Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
CONDESCENSION
Griffin
The Oaktree Club sat in the heart of Manhattan’s financial district with dark wood paneling and leather chairs.
Old money and old boys permeated the surroundings.
This was the kind of place where deals were brokered over bourbon and cigars while the rest of the world had no clue about the decisions made here.
I’d been a member since my twenty-fifth birthday, my father’s gift. His way of saying I’d finally earned a seat at the table.
Tonight, that table would be full of people from the leading investment banks, financiers, a few hedge fund managers Sam had specifically invited to gauge interest in the IPO. The type of men and women who could make or break West Games with a single phone call.
Brock dropped us off at the curb, and I helped Jessa out of the car. I walked with her at my side, head held high. She’d changed at the office. Another dress from Laurel Lane’s collection. This one emerald green, fitted and elegant, making her eyes pop and her shape impossible to ignore.
My eyes caught on the dazzling diamond earrings I’d sent.
She thought they were on loan; I’d actually purchased them for her.
A parting gift I’d leave her with later when our time was up.
Seeing her dazzle in front of the photographers, the idea of ending this at some point seemed ridiculous.
Too far off. Not something I wanted to think about now.
More flash bulbs went off. I introduced Jessa as my fiancée. She called out Laurel Lane’s name when asked who she was wearing. Five minutes later, when we stepped inside, every head turned like we were royalty.
The club’s main room was divided by an elegant floor-to-ceiling glass planter.
Massive. Filled with bamboo and ferns behind semi-frosted glass that created a natural partition.
On the larger side sat the meeting space with its long mahogany table and high-backed chairs.
On the other, the open bar and small lounge area.
Perfect for privacy, and for keeping certain conversations separate from the social hour.
“Relax,” I murmured in her ear as we approached the meeting space. “You look stunning.”
“This one feels different, like I’m about to be fed to sharks.”
“You are. But I’ll be right beside you.”
She squeezed my hand, took a breath, and tilted her chin up. The way she did that anytime she needed to be bigger than she was, even as an act, charmed the hell out of me.
“Griffin!” Richard Hawthorne approached first, silver-haired and impeccable suit. One of the most influential bankers in the city. We shook hands. “Good to see you. And who is this?”
“Richard, this is Jessa Cole. My fiancée.”
The word still felt strange on my tongue. But I said it with conviction.
“Fiancée!” Richard’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, congratulations. I didn’t know you were seeing anyone seriously.”
“We’ve kept things quiet,” I said smoothly. “But when you know, you know.”
Jessa extended her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hawthorne.”
“The pleasure is mine.” He shook her hand warmly. “And please, call me Richard. Any woman who can tie down Griffin West deserves my respect.”
More introductions followed. David Smith from Goldman. Patrick Bennett from JP Morgan. Anthony Ortega, a venture capitalist who’d been circling West Games for years.
Each one greeted Jessa with curiosity. Assessed her with sharp eyes. And each one, I noticed, kept the conversation going, smiling.
She had that effect, whether or not she realized it.
“Where did the two of you meet?” Anthony asked, swirling his bourbon.
“Holly Creek,” Jessa said easily. “A small town upstate. I was working at a brewery when Griffin came in for a meeting with one of the owners.”
“A brewery?” David raised an eyebrow. “How charming.”
There was condescension in his tone. Subtle. But there. My jaw clicked.
“It is. Family-owned. Best craft beer in the state if you should ever visit sometime,” Jessa provided, unfazed.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Thankfully, the meeting began before I could warn these men to come down from their mountain tops and drop the tone.
Sam guided everyone to the table on the meeting side of the glass partition. Jessa sat beside me, quiet but attentive, nodding in the right places, smiling when appropriate.
An hour passed. She was probably bored to tears but hardly looked it.
The projections were solid. The questions posed were tough but fair and easy enough for Sam and me to tackle. By the time we reached the final slides, I could feel the room leaning in our direction.
This was going well.
I glanced at Jessa. She caught my eye, touched her throat, and mouthed the word “water” and gestured toward the bar on the other side of the partition.
I nodded and half stood as she rose. The other gentlemen around us did as well, and old school sign of respect. She slipped out quietly, disappearing behind the frosted glass.
I turned my attention back to Richard’s question about quarterly earnings, and answered smoothly. But my eyes kept drifting to the glass.
I could see her silhouette through the semi-frosted barrier, and hear bits of her voice, talking to the bartender. Guess I could take the bartender out of the small town, but she’d always find her way back to what she knew.
A few more minutes passed by when I noticed another silhouette appeared on the stool next to her. This one taller and broader, angling close to her. My hands formed fists, keeping one eye on them.
“Griffin?” Sam’s voice pulled me back. “Your thoughts on the European expansion?”
I forced my focus back to the table. “Yes. We’re targeting Q3 for the rollout. Germany first, then France, and the UK.”
Good save, but my attention split. Through the glass, something didn’t appear right. She got off her stool and stepped back. He followed.
“Excuse me for one moment.” I stood abruptly.
I rounded the glass partition just as Jessa’s voice rose slightly.
“I said no thank you.”
I recognized Paul Desoto, an old nemesis of mine. The asshole backed her against the bar, one hand braced on the counter beside her, effectively trapping her. Glasses of water and a beer sat sweating on the bar.
“Come on, have a drink with me? I remember you did once before, at that small town dive bar. You were a lot friendlier then. Tight jeans. Low-cut top, your bosoms pouring out of it. You poured me a whiskey, and I left you a generous tip. Among other things I would’ve liked to give you that night—”
I lunged forward to deck him, but before I could, Jessa reached for the beer. Her hand slipped. The glass tipped forward, dumping its contents directly onto Paul’s crotch and down his pants, and splashing across his expensive Italian shoes.
“What the hell!” He jumped back, staring down at the dark stain spreading across the front of his trousers.
The bartender came around with towels to help clean up. “Sir, I’m so sorry. The condensation on those glasses makes them slippery. Are you all right, Jessa?” He winked at her.
“I’m fine.” She recovered. “Sorry. It just slipped out of my hand.”
“No, you did that on purpose!” Paul’s face turned red. “This bitch—”
“Watch your mouth, Paul,” I growled, pushing Jessa behind me. “The bartender confirmed it was an accident.”
“Bullshit. She—”
“I said, watch your mouth.” I seethed and stepped closer, voice dropping to something lethal. “Or would you prefer I explain to everyone in that meeting how you tried to corner my fiancée while she was getting water?”
Paul’s eyes narrowed. “Your fiancée? You’re slumming it West?”
My hand shot out. Grabbed his collar. Yanked him close enough that I could smell the beer soaking into his pants.
“Say one more word and I’ll make sure every bank in this city knows what you did to the Whitmore account. Try me,” I threatened.
His face went white.
I released him, and waved over the club manager, who’d been hovering nearby.
“Mr. DeSoto was just leaving. Permanently. I want him barred from this club,” I demanded, straightening my tie.
The manager nodded crisply. “Of course, Mr. West. Right away.”
Paul shot me a venomous look. Then turned and stormed toward the exit, trailing beer and humiliation behind him.
He was always a rat, since the early days when we were both recruited from college to work as junior analysts for a large hedge fund.
Dad had required I get some real world experience before joining West Games under him.
I got to see first hand some really underhanded dealings, including Paul’s as he tried to rise too fast in the company.
I turned to Jessa. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She met my eyes. Something fierce flickered there. “Promise.”
Before Sam could emerge from the meeting space, I took Jessa’s hand and led her around the partition.
Everyone looked up as we entered. I didn’t know how much of the altercation they’d heard.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” I said smoothly. “Thank you for your time tonight. The presentation and projections speak for themselves. If you have any follow-up questions, please reach out to Sam or my office directly.”
I squeezed Jessa’s hand, giving her a look of a appreciation.
“Now I’m going to take my lovely fiancée home for the evening. I look forward to continuing our conversations soon.”
Richard stood, extending his hand. “Excellent presentation, Griffin. We’ll be in touch.”
A few others followed suit with handshakes and nods. A few curious glances at Jessa, but nothing more.
I guided her out into the cool night air, my hand never leaving the small of her back.
Behind us, I could hear Sam’s voice picking up the threads of conversation. Keeping the momentum going.
Good. Let him handle the cleanup.
I had more important things to focus on.
The car ride home started in silence.
Jessa stared out the window. Hands folded in her lap. The ring catching streetlights as we passed.
Then she laughed.
Soft at first. Then louder. Until she was shaking with it.
I glanced over. “What’s so funny?”
“Did you see his face?” She wiped her eyes. “When the beer hit him?”
A smile tugged at my mouth. “Hard to miss.”
“I learned that little slip-of-the-glass trick a long time ago,” she said, still grinning. “To combat idiots who took things too far.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Glad you never used that on me.”
“You treated me decently from the start.” Her lashes fluttered my way. “Even when you were a grumpy billionaire.”
“Grumpy?”
“Brooding. Intense. Whatever helps your ego sleep at night.” She shifted in her seat to face me. “But you never cornered me. Never made me feel small. You treated me like I mattered.”
“You do matter,” I said quietly.
She held my gaze for a beat. Then looked away. “Anyway. Sorry if I caused trouble.”
“You didn’t. Paul’s been an ass for years. He deserved the beer dump.”
She laughed again. Lighter this time.
We drove in comfortable silence for a few blocks. Then I asked the question that had been nagging at me.
“Why don’t you drink?”
She stiffened slightly. “What?”
“At the club. You went for water. At the cocktail party, you had sparkling cider. Even at dinner last week, you avoided the wine.” I glanced at her. “I’ve noticed.”
“Oh.” She bit her lip. “I’m watching my figure. Trying not to drink as much. Empty calories, you know?”
I reached over and squeezed her perfectly thick thigh.
“For the record? I watch your figure too.” My voice dropped. “And I like every inch. Don’t change a thing.”
Her breath caught. “Griffin...”
“I mean it. You’re perfect exactly as you are.”
She squeezed my hand and beamed from ear to ear. But something flickered behind her eyes. Something I couldn’t quite read.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
I brought her hand to my lips, and kissed her knuckles, letting the moment settle between us.
As the city lights blurred past, I meant every word about her. After watching Elsa obsessively count calories during pregnancy, afraid to gain weight, and Theo barely thriving in the womb, I could never be with a woman like that again.
The first night I met Jessa, her body made me want her. Her fire made me respect her. But her heart? That’s what scared the hell out of me.
Because one small-town woman with a beer-soaked sense of justice threatened to unravel my control—and unlock something I’d sworn shut a long time ago.