Chapter 3
HARRISON
The townhouse I was renting was all exposed brick, clean lines, and leather furniture that smelled like success and freedom. I had a house on my parents’ estate as well as my own wing in their mansion ever since my brothers had all moved out years ago.
Maybe I was crazy for renting when I had two perfectly good places to stay, but once I’d come back from Europe and decided to stay, getting my own place seemed like the next logical step.
This neighborhood was on the cusp of being the place to live, surrounded by trendy restaurants and bars, and so far, I was loving it here.
The only reason I hadn’t bought this townhouse was because it wasn’t permanent. I wasn’t dumb enough to buy when I knew I wasn’t going to be a bachelor forever, but it was mine for now.
I took one last look at myself in the freestanding, metal framed mirror in my bedroom and grinned.
It was Friday night and I was officially ready to hit the town.
I grabbed a leather jacket and slid it on, then I headed out, walking to a bar just a couple blocks away to meet up with a few of my old boarding school buddies.
Cold air stung my cheeks, but it felt so good to be walking when I was going out instead of bracing myself for a thirty minute minimum commute from the estate that I didn’t even mind the biting wind. I tucked my chin, hands in my pockets, and marveled in the freedom I felt as I roamed the streets.
It felt like I was back in Europe, but I was at home.
In San Francisco and yet, not a single Westwood knew where I was right now.
My parents had never been overbearing or anything, but there were a lot of us and with both of them and my three brothers around, it’d always felt like someone was keeping tabs on me.
No more, though. This was a kind of newfound independence and I smiled against my collar, relieved and maybe even a little surprised by how much I was loving my life right now.
Pushing open the door to the bar where I was meeting my friends, I tossed my hand up in a wave when I saw them and weaved around the after-work crowd to their booth. Edison bulbs hung overhead, the ceiling all exposed wooden beams and the booths brand new, padded for comfortable seating.
It was the kind of place where people pretended they weren’t checking out each other’s watches to figure out who had the bigger bank account. Where deals they hadn’t closed yet were boasted about and everyone talked like they were the next big thing on this town’s business scene. My kind of spot.
“Westwooood!” Drew called when I reached them, drawing out the last syllable of my name like he was starting a chant. “How was your first week in the big leagues, bro? Break any hearts yet?”
“Or just bank accounts?” Dean smirked, pushing a pitcher of beer and a glass toward me. “Although, in your business, I’m pretty sure you break the hearts because you’ve broken the bank accounts.”
I chuckled. “I guess that depends on your definition of both. I made a man an offer he can’t refuse, if that counts. The deal hasn’t closed yet, but it will. So yeah, great first week.”
“Shit, you sound exactly like Sterling.” Drew picked up his glass. “He’s grooming you to take over acquisitions when he becomes CEO, right?”
I snorted. “Nope. I don’t think so, boys. Maybe if I manage to close this deal, he’ll start taking me seriously, but for now, he wants me to, and I quote, be young and live a little.”
Drew leaned forward, brow furrowing. “Does pregnancy brain affect Dads, too? Because that doesn’t sound like him at all.”
“It’s not,” I said.
Dean cocked his head. “Well, what’s the deal you’re trying to close? Maybe he just doesn’t think you’re going to get it done.”
“Jameson gave me the file. I don’t even know if he told Sterling I’m working on it, but I went to a meeting anyway. I walked in on some newly-broke trust fund baby ready to hand over his family’s entire portfolio for scraps to another acquisitions manager.”
Drew chuckled. “Whoever they were, they can’t have been happy when you walked in.”
“You should’ve seen her face.” I smirked. “If looks could kill, I’d be a pile of ash.”
They roared with laughter, clinking their glasses against mine. We all drank to my survival, nearly draining our glasses.
Dean was still chuckling as he slid his arm over the back of the booth and cocked his head at me. “So what happens now?”
I shrugged. “Now, I wait for the call. Broke trust fund baby will come crawling. They always do.”
As I reached for our pitcher to refill my glass, I realized it was almost empty and I stood to grab another round. “The next one’s on me.”
I made my way through the crowd toward the bar. And then—bam. There she was.
Aurelia Van Alen, looking even more dangerous under the amber lights than she had in that restaurant. Yeah, I knew Aurelia—knew of her, at least. Old money. Yale. Richard Van Alen’s little princess.
Our families circled the same parties, the same galas, though I couldn’t remember ever talking to her before this week. My mother made a bit of sport of keeping the Van Alen clan out of our inner circle and CC’s social rules were carved in stone.
For some reason, she’d decided that the Van Alen’s were out, which meant I’d never even met them.
My father hadn’t quite gotten the memo, though.
Richard was one of his oldest colleagues, a banker who’d weathered three recessions and two market crashes with his reputation intact.
Dad respected the hell out of him. I’d never really figured out what my mother’s problem was, but I didn’t really care.
Aurelia? She was stunning. Exactly my type, unfortunately.
A living, breathing barbie doll with curves in all the right places, poured into a tight red dress like she was daring every man in the room to stare until he lost his goddamn mind. Her skin had that golden-bronze glow money couldn’t buy, and her hair was this natural dark blonde.
I’d bet my inheritance that it wasn’t dyed that color. She wore it too proudly, like she already knew she was perfect and didn’t need anyone to manipulate that. She was perfect though, drop-dead gorgeous in that old, Hollywood kind of way.
When I reached the bar, I placed our order and pretended to be more interested in the bartender pouring our bourbon than I was in her, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away from her, flanked by two girlfriends as they moved through the crowd like hot knives through butter.
Just my luck, they moved straight toward a group of guys by the bar. Finance bros, if I had to guess. Their loafers were too shiny and they were all laughing too loudly, like they were compensating for whatever they were lacking.
My eyes followed her like a hunter tracking prey, but she was here for them. Not for me. As the bartender slid our drinks across the counter, I picked them up and deliberately turned my back on Aurelia and her friends.
Right now, I couldn’t afford to have my brain short-circuited the way it had been threatening to since she’d stormed right up to me. I’d managed to keep my composure then, even if going toe to toe with her had been a borderline erotic experience.
Instead, I slid back into the booth with my guys, tossing my drink down like it was juice. “Hey, Drew. Your girlfriend’s family made their money in tech, right?”
Drew blinked, mid-swallow of his drink. “Yeah?”
“She wouldn’t happen to know Aurelia Van Alen, would she? Maybe she’s mentioned her?”
“Aurelia? I mean, I’ve heard the name. She’s kind of popular online. Like, Instagram-popular. My girl said she’s always getting invited to those charity galas for young professionals, but other than that, nothing.”
I smirked, filing the information away in case I needed to use it later. Instagram popular. Figures. No wonder she strutted through the bar like it’s her own, personal runway.
Still, it was enough to go on. If she was chasing the same client I was, she had to be working under her father. No other reason a Van Alen would be sniffing around an acquisition deal.
The guys and I finally moved on from me and my big first week, swapping stories and drinking one too many rounds. I laughed until my throat was sore, but through it all, I snuck glances at her, finding it more and more difficult to look away after every shot I tossed back.
Eventually, we all peeled off in our own directions and I decided to walk again. Strings of Christmas lights were twinkling outside shop fronts and I’d genuinely enjoyed the walk over. With the heat of alcohol now in my veins, I was betting the walk home would be even better.
As I turned to head down the street though, I saw her. Aurelia stood on the sidewalk outside the bar, a friend beside her. Even wrapped in a coat, she still looked like she’d stepped out of some glossy magazine spread.
I slowed, savoring the moment, but I kept walking, smug as hell when I noticed her eyes narrowing when she saw me. For just a moment, our gazes locked and her red-painted lips parted, golden strands of hair forming a halo around her face in the breeze.
“You coming?” her friend asked as an Uber pulled up.
Aurelia didn’t take her eyes off me, instead waving her friend off with a flick of her manicured hand. “I’ll catch you later.”
In my periphery, I saw the other girl frown, but then her eyes darted between the two of us, widening a little before she shrugged and climbed into the car. As the door slammed shut behind her, I knew I was getting my showdown with the vixen tonight after all.
“Are you stalking me, Westwood?” she asked, her voice honeyed but sharp, like she’d wanted the words to sting.
I smirked, sliding my hands into my pockets. “Relax, Van Alen. I live in the neighborhood.”
Her eyebrows rose. “What a coincidence. So do I.”
Of course, she did. Of course, fate would throw us into the same orbit like this while we’re going after the same fucking client.
I closed the distance between us, only stopping when I was close enough to catch the faint scent of her perfume. Something expensive and subtle, like citrus and silk. She watched me without retreating or even leaning away, standing her ground in her red-soled heels.
“I thought you all lived on some compound outside the city,” she commented lightly, but I saw the curiosity in her big blue eyes.
She was clearly smart. I’d seen that the other day. She definitely had fire in her soul and a backbone of steel, but right now, I wondered if perhaps a little bit of that at least was simply a mask. She seemed much nicer right now.
Until she spoke again. “What’s the matter, Westwood? Was there not enough room on that big old estate for your ego?”
Oooo, she’s feisty too.
I didn’t skip a beat, though. “What can I say? My ego likes a view of the skyline.”
Her lips twitched before she could stop them. There was just the faintest hint of a smile, but she caught herself before it could go any further. “What do you want? Why did you follow me out here?”
“Just to be clear, I didn’t follow you, but you’re right.
I do want something.” I pulled a sleek, black business card out of my pocket and held it out between two fingers.
“I want that heir and so do you. As it stands, however, you and your family don’t have the capital to entice even a guy that desperate. I do. Maybe we can work something out.”
Her lips parted and for a second, I thought she might actually consider it, but then she scoffed. “Something like what?”
I pressed the card into her hand when she didn’t take it willingly. “Drinks. Tomorrow night.”
Her answering smile was slow, wicked, and frankly, devastating. “I’d rather eat glass.”
Before I could fire back, she tucked the card into my chest pocket, her fingers brushing just enough to make it deliberate, then turned on her heels and walked away.
Her coat flared around her legs, her hips swayed, and she strode into the night with her head held high, as if not even the wintry cold could touch her.
I grinned as I watched her go, knowing I’d be hearing from her soon. No matter how much she didn’t seem to like me, if she wanted that deal as bad as I thought she did, working with me was the only way she was going to get it—and she was smart enough to know it.