chair. “Such a pleasure to meet you.”
For a second, he looks past her at me, his eyes glassy and annoyed.
Do not be fucking rude, I warn with a glance.
“Call me Alec, Miss Joly. I’ve heard so much about you.” He takes her hand and shakes it like he means to pull her to the floor.
“Call me Lena.”
With a disinterested grunt, he leans in so they can kiss cheeks, and he nods at her. “How are you finding the crowd?”
“So many interesting people,” she gushes.