Chapter 6
MANDY
Istared at him, wondering if I was still dreaming.
This had to be some kind of champagne-induced hallucination.
Briggs Blackwell was standing in the hallway outside my hotel room, looking decidedly less perfect than he had yesterday.
His hair was still styled, his suit still immaculate, but there was something different about him.
His eyes were a little bloodshot. He looked… hungover?
Good. I hoped he felt like shit.
I put my hands on my hips and glared at him, remembering exactly why I hated this man. “I’ll admit, I like you better when you’re not talking, but is there something I can help you with?”
That seemed to snap him out of whatever daze he’d fallen into. He blinked, straightened his shoulders, and cleared his throat. “I’m here to apologize.”
I waited but he didn’t continue. “Generally an apology comes with words or gifts and your hands are empty.”
“I’m sorry,” he finally said, and to my surprise, he actually seemed sincere.
There was something almost angry in his expression.
I leaned forward to see if Adrian was standing nearby and somehow forcing his brother to say the words.
“I’m sorry for how I acted yesterday. I should have known who you were before I walked into that meeting. It was sloppy of me.”
“Everyone makes mistakes,” I said, though I didn’t mean it as absolution. I was just stating a fact.
“I don’t.” His jaw tightened. “When an attorney makes a mistake, it’s called malpractice. And it’s a whole thing.” He paused, his blue eyes meeting mine. “I’m here to ask if you’ll reconsider working with us.”
I studied him, weighing my options. I could slam the door in his face.
It would feel good, satisfying even. My fingers were itching to do just that.
Or I could hear him out. The deal was good.
I knew it was good. And despite his assholery, the Blackwell name would open doors I’d been trying to kick down for years.
“You can take me to breakfast and talk,” I said finally.
Relief flickered across his features. “Of course. Where would you like to go?”
“Give me fifteen minutes. And Briggs? This doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you. This means you get a chance to convince me you’re not a complete waste of my time.”
I stepped back and gestured for him to come into my hotel room.
Briggs Blackwell was in my hotel room. That is not a sentence I ever thought I would say.
I shook off the fluttery feelings and walked to the bathroom where I was just about to get dressed.
My outfit was hanging on the back door. Makeup on the counter.
I shut the door and leaned against it, my heart racing. What the hell was I doing? I should be getting ready for my flight to Vegas right now, putting this disaster behind me. Instead, I was about to have breakfast with the man who’d humiliated me yesterday.
And I was going to look good doing it.
I dropped the robe and pulled on the jeans and silk blouse I’d laid out.
Black skinny jeans, a pink blouse with a subtle ruffle at the neckline.
The blouse hung low enough to cover my ass in the jeans.
Casual but polished. I wasn’t planning on another business meeting and didn’t pack a second outfit.
My jeans would have to be enough. I dabbed on some tinted moisturizer, mascara, a little blush.
My hair was still damp, so I worked some product through it and let it air-dry into soft waves.
I slipped on my sandals with a sensible heel and sparkling pink straps.
When I emerged from the bathroom, I found Briggs standing awkwardly in the middle of my hotel room.
He looked comically out of place among the mess I’d created.
My suitcase was open on the luggage stand, clothes spilling out.
My satin pillowcases I traveled with were still on the hotel pillows.
My essential oil diffuser was on the nightstand, filling the room with lavender.
His gaze landed on the three candles I’d arranged on the desk, all lit despite the morning sun streaming through the windows.
“Did you seriously bring your own candles to a hotel?” he asked, his tone somewhere between bewildered and amused.
“Yes.” I grabbed my purse from the chair. “I like my spaces to feel like home. Is that a problem?”
“No.” He picked up one of the candles, examining it. “Eucalyptus mint.”
“It’s calming.”
“You brought calming candles to a hotel room?”
“I brought calming candles because I travel for work constantly and hotel rooms are depressing.” I snatched the candle from his hand and set it back on the desk. “Are we doing this or not?”
He gestured toward the door. “After you.”
I blew out the candles, grabbed my key card, and walked past him into the hallway. He followed, and I was acutely aware of his presence behind me.
In the elevator, I snuck a glance at him. He was staring straight ahead, jaw tight, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. Good. This wasn’t supposed to be comfortable for him.
“There’s a place two blocks from here,” he said as we stepped into the lobby. “Good coffee, great food.”
“Let’s go.”
We walked in silence, weaving through the morning crowds. His long stride forced me to walk a little faster to keep up. That was the only reason my heart was racing. It had nothing to do with Briggs.
He opened the door to the restaurant and allowed me to enter first. Maybe he was a gentleman.
“Two,” he told the hostess, who took one look at him and immediately grabbed menus.
“Right this way, Mr. Blackwell.”
Of course she knew who he was. We were seated immediately at the best table in the house, tucked into a corner with a view of the street but away from the noise.
I sat in my chair with him across from me, his long legs bumping mine under the table. He shifted, putting distance between us.
The waitress appeared with water. I ordered a latte. He ordered black coffee and downed half his water in one go.
“Rough night?” I asked sweetly.
“Something like that.”
“Good.”
His lips twitched. “You’re not going to make this easy on me.”
“Why should I?” I leaned back, crossing my arms. “You insulted me in front of my business partners. You questioned my value before you even knew who I was. You made me feel small, and I don’t do small, Mr. Blackwell. Not anymore.”
“You’re right. I made assumptions I shouldn’t have made. I walked into that room with a bias, and I let it dictate my behavior. That’s on me.”
I waited, but he didn’t continue.
“That’s it?” I asked. “That’s your apology?”
“I already apologized.”
“You said you were sorry. You didn’t explain why.”
He rubbed his temple, wincing slightly. Definitely hungover. “I don’t usually explain myself.”
“Well, today you do.”
I scanned the menu. “Oh, bottomless mimosas.”
He groaned. “No.”
I looked up and noticed he looked a little gray. “Hair of the dog.”
“No.”
“I had a bottle of champagne last night but I’m not crying about it,” I said with a shrug.
“Congratulations. You tolerate your liquor better than I do. Maybe you should add that to your list of accomplishments.”
I laughed, completely unbothered. “I spend my days taste-testing wine and champagne. I drink champagne to blend in. I suppose my tolerance might be a little high.”
When the waiter returned, I ordered eggs benedict, and because I wasn’t completely immune to the champagne hangover, I skipped the mimosa and ordered an iced tea. Briggs ordered enough food to feed an army.
“Yep, that’ll cure a hangover,” I teased after the waiter left.
“I fucking hope so.”
“Alright, back to your apology. Make it good.”
He looked up at me. “I protect my family’s interests.
That’s my job. When I saw your name on the contract and didn’t recognize it, I assumed you were someone trying to leverage Cleo and Callum’s connection to the Blackwell name.
I see it all the time—people who want a piece of what we’ve built without putting in the work.
I was wrong about you. Spectacularly wrong. And I’m sorry.”
It wasn’t a perfect apology, but it was honest. And honesty, I could work with.
“Why should I give you another chance?” I asked.
“Because the deal is good,” he said simply.
“Because you know it’s good, or you wouldn’t have flown out here in the first place.
Because Cleo and Callum want this, and so does Adrian.
And because despite my mishandling of yesterday, I’m actually very good at what I do.
You won’t find a better attorney to structure a partnership like this. ”
“Modest, too.”
“I don’t do false modesty. It wastes time.”
I laughed despite myself. “You’re kind of an asshole, you know that?”
“I’ve been told.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
He considered the question. “I’m effective. People don’t always like effective.”
“Or maybe you’re just difficult.”
“Maybe.” He took a sip of his coffee. Whatever fog he’d been in earlier was lifting. “But I get results. And I don’t make the same mistake twice.”
Our food arrived. I cut into my eggs, watching the yolk spill across the muffin. Perfect. I took a bite, considering my options.
Briggs dug into his eggs and hashbrowns.
“What’s your role in all this?” I asked.
“I make sure everyone’s protected. Handle the legal side of the partnership.”
“So I’d be working with you.”
“Among others. But yes, you’d be working with me.” He shrugged. “I also own a quarter of the company, so I’m involved in non-legal stuff too.”
I took another bite of my toast, chewing slowly. “Here’s the thing, Briggs. I don’t work with people I don’t trust. And right now, I don’t trust you.”
He didn’t flinch. “What would it take?”
“Proof that you actually respect what I do. And an understanding that if you ever speak to me the way you did yesterday again, I walk. No negotiation, no second chances. I walk.”
“Fair.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.” He met my gaze. “I made a mistake. I own it. It won’t happen again.”
I wanted to believe him. God help me, I actually wanted to believe him. He had honest eyes. Or maybe it was just that I wanted this deal as much as he did.
“I have conditions,” I said.
“Name them.”
“You need to come to Vegas tomorrow,” I said and popped another bite in my mouth.
He frowned. “What?”
“The Nelson wedding. You’re going to come, observe what I actually do, and then you’ll understand why I’m an equal partner in this deal.”
“That’s not necessary,” he said quickly. “I get it.”
“You don’t know what I do,” I interrupted. “Not really. You read it on paper, heard Adrian’s pitch, but you still don’t get it. And I’m not signing anything with someone who thinks I’m dead weight being carried by the Blackwell name.”
His jaw tightened. “I don’t think that.”
“You did yesterday.”
“Yesterday I was confused.”
“Yesterday you were an asshole. We’ve established that.
” I set down my fork and leaned forward.
“Here’s the deal, Briggs. You come to Vegas.
You see what I actually do. You watch me work.
And then, when you can honestly tell me you understand my value in this partnership, we’ll talk about signing papers. ”
“I have a full schedule tomorrow.”
“So do I. I’m running a three-hundred-person wedding with a budget that would make your head spin. Clear your schedule.”
He stared at me. I could practically see him running through his options. He could refuse and lose the deal entirely. Or he could agree and spend a day in Vegas at a wedding for two people he’d never met.
“Fine,” he said finally. “I’ll be there.”
“Really?” I hadn’t actually expected him to agree so easily.
“You’re not going to sign otherwise, are you?”
“Nope.”
We finished breakfast in relative silence, though I caught him watching me a few times when he thought I wasn’t looking. I wondered what he was thinking, if he was already regretting agreeing to come to Vegas.
When the check came, he grabbed it before I could even reach for my purse.
“I can pay for my own breakfast,” I said.
“I’m aware. But I’m the one who begged for forgiveness and your price was breakfast.”
He signed the receipt and stood, and I followed him out onto the street. The morning had warmed up, and the sidewalk was crowded with people in a hurry.
“I’ll walk you,” he said.
“That’s not necessary.”
“I know.” But he fell into step beside me anyway. I didn’t argue.
When we reached the hotel, I stopped at the entrance and turned to face him. He was taller than I’d realized yesterday, probably six-two or six-three. I had to tilt my head back to look at him properly.
“Thank you for breakfast,” I said. “And for the apology.”
“Thank you for giving me another chance.”
“Don’t make me regret it.”
“I won’t.”
“Goodbye, Briggs.”
I walked inside and that’s when I let the grin spread across my face. He wasn’t so bad. Still arrogant and stupid sexy, but I could work with that.
It all depended on how the wedding went.