Chapter 9
Audrey Tripp
When I exit the CEO’s office and see Ms. Baker gone for lunch, hope lightens my steps. We might actually make it to the parking garage without running into anyone.
My heart sinks into my toes when the elevator dings, announcing someone’s arrival before we reach the foyer. Brennan slows his steps and aims his gaze expectantly at the space beside him. I grit my teeth and move to his side.
Carlos steps up to the reception desk as we reach the end of the hallway. I bite back a growl and skirt around the corner, hoping to slip into the elevator before he notices us.
I’m not that lucky. He places a folder on the desk and turns. A smile brightens his expression until he notices my bags slung over Brennan’s shoulder. The skeptical tilt of his lips jangles through me. I mash the button for the elevator.
As the doors to the elevator on the right open, the left whips to a stop and chimes.
Fuck. More people.
Carlos greets Brennan and me. I tuck my reluctance away and return his greeting with a smile.
Brennan leans forward and covers the door sensor with his arm.
“After you, Ms. Tripp,” he says.
The amount of testosterone and tension thrumming through the air between my secretly gay best male friend and my ex-stepbrother CEO gives me an instant headache. I step into the elevator, but neither man is fast enough to avoid the newcomers stepping off the second one.
I grind my teeth and move deeper into the tiny box as they exchange greetings with the two department heads who came to shat with the COO in the executive break room.
“Heard about your fight in the gym this morning. I’m sad I missed it. Billy said it was epic,” the financial department head says.
My thoughts screech to a halt.
Carlos and Brennan fought each other?
Brennan’s voice rings in my memory. At Brook’s wedding last weekend—was that only this past Saturday?—he accused me of flirting with Carlos and Liam. He didn’t believe me when I said we weren’t, but it’s not my place to reveal Carlos and Liam’s relationship.
“He owes me lunch tomorrow,” Carlos says with a chin tilt toward Brennan.
Horror roots me to the spot.
They really fought. Brennan lost.
All the times he comforted me as a child flip through my mind. His gentle care when I bumped my hip into the corner of the desk on Monday replays in vivid detail.
The world blurs. My eyes refuse to focus on anything except him.
Carlos trains his body and mind every day for fighting. He gets paid to be a deterrent against violence.
What the hell was my idiot ex-stepbrother thinking?
They exchange more words, but my brain refuses to process them.
Two massive, masculine bodies duck into the tiny space, and for the first time in thirteen years, I don’t flinch at the sight of a suit.
Urgency and incredulity pulse through me.
The second the doors close, I grab Brennan’s arm and pivot in front of him. With impatient hands, I check him for injuries, tugging him this way and that. He humors me with a small, pleased smile on his face.
“What in the fucking hell were you thinking? Why would you do something so stupid?” I growl.
“What are you doing, Ms. Tripp?” Brennan asks.
“Not you. You shut up,” I snarl.
Surprise widens his eyes. His lashes brush against his glasses and his blue irises shine in the harsh fluorescent lighting.
“You, Carlos. What the hell?”
I flick my friend an angry glance as I hook my fingers around Brennan’s nape and pull him down to me. He bends without resistance. I pinch his chin and tilt his face to and fro, searching for bruises.
“If I’d known you’d abandon our friendship so quickly, I’d have taken that shot to end his lineage,” Carlos huffs.
My panic recedes as I convince myself Brennan isn’t hiding some terrible injury.
The ridiculousness of the situation slams into me. I try to pull away as mortification shrivels my soul, but Brennan gently closes his fists around my forearms and holds me in place.
“We were sparring, love. Two level-headed individuals wearing protective gear on mats in the gym. But I’m hurt you think so little of me.”
“Level-headed? Yeah right. You challenged someone who gets paid to be ready to fight at all times,” I scowl.
“Actually, I challenged him,” Carlos says.
I turn my glare to my friend and hiss, “You’re not helping your case.”
“You’re worrying about the wrong guy, Audrey. He held his own,” he says with a shrug.
“I bet you didn’t know he could when you challenged him.”
“He did,” Brennan interjects.
I swing my eyes back to his. My heart squeezes at how close his face is to mine. Part of me demands I yank free while the other longs to kiss him.
Words refuse to form, so I make a skeptical note in the back of my throat.
“He watched me pound on the punching bag for a while before he approached me.”
The elevator slows its descent. I pull away and ignore the quiet lamenting of my soul as the distance grows between us.
He’s my boss. My ex-stepbrother. No matter what he says or does, he can never be anything other than my CEO. Not after he abandoned me to his abusive father thirteen years ago. Not after he failed to protect me ten years ago.
Not now that I’m a broken, unlovable mess.
I clear my throat and fix my blouse.
“And what were the stakes?” I ask in the chilliest tone I can manage with my heart trying to pound out of my chest.
“Paying for lunch tomorrow,” he says.
I cross my arms over my chest and glance between them.
“Uh-huh, yeah, sure. And how did that go for you, Mr. Diamond?” I scoff.
He grins. Carlos chuckles.
“It was an even match,” my friend says.
I lift a brow and open my mouth to tell him to stop stroking his boss’s ego, but he continues.
“I told him I’m gay and in a relationship. He admitted he’s pursuing you. We’re on the same page now.”
I bite my tongue on my initial response and wait until after the elevator pings to speak, but my words still emerge caustic.
“Well then, that’s a relief. I hope you have a blast at lunch tomorrow. This is your floor, Mr. Lopez.”
I don’t realize the implications of stopping at the lobby until the doors part and Mr. Collin’s smile morphs to a dumbfounded expression. His gaze drops to my empty hands, roams over Brennan’s loaded arms, and lands on Carlos’s face.
“Ah, well, looks like we both lost that bet, eh?”
Even as Brennan asks, “What bet?” I push Carlos out of the elevator and attack the close door button.
Carlos’s thick brows raised in amusement linger in my mind long after the panels slide closed.
“Audrey, what bet?” Brennan repeats.
“I don’t know what they’re talking about, sir,” I lie.
The last thing I need is to stroke my domineering jerk of a boss’s ego and tell him how he succeeded in doing something no one else has managed to do since I got my shit together and stopped cowering every second of the day.
Carlos has tried and failed to help me with my bags for eight years, yet on his third day of working in this office, Brennan proudly carries them all—even my purse—while I stand empty-handed.
He’d never stop preening if I told him.
He narrows his attention to my eyes. I bat my lashes and say a silent prayer of thanks when the elevator opens.
I step over the threshold and shift aside so he can lead the way to his car.
After settling me in the passenger seat and offering me my purse, he places my bag and briefcase in the back seat.
When he turns as though to lean back in through my door, I buckle my seatbelt faster than I ever have before and place both hands on my purse in my lap.
He chuckles and shuts my door before walking around the trunk and wedging his massive frame behind the wheel.
My mouth dries at the reminder of how much bigger he is than I am. I’d never be able to reach the pedals if my seat were that far back. As a teen, he was wiry muscular as though he could never get enough to eat, but now he’s gigantic.
He could crush me with one hand. Despite everything I’ve learned in self-defense class throughout the years, I stand no chance against his strength if he decides to hurt me.
My very marrow insists he never will, but the last man I trusted decimated my entire life in one night.
The vehicle floats through the parking lot, over the speed bumps, and through the gate like a dream.
Brennan breaks the silence a few minutes into the drive.
“What do you know about this meeting?” he asks.
I sigh and shake my head.
“Mr. Williams set it up himself two weeks ago. He insisted I attend with him but wouldn’t give further details. I’m going into this as blind as you are,” I say.
He grunts, nods, and navigates the crazy roads with ease.
I tell myself not to drool over his thick, corded forearms and striking profile, but my eyes refuse to look away. He’s much more mesmerizing than traffic.
Hunger darkens his eyes as he catches my ogling. I clear my throat and turn my gaze out the window.
We pull up to a ritzy hotel. I sigh and rub the tension forming between my eyes.
I’m not dressed for fancy, and after the busy morning and impromptu nap, my suit no longer feels crisp and my makeup is probably in need of a refresher. Acutely aware of dress codes and societal expectations from my demanding and male-dominated workplace, I silently berate myself for the oversight.
I should have realized Mr. Williams wouldn’t book a meeting in a normal restaurant. He was always fine dining with pompous assholes.
With a sigh, I wait for Brennan to toss the keys to the valet and open my door. When he offers me his hand, I give him a warning look before accepting.
I am neither arm candy nor a trophy wife and do not need his high-handed excuses to touch me.
After offering me a heart-meltingly gentle smile, his entire demeanor changes. He becomes the cutthroat businessman everyone warns against crossing.
The deepest parts of me relax despite my senses winding higher. With him around, no one would dare hurt me.
Except he already left me behind once. I’ve learned how to fend for myself. I don’t need him.