Chapter 7
brIGGS
The apology had gone better than expected. I was going to ignore the part where my brain short circuited at the sight of her in a bathrobe. The important thing was that by the time we’d finished breakfast, we were all good. Mostly.
What was less good was that I now needed to figure out what to wear to a celebrity wedding in Vegas. If there was a fucking Elvis there, I was going to personally shred the contract.
But as I stood in my closet staring at the neat rows of black and various shades of gray, I realized I had a problem. I dressed for work. People recognized my power and confidence when I stepped into a room in one of my suits.
But a wedding was not a boardroom or a courtroom. I didn’t want to look like an attorney.
So, I had to admit defeat and call the two assholes that knew a little something about fashion. I was representing the Blackwell name. I couldn’t show up in something that made us look bad.
Dash and Sebastian arrived together. Bernadette was working, and Adrian, well, I wasn’t asking him. He was on Daddy Duty.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Dash said when I led him to my closet.
Sebastian walked in and let out a low whistle.
“What?” I said.
“This.” Dash gestured at the closet in its entirety. “All of this.”
“Those are my clothes.”
Dash shook his head. “These are not clothes, Briggs. This is gray hell. I had no idea there were so many shades of blah.”
I leaned against the doorframe and looked at my closet, trying to see it through their eyes.
It was organized, which I considered a feature.
Navy, charcoal, grey, black, with a small section of lighter options for summer.
Lighter as in stark white. Shirts in white and pale blue. Ties in muted patterns.
“There’s nothing wrong with my wardrobe,” I said.
“Name one thing in here that you chose yourself,” Sebastian said.
I frowned. “All of it.”
“No, you have a personal shopper,” he said.
“I have Annika,” I said. “She knows how to dress me. I should have called her, now that I think about it.”
Annika had been dressing the Blackwell men for twenty years. She had selected, fitted, and organized virtually everything currently hanging in front of us. She was excellent at her job. I had never once questioned her choices.
Dash made a gagging sound. “Hard disagree in this case.”
“Annika dressed you for court,” Sebastian said.
“You walk into a courtroom in any of this and you look exactly like what you’re supposed to look like.
Authoritative and slightly terrifying.” He pulled out a charcoal jacket and examined it briefly before putting it back.
“You’re going to a wedding, Briggs. In Las Vegas. In the summer.”
“I’m aware of the location.”
Sebastian nodded. “So you need to look like a man who is capable of having a good time.”
“I am capable of having a good time.”
Both of them looked at me.
“I have a good time regularly,” I said.
“When?” Dash asked.
“Fuck off.”
What followed was not my idea of a good time. The first suit was one of my better ones, a charcoal two-piece that fit well. Of course it fit well. It was tailored to my body.
“No,” Sebastian said before I’d even turned around.
“What’s wrong with it?” I asked.
“You’re going to a wedding, not a deposition.”
“I won’t wear a tie,” I said.
“No,” Sebastian said.
They ransacked my closet. I tried not to cringe at the mess they were making.
I would definitely be leaving a big tip for the housekeeper.
I was standing in my boxer briefs, watching them make a mess.
I had tried on at least twenty pairs of pants.
They were all the same. I wasn’t sure why they needed me to try them on.
I watched Dash pull out a navy suit. It wasn’t one of my regular ones. There was a subtle sheen to the fabric that caught the light.
“This,” he said, holding it up. “This has potential.” He shoved it at me. “Try it on.”
I pulled on the pants and then the jacket. I was shirtless which made me feel ridiculous. The color and sheen were less severe than the others.
Sebastian actually smiled. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“I look like I’m going clubbing,” I muttered.
“You look like a human being with a pulse,” Dash corrected. “There’s a difference. I can’t believe you have this many suits.”
“I don’t only have suits,” I retorted. “I have T-shirts and khakis that I wear in my downtime.”
“When’s the last time you had downtime?” Sebastian asked.
I didn’t respond because we all knew the answer. I didn’t have downtime. I had work, and I had more work, and occasionally I had family obligations that also felt like work.
Sebastian disappeared into my closet and emerged with a crisp white shirt. I had hundreds of white shirts but it was the flashy tie he brought with him that had me recoiling. “Where did that even come from?”
“This,” he said, handing them to me. “No arguments.”
I put on the shirt and knotted the tie. He stepped back, tilting his head critically.
“Better,” he said finally. “Much better.”
I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked different. Still professional, still polished, but somehow less like I was about to cross examine a witness and more like I might actually be a guest at a social event.
“Cinderella is ready for the ball,” Dash said, grinning.
“Shut up,” I said.
“I’m imagining you actually loosening up,” Sebastian said. “Maybe even dancing.”
“Not happening.”
“You’re going to need a few drinks,” Dash said. “Let your hair down a little. Show Mandy you’re not a complete robot.”
“Hell no,” I said immediately. “I’m not drinking. Ever. I need to be on my best behavior to get Mandy back onboard.”
They insisted on helping me pack. Jeans, polos, and T-shirts that still had tags on them.
I looked at my phone. I had exactly four hours before my flight to Vegas. I was still a little irritated I had to fly commercial. The Blackwell jet was in maintenance. Callum and Cleo had already left, which meant I could try to charter a jet or just fly like a normal person.
“Just watch her work,” Dash said. “Don’t try to tell her what to do.”
“I’m not going to tell her what to do. Although I would like to point out, me actually watching a wedding isn’t going to do shit for the contract. I think this is more about her showing off.”
“It is,” Dash said. “She told you that directly. So listen to her. Let her show you how good she is.”
“I know, I know. This is my apology tour. She’s not making me grovel. She’s just making sure I know she’s the boss.”
Dash chuckled. “Yeah, she’s going to make sure you eat your words.”
They let themselves out with some last-minute important advice that I would definitely be ignoring.
I called a car to take me to JFK. Jasmine made sure I had a room at The Venetian.
I wanted off the Strip, but apparently the only other options weren’t great.
I didn’t hate Vegas, but it had never been my scene.
Too loud. Too hot. Too everything. The excess was just not my thing.
Thankfully, I had a first-class ticket. I settled into my window seat with my laptop open and a sparkling water. I worked most of the flight. By the time we landed, it was just after seven Vegas time. The airport was chaos as usual.
My car was waiting to whisk me away. Vegas traffic was better than Manhattan. It moved at least. The driver deposited me at the valet drop off. I checked in, went up to my room, ordered dinner from the room service menu, and ate at the desk with a contract open in front of me.
I did not go down to the casino floor. I did not have a drink at the bar. I did not investigate what was happening in the several thousand square feet of entertainment options that the elevator bank suggested were available to me. I had zero desire to see one of the hundreds of shows.
I was only in Vegas to work and observe. I just had to be a good little boy and pay my penance. Then, and only then, could I go home and get the partnership paperwork underway.
I set an alarm, turned off the light, and closed my eyes. If my brothers knew I was in bed by ten in Vegas, they would never let me live it down. But to be fair, it was after one back home. So, if they asked, I would tell them I stayed up until after midnight.