Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
gunner
I watch marlowe head back toward the house, her dark hair gleaming under the moon before she disappears into the shadows. She said she’s going to bed. What I wouldn’t give to join her.
“Gunner.” Laurene cups my cheek in her hand, forcing me to meet her angry gaze. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
“I don’t know,” I murmur. “Is there?”
Her eyes narrow sharply. “What the hell is going on between you and Marlowe? Are you sleeping with her?”
“No.”
“But you want to,” she hisses accusingly. “It’s so damn obvious you want to fuck her.”
I don’t deny it. What would be the point?
“Unbelievable!” Laurene shrieks, jabbing her finger into my chest. “It’s only been a month since we broke up, Gunner. One fucking month! ”
I grab her hand before she can poke me again. “You need to calm down,” I bite out. “ You’re the one who ended things, remember?”
“Because you were neglecting me!” she yells in my face. “All you cared about was your precious company! You never had any time for me!”
“That’s not true,” I growl. “You wanted every second of my time. The more I gave, the more you demanded. It was never enough for you and you know it.”
She yanks her hand from mine, her chin quivering like a petulant little girl’s. “Why didn’t you invite me to the party tonight? Why did I have to hear about it from other people?”
I frown. “We’re not together anymore?—”
“I know that,” she snaps. “You don’t have to keep reminding me.”
I shake my head at her. “What do you want from me, Laurene?”
“I want you to tell me that you’ve missed me as much as I’ve missed you. I want you to admit that I’m perfect for you and we belong together.”
I silently regard her. She’s gorgeous, wealthy and well connected. As the daughter of a hotel magnate, she’s my natural counterpart—the kind of woman I’m supposed to end up with. I care for her. I wouldn’t have proposed if I didn’t. But right now, standing before her, I don’t say the words she wants to hear.
I can’t.
And that’s pretty damning.
She stares at me, her eyes narrowed and accusing. “I know what this is about. You’re punishing me.”
I frown. “What’re you talking about?”
“You’re punishing me for breaking up with you.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are!”
“ No. I’m not.” I rake a hand through my hair and blow out a hard breath. “Look, this isn’t a good time. I have guests?—”
“That didn’t stop you from following your little maid down here for a moonlit tryst.” Laurene sneers at me. “Were you watching her the whole time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to sneak off after her?”
“I’m not having this discussion,” I say through gritted teeth. “I’m going back to the party. You can stay here or come back with me. It’s up to you, but I’m leaving.”
She makes a huffing noise and stomps after me, her arms folded mutinously across her chest. We don’t exchange another word until we reach the party. Couples are dancing under the stars, swirling and laughing like a scene out of The Great Gatsby .
Trying to smooth things over, I ask Laurene to dance.
“I’m going to powder my nose.” She flounces off, still sulking.
As if on cue, a server approaches with a tray full of glasses and a bottle of Glenfiddich. “Whiskey, Mr. Ransom?”
“Hell, yes.”
He pours me a glass and hands it to me. I take a deep, grateful swig as my brother comes sauntering over, a knowing grin on his face.
“Rough night?”
“Fuck off,” I grumble.
He laughs. “You mean having your ex and your new plaything at the same party wasn’t a good idea? Shocker.”
I shoot him an annoyed glare. “Marlowe’s not my plaything.”
“I agree. She clearly means more to you than that.” Maverick searches my face in that unnerving way of his. “Why didn’t you tell me she’s working for you?”
“I didn’t realize I had to make an announcement every time I hire a new housekeeper.”
“Bullshit,” Maverick scoffs, grinning. “You’ve been obsessing over that woman since the night you met her. The fact that you secretly gave her a job is a big deal, and you know it.”
I merely grunt and down more whiskey.
Maverick stands beside me watching the dancing crowd. “Why would you invite Laurene?—”
“I didn’t. She invited herself.”
“Of course she did.” Maverick chuckles dryly. “I see it didn’t take her long to zero in on her competition. Which is no surprise, given the way you were blatantly eye-fucking Marlowe. Jesus, Gunn. You’re in even worse shape than I thought.”
My gut tightens at his words, but I don’t bother contradicting him. He’s right. I am in bad shape. I threw a whole dinner party just to prevent Marlowe from going out with another man. If that’s not pathetic, I don’t know what is.
Maverick grins sideways at me. “Did you really impersonate her date that night?”
I scowl at him, and he laughs.
“Holy shit, bro. What the hell?”
“It wasn’t one of my finest moments,” I mutter.
“Clearly.” Maverick chuckles and shakes his head. “She’s a real firecracker. After the shitty stunt you pulled, you’re lucky she agreed to come work for you. We both know her talents would be better served elsewhere.”
I grunt agreement and knock back the rest of my drink. In my mind’s eye, I can still see Marlowe playing the piano, as hauntingly beautiful as a painting. The image is seared into my brain, probably forever.
My brother studies me for a few seconds before speaking again. “You’ve always had a rule about not sleeping with employees. Hell, just to play it safe, you even hired a lesbian as your assistant.”
I scowl. “Veronica’s sexual orientation had nothing to do with her getting the job.”
“Maybe not. But it’s sure as hell easier to avoid temptation if your hot assistant isn’t into dudes. The point is, since Dad banged every secretary he ever had, you swore you’d never be like him. Has that changed?”
My hand flexes around my empty glass. “No.”
Maverick is silent, but I know he doesn’t believe me. I don’t blame him. Hiring Marlowe clearly conflicts with my rule against mixing business with pleasure. I knew that when I offered her the job, but it didn’t matter. I wanted her here with me, and nothing was going to stop me from making it happen.
“So now that you’ve got her under your roof,” Maverick drawls, “what’re you going to do about Laurene?”
I exhale a heavy breath. “I don’t know.”
“I think you do.”
In silence I watch Laurene emerge from the house, every strand of hair tucked into place, makeup flawless. She glides through the crowd, smiling and tinkling with laughter, supremely aware of the heads that turn as she passes.
She’s stunning. Dazzling. The belle of the ball.
And I’ve never wanted her less than I do at that very moment.
It’s not her fault, really. She’s the same woman I proposed to seven months ago. She hasn’t changed in any way.
But there’s only one woman I want right now, and no one else will do.