Chapter 30 A Little Healthy Competition
A LITTLE HEALTHY COMPETITION
Brendan
The whole goddamn world had been invited to my engagement party.
I’d expected our extended family to be there.
The board of directors, of course, including the Savage family, and some other key stakeholders.
A fair number of Dad’s old guard from the neighborhood.
But I didn’t think he’d invite every person of note in greater New England, every hand he’d ever shaken.
I should have known, of course. Blackguard Holding was the only thing that truly meant anything to my old man.
Nearly two months had passed since his procedure, but he still hadn’t gone back to the office (though in some ways, he may as well have, considering how many calls I was fielding from him per day).
This party was a way for him to announce to the world that if he wasn’t back, he was close.
I knew the truth, though. I still remembered how he’d looked the first time I saw him lying unconscious in the hospital, weak and frail, a complete contrast to the man who’d done nothing but instill fear in me and my siblings our entire lives.
Now the oxygen tank was gone, but the cane was needed.
At home, he still stumbled every so often, wheezed when he walked too fast, and grimaced each time he had to get out of a chair.
I found myself wondering what Simone would do if she were at the house with him instead of the hospital. She was literally trained to help people like this be at ease with their weaknesses.
What would she do for someone like my dad?
Not that I was going to ask her. The fucker didn’t deserve it.
After the dinner with Owen, we’d both, by unspoken decree, taken a break from the charade, spending our days separately and pointedly not going out in public or really anywhere explicit displays of affection would be required.
I went to the office to put out fires and try to prove to the board that my position should be made permanent upon my father’s supposed (yet still unannounced) retirement.
Simone spent her time either baking or learning all the crap Ruth insisted she needed to know to socialize with my family and the rest of our peers.
We’d have dinner together, chat a little, and retire to our bedrooms, where she probably read a book or something equally innocent while I went upstairs and furiously jerked off so I wouldn’t tear down her door like a sex-crazed Viking.
I was up to three times per icy shower just to get some sleep.
So, sure. Things were calmer. But definitely not easier.
I only came close to kissing her one more time, when she sent Rosie home so she could make me a French omelet with her family’s goat cheese, served with some of her fresh bread and butter.
It was probably the best fucking thing I’d ever eaten.
I took the rest with me for lunch the next day, and the taste made me lose focus in the middle of a meeting where I was too busy imagining her smile when I was supposed to be listening to the newest numbers coming out of our tech division.
Otherwise, there were no more kisses. No more hugs. No more touches.
I was a model of self-control.
And it was fucking torture.
“Are you okay?” Simone asked as we approached the portico entrance to the house, where an event planner was checking people off a list as they filed inside.
It was ridiculous. My fake engagement had turned into an event that essentially required ticketed entry.
A month ago, I’d have thought nothing of it, but lately, I was seeing the grandeur of my life through a different lens.
It was Simone’s conscience I now heard when I arrived home to my far-too-spacious apartment or walked up the steps of a house bigger than a monarch’s castle.
What was it all for?
And couldn’t it be used for something more?
“I’m fine,” I said, maybe a little more sharply than I intended. And maybe I was a little too intent when I grabbed her hand.
I’d been waiting almost a month for that small privilege.
Pathetic.
I tried for a smile. “There are a lot more people here than I thought.”
Simone’s face softened. “Oh, of course. Yeah, it’s a lot.”
Fuck, she looked great. Her stylist had done excellent work with a sleeveless slate dress that slipped over her curves like a stream and a matching translucent shawl draped over her shoulders.
With my name, she had the ability to borrow from the best jewelers in the city, but Simone had opted again for the simple pendant and earring set I’d given her on our first date, along with the ring on her finger.
With her hair swept around one shoulder, she was the definition of simple elegance.
Da Vinci would be proud. And then he’d probably want to paint her.
I’d been trying not to stare the entire drive here.
“The staff will get our bags and put them in our room,” I told her as we walked inside.
“Our room.” She stared all around the foyer, with its winding double staircase, marble floors, and coiling woodwork, a crystal chandelier winking above us.
“It’s just for tonight.”
Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Of course. People will expect us to sleep together, obviously. I just didn’t think about it until now.”
Neither had I, actually.
Christ. Now I was imagining being alone with her behind closed doors. Taking off her dress. Lying in our bed.
Our bed.
My tuxedo pants grew tighter. I was going to have to go for four tonight.
Goddamn it.
“There they are!”
I didn’t know who had said it, but we’d been spotted by several partygoers.
I squeezed Simone’s hand and led her under the stairs to the back doors of the house, where the party was being held on the lawn that stretched all the way down to the beach.
A band was set up just past the pool, along with a dance floor and a tent where people were eating.
“This isn’t an engagement party. It’s a circus,” I muttered.
Now it was Simone squeezing my hand. “Welcome to the greatest show on earth?”
I tried to smile back. “Yes, exactly. Break a leg, baby.” I waved at an eager guest, then took the opportunity to lean down and press a kiss to Simone’s cheek.
Two seconds. Just for show.
I was really starting to hate that fucking contract.
She reddened but leaned into the kiss, so I lingered, taking a few deep inhales of her lilac scent.
Somehow, I managed to stand back up. “All right. Let’s go find my horror show of a family and show you off.”
It was the definition of a rock and a hard place.
I wanted her alone. Wanted to carry her up to our room like a caveman, toss her onto the bed, and do unspeakable things to that body before falling asleep with her in my arms. But since that was impossible, I had to content myself with dealing with a mob just to have a reason to hold her hand.
It proved difficult to make our way through the crowd, as we were stopped every few steps by well-wishers (i.e.
, people looking to kiss my ass). By the time I found my father holding court with my siblings, Liam, Liza, and a few other hangers-on at the edge of the dance floor, ninety minutes had passed.
Simone looked dizzy from the effects of too many champagne toasts and introductions.
“Brendan!” my father barked when he saw me approaching.
Having traded his tracksuits for a tux that matched every other man’s at the party, something closer to vitality colored his features. But for my father, vitality wasn’t much different than the need to dominate anyone and everyone in his path.
Like any predator, he was ruled by the urge to kill.
Gripping Simone’s hand, I led her over to him.
“Well, well, well. This must be your Simone. We meet at last.” His dark green gaze skimmed over my girl, and I fought the urge to shield her with my body.
Instead, I rolled my eyes and affected nonchalance. “Jesus, Dad. You’ve met. She was there with you in the hospital.”
A nasty half smile hooked the left side of his mouth. “Of course. How could I forget such a pretty face?”
It was classic Niall Black—an insult hidden in a compliment, designed to let people know who was in charge.
“Well, he wasn’t in the best place to be receiving company,” Simone put in.
Everyone turned to her like they hadn’t even realized she could speak.
She blinked. “I just mean, I wouldn’t blame you for not remembering me, Mr. Black, given your condition. It’s nice to see you again. I’m so glad you’re feeling better.”
She couldn’t have known what she’d done. How with her brief acknowledgment of his weakness, she’d kindly but effectively put my father in his fucking place. How what most people would take that as consideration, but Niall Black would take as an insult.
Oh, you beautiful thing, you.
Once again, I fought the urge to get her the hell out of this den of lions.
Instead, I stepped aside, though still holding her hand, while she accepted a kiss from my father that lingered just a moment too long on her cheek.
Dad might have been in his eighties, but he’d never hidden his appreciation for an attractive woman.
There was no shortage of models looking for his approval, given that so many of his companies literally owned their careers, and Dad’s affairs were one of those things that everyone in the family, including his wife, overlooked.
This was his way of letting her and me know that he could have her if he wanted.
I wanted to pluck his fucking eyes out just for looking at her.
“Beautiful,” he said as he lifted her hand to his lips. “Just beautiful.”
Simone kept a careful smile plastered across her face, but I could read the discomfort behind the expression.
I couldn’t take it any longer.
“Dad,” I said a little too sharply, wedging my body between him and Simone. “Thanks for all this.”
“It’s too much,” Simone added. “You really didn’t have to do all of this just for me.”
“Goodness gracious, really?” Ronan wondered loudly to Liam. “Maybe we should’ve done a bar-bee-cue with mason jars and sunflowers. Throw us a real Pinterest party.”