45. Brogan
MANHATTAN, NEW YORK
FOUR MONTHS EARLIER
I’d arrived at the restaurant on time, but I couldn’t say the same about my dinner date.
That very word caused a sour taste in my mouth, and it only grew more bitter as I waited for Layla like some fucking patsy.
As it were, she was more than fifteen minutes late, and maybe had decided not to grace me with her unpleasant presence tonight after all.
If nothing else, I could eat my meal in peace.
I was waiting on my fiancée. That title was also a joke, as marrying her was the last thing I wanted to do.
She’d never be that, even though to everyone around us, that was exactly what she was.
Our photographs and engagement announcement had been splashed around the society pages so fucking often it was nauseating.
Nothing made me sicker than knowing she was tagging me in all of her damn social media posts.
Usually, I paid her no attention and had my tags turned off, but she still came to my place to stage those posts.
She even had stupid captions and hashtags.
And while I let those wash off my shoulders, I knew they’d upset Declan oftentimes, but he knew how fake everything about Layla and me was.
In those staged photos, I normally didn’t even acknowledge her presence.
He knew it, but I understood. This wasn’t the same as his acting.
That was his career, although marrying her would help me save mine.
Only, I dared my father to try to rip Sinclair Pharmaceuticals away from me just because I didn’t marry his best friend’s only daughter.
In fact, tonight was the night when I’d finally put my foot down and tell her I didn't want to go through with this marriage.
I also didn't want to go through with the fertility treatments, but not because I didn't want to have children one day. I did, but I didn't want to have any with her. That’d be yet another thing for my father to get pissed off about, but he’d get over it.
I’d earned the right to make my own decisions regarding my life, and I deserved to find my own happiness.
It didn’t matter that it wasn’t with who he thought I should be with.
I didn't have to be with a woman just to have a child with one. I could still be happy with Declan and have an heir, and that was exactly what I planned to do. Tonight would be the start of me putting my wants and needs ahead of Stanley Sinclair’s.
I sipped on my drink, then picked back up the menu.
I already knew what I was going to have tonight.
A creature of habit, I always chose the same thing.
The only spontaneous things I ever did included Declan.
When it came to meals with my father, Layla, or other social or business acquaintances, everything was done a specific way.
I picked my glass back up and brought it to my lips, finishing off what was left.
The few ice cubes clinked around when I set it in the middle of the table, then motioned to the bartender for another.
Twenty minutes had now elapsed, and it looked like I was going to get to enjoy a meal in peace for a change.
Or so I thought. Right after, I watched the blonde rush in and stop at the hostess stand to ask where I was.
After being pointed in my direction, she slowed her steps as she approached the table.
Layla’s mini dress was a pink blazer with large gold buttons going from her neck, through the center of, and just under, her cleavage.
My eyes raked down her body, past her mile-long legs to the gold Valentino heels in the same hue as those large buttons.
Layla Harte was beautiful. Even I couldn’t deny that.
From her flawless skin and perfectly made-up hair and face to a body that could stop traffic.
I'd be blind not to notice that; however, everything else about her was superficial. Her attitude and personality sucked. Even the fake tone of her voice grated on me so much that I could never imagine bedding her. And it wasn’t just because I had Declan, either.
As she took her seat, she did as she’d been trained to do, which was to daintily cross her legs and place her napkin onto her lap to cover what was now mostly bare legs because her dress had ridden up on hers.
“You're late,” I said.
“My nail appointment ran over, then there was a lot of traffic.”
“It's always something,” I muttered.
She pursed her lips at me, then smiled. “Oh, were you anxiously awaiting my company? I never thought I’d live to see the day.” When I stared impassively at her, she rolled her cerulean eyes. “Cut the shit, Brogan. We both know you hate being around me.”
“Hate is a strong word,” I told her, although it was pretty accurate most days. And by most days, I meant all the ones ending in “Y.”
“I need to talk to you about something,” she told me.
This time, my lips thinned and my eyes narrowed because I suspected that I already knew what she was going to ask for. “I'm not giving you any more money, Layla.”
“Is that all you think I’m here for? That I’d honestly subject myself to your brooding for some cash. And don’t answer that because I don't need that from you.”
“Since when?”
“Since doesn't matter. I just don't want your fucking money anymore. Okay?”
“Fine by me,” I replied. I wasn’t sure what had changed since she’d nickel-and-dimed the hell out of me when we’d made the agreement.
At the moment, she was given a specific amount of cash as long as we were engaged, and once we got married, the amount she’d get to spend weekly would increase.
And it really fucking sucked, because I was paying someone to tether themselves to me, when I didn’t want to be anywhere around her.
I’d not just lose my soul by marrying her, but I’d have sold it to do so.
She fidgeted slightly but smiled brightly at a passing waiter. “A vodka, please.”
“Drinking the hard stuff tonight?” I asked, especially since she was a complete lightweight and would normally fuss over weaker girly drinks that had more sugar than alcohol in them. But tonight, she’d chosen a shot of vodka instead.
“What's wrong?”
“Why does anything have to be wrong, Brogan? Can't a girl just drink because she's had a hard day?”
“I bet it's hard spending my money while living it up at the spa before rushing over here in the sports car I paid for, just to have dinner on me at one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city.”
“You don't always have to throw everything up in my face.”
I shrugged because she was right about me not needing to, but she made it so easy.
“Why was your day so hard?” I asked, not that I really gave a damn, but I just wanted to see what her answer would be.
“It's nothing you’d understand.”
“Already keeping secrets from me?” I asked in a mocking tone.
“Like you don’t keep secrets yourself,” she spat out.
I leaned back in my seat and smirked. “Not from you, Layla. You’re fully aware of who I’m doing. The question is who have you been doing?”
“What are you talking about?”
“The third button on your dress… It's not lined up correctly. You must’ve been in a hurry to get dressed.” She looked down, and I could see how flustered she became.
Never one to leave a hair out of place when in public, she turned and quickly fixed the button.
Layla then plastered a smile back on her face.
Both of our drinks arrived, and she quickly slammed back her shot.
“I really did need to talk to you.”
“Well, I've been sitting here for almost half an hour. I'm hungry. Can we table this until after I eat?”
“Fine,” she let out between sighs.
When the waiter returned, I went ahead and ordered my normal selection while she settled with a salad. “You’re eating light tonight. I'm assuming you didn't get much cardio in today. He must’ve just bent you over instead.”
“You're such an asshole, Brogan. Why are you always so vulgar?”
I leaned in close to her and dropped my voice to a near whisper. “Vulgar would be me describing how my lover cried out my name as I split his ass open. It’d also possibly be how I’d watched my cum drip from his ass before pushing it back inside of him.”
Her eyes widened slightly, then she rolled them. “Why are you always like this? Don’t you know I’m a lady—”
“You’re more of a dirty whore,” I responded, knowing she’d been fucking several men the entire time we’d fake-courted and been in this farce of an engagement. “Additionally, you're a bitch.”
“Why do we always do this, Brogan? The two of us can't get along at all. We're like oil and water. At this point, I sometimes even wonder why I even bother—”
“Cha-ching,” I cut her off. Layla almost made a retort, but the waiter arrived with our salads, even though my main course would be coming soon. Remembering that, I dropped my attitude. “We can talk after we eat. I just wanna get through this meal without you turning my stomach.”
Layla picked at her salad, eating a few bites here and there but mainly just moving it around her plate.
I finished off my salad and soup, then most of my lobster tail and pasta.
When done, we’d declined dessert, and I figured this was as good a time as any to see what she’d asked me to dinner tonight for. “Out with it,” I said to her.
“I've been thinking that this agreement wasn't and isn't in the best interest for us.”
“You think?” I asked sarcastically. This was something I’d known since the beginning when my father forced my hand by holding Sinclair Pharmaceuticals over my head. “You know if you walk away, you forfeit the rest of the money we’d agreed upon.”
“I'm really tired of you treating me like some gold-digging whore.”
“Are you not one? I recall you clearly trying to seduce me so you could blackmail me into financing your life.”
“I didn't know you were with him,” she replied, not that it would’ve mattered. “If you’re willing to release me from the agreement, I’ll have my lawyer draw up a dissolution.”
The fact that she offered to have her attorney do the paperwork made this even better.
I didn't even have to bother mine with it, especially because I knew he’d run straight back to my father.
I could already hear his words in my head.
He’d threaten me by saying he’d have me removed from the board and my role at the company I’d rightfully inherited.
And a company which was now bringing in bigger profits than he had in his last four years combined.
I had innovative ideas, and I was working on drugs that would potentially change people's lives, instead of just numbing them to everything in it.
My father would never see the work that I did, because he didn't care.
All he cared about was that the Sinclair name lived on in infamy, and that I presented myself as his clone.
I’d never be him because I’d hated him with a passion my entire life.
It’d actually been the reason he’d ridden me so much and wouldn’t back off to let me live the life I wanted to live.
This marriage was supposed to be the buffer to hold him at bay, but I certainly wasn’t going to beg her to stay engaged.
I didn't know why she’d suddenly decided to change her mind.
It was possible that she’d had a moment of clarity and realized the two of us would never amount to anything.
For all I knew, one of the many men that she’d been seeing was willing to give her everything I wasn't, and if so, more power to him.
“I’ve kept your secret all this time,” she told me. “Contest this, and I’ll run and tell everybody what you've been doing.”
I reached for Layla’s hand, surprising her with the tenderness in which I gripped it. Right after, I pulled her close to me. When our faces were nearly nose-to-nose, I let out a low growl. “I wouldn't advise threatening me, Layla. It's not going to get you what you want.”
“You don't even know what it is that I want.”
“And I don’t give a fuck. You want out, I’ll let you out. Have the papers sent to me tomorrow.”
“I will, but only if you promise you’ll leave me alone. I want you to let me go.”
I released her hand from mine and leaned back in my seat. “I don't take well to being threatened, especially by the likes of you.”
“But there’s nothing you can do about it because you’re harboring a huge secret that would blow up not only your world, but loverboy’s as well.
It’d be a shame if it ever got out.” She was the one smirking now as my blood began to boil in my veins.
“You'd ruin your career, and also his. Little ole me could bring two powerful men to their knees. Who would’ve ever thought that?”
“Don't test me, Layla, especially with my patience, which you're greatly testing at the moment.”
She smiled sweetly. “I think we're done here.”
“We’re done completely.”
“Great, now be a good boy and walk me out of this place for appearances’ sake. After, we can go our separate ways and never have to lay eyes on one another again.”
“I’d much rather slit your throat and leave you here in the corner,” I mumbled and she let out a small laugh. “Let’s fucking go,” I said more loudly.
She ran to the powder room as I settled the tab, and when she returned, Layla grabbed her purse and let me usher her out of the restaurant. We’d no sooner hit the sidewalk when she turned and waved. “Have a nice life. Just remember that I can end it at any time.”
I narrowed my eyes at her, but she hurried over to the valet to get her car. I went to the other desk for my own, and minutes later I saw her car race down the street, but I didn’t feel free.