FIVE
“I EXPECTED RESISTANCE at the house.”
Diplomatic word choice when “resistance” really meant “hostility.”
Sitting opposite Spurn in this elegant restaurant, she perused the sparse menu.
“My parents are at the opera tonight,” she said, neither in the mood for duck nor sea bass.
“And Bram?”
“Still at the office. He’s rarely home before ten on a weeknight, more often than not it’s midnight. I don’t see much of my brother.”
Not that she cried herself to sleep over that.
“Some people have to work harder at it.”
Drawing her eyes up, she glared over the top of her menu. “Will you always be this way?”
“That was inappropriate.”
Putting down her menu, she folded her hands on top of it. “You want people to believe we’re a couple.” Single nod. “People will never believe I could have genuine feelings for you if you persist in insulting my family.”
“People will also not believe it if I suddenly begin forfeiting contracts to them.”
“No one is asking you to do that.”
He took a breath, lowering his menu a little. “My father’s best friend and I have a dual dynamic. In business, he respects my authority and follows orders without question. In private, and on personal matters, he’ll weigh in with unwanted advice. Frequently.”
She smiled, appreciating a glimpse into the truth of him. “Why do I need to know that?”
“Often relationships shift based on circumstance and situation. I envision a similar relationship with your family. Nothing will change in the boardroom. We will still be adversaries, hellbent on beating each other. As I’m hellbent on beating everyone.”
“And in private?”
“I will be civil and respect you are your father’s daughter.”
What was that supposed to mean and why did it sound like an insult?
“Doesn’t that mean you should resist making quips like you just did?”
A sort of concession came when the corner of his mouth twitched. Was that a dimple?
“My girlfriend’s brother should toughen up.”
“And if he says such things about you?”
“I can take it, Gianna. I’m not easily offended.”
“I don’t want you to fight,” she said. Bram would need to hear this too. “Please, I’ve agreed to do whatever you ask. All I ask is that you try to get along with my family. I don’t like confrontation.”
“You defend them though they disregard you.”
Is that what he thought? They shouldn’t get too deep into what Spurn knew about her family and her relationship with them.
What he thought he knew at any rate. The start of the evening, on a first date, was not the time to trade stories spread in society.
They wouldn’t be complimentary; they rarely were.
The waiter came over to ask, “Are you ready to order?”
Sooner choices were made, the sooner they’d be out of there. Why were both men looking at her?
“Are you?” Spurn asked.
Her. That question was aimed at her.
“Am I…?”
“Ready to order?” Spurn asked.
“Oh, uh… I thought you were… Do as I’m told.”
Wasn’t he making all decisions?
“You can choose your own food.”
“Oh…” Her father didn’t think so. And, in contrast, Brogan Spurn… what a surprise. “I’ll have the sea bass.”
Spurn ordered the fish too and picked a complementary wine. Order her own food. That was a new one. Her father ordered for the Sear women whenever they were out. Out? No, everywhere.
Society’s stories about this man were not complimentary, was there a chance they were also completely fabricated?
Brogan Spurn was supposed to be rude and overbearing.
He was supposed to be ruthless and stubborn.
A man like that wouldn’t treat her like a human let alone show her respect and allow her choice.
Mysterious.
Maybe she could do something about that.
“I don’t know much about your family,” she said.
“Not much to know. My father died a decade ago in a boating accident.”
“And your mom?”
“Long gone by then. My father was vacationing with his mistress.”
“She died too?”
He shook his head. “She lives in the city. We set her up in an apartment, she gets expenses, anything she needs.”
Spurn was watching something on the other side of the room. Did the distraction loosen his lips?
“You take care of her? Ten years later?”
“Spurn men take care of their women,” he said. “You’ll want for nothing as long as you’re with me.”
That wasn’t her point. His distraction perhaps confused her intent. Long may it last, the more information she could glean, the better.
“Is that why Spurn men don’t get married?” she asked. No, nope, that got his attention. Darnit. No going back now. “You have mistresses and girlfriends, but you don’t get married. Your father didn’t marry your mother.”
The server came back and poured their wine as another brought their food. Once the men were gone, she spread her linen napkin on her lap.
“One of the few men who didn’t.” Was that a joke or a pathology? Spurn spoke again, “We take care of the women we care about… but we’re not interested in signing over half our hard work. Business takes precedence over everything else.”
Understanding raised her chin. “You spoil them but fear divorce.”
“Divorce is the inevitable end of any marriage,” he said. “There’s no logical purpose to it.”
Keeping themselves separate in law from the women they were sleeping with allowed them to protect their assets. Most important of which: Spurn Global.
“My parents have been happily married for thirty-five years.”
His lips twisted, damming obvious amusement. “They’ve been married for thirty-five years maybe. How do you know it’s a happy marriage?”
A kneejerk reaction demanded she defend her family. Yet… her mind was blank. How did she know? Her parents didn’t scream abuse at each other or cry themselves to sleep, as far as she was aware. Though, opposing that, she also didn’t see them laugh together or sharing intimate moments.
Best to redirect conversation. “Is that what you fear? Being unhappy?”
“If I married, it would be a business decision, not a personal one,” he said. “I see no reason to marry for personal reasons.”
“As long as she’s opening her legs for you, there’s no need to commit.”
That was abrupt. Brazen. Completely unlike her. The wine was potent.
Didn’t chink his armor. Spurn’s expression gave nothing away. He excelled at stoic.
“Commitment can be made without pen being put to paper,” he said. “Haven’t you and I made a commitment to each other in the deal that we made?” Though they had put pen to paper, their contract wasn’t quite the same thing as marriage. “Your friend gets her funds, you do as you’re told.”
While he appeared to enjoy his meal, she barely touched hers. Forcing herself to take a bite, she couldn’t deny that the food was good, but his last sentence roused a pertinent subject.
“What exactly will that entail?”
“What?”
“Doing as I’m told,” she said. “It implies instructions will be given.” A question mark loomed large. “Will they be about… sex?”
And why on earth did that draw her belly closer to her spine? Did more than that somewhere else, but that was the last thing she’d confess to anyone, including herself.
Another smirk. “You think the only instructions a man can give a woman are sexual?”
Pacing herself, she took another bite. “I think you have similar views on relationships to my father.” That slowed his chewing. “Bet you never thought you’d have anything in common with him.”
He swallowed. “I’d be interested why you made the comparison.”
“You have old-fashioned views,” she said. Meal choosing aside. “You believe in taking care of your girlfriend, like it’s your role as the male to be a provider. Okay, maybe, you don’t believe in marriage, but—”
“I didn’t say I didn’t believe in it,” he said. “It doesn’t suit my lifestyle. If I were in a less… privileged position, I would consider it.”
Or for business reasons. If he found a woman with more to lose than him, she’d bet he’d consider marrying her. This guy was a… hmm, language eluded her.
Given he still supported his father’s mistress, he wasn’t completely heartless and must have some kind of sentiment.
Yet, his aversion to marriage, or rather his reasons for being averse to it, suggested he could be quite calculating. No news flash there.
“What about romance? Do you believe in romance?”
“Flowers and sonnets?” he asked. “If you want flowers, you’ll get them. Jewels, clothes, whatever you want.”
“Hmm, to satisfy me, not you,” she said, linking her fingers and resting her elbows on the arms of her chair to settle back and scrutinize him. “I don’t equate romance with money. I’m sorry, but I don’t. This isn’t real, so it may have an unexpected advantage for both of us.”
“What’s that?”
She smiled. “Maybe we can be honest about what the opposite sex is really thinking without game playing. You and I are not interested in winning each other’s hearts.
Let me put it to you like this, at the start of this conversation you were more interested in looking at something behind me than at me. I value eye contact more than this.”
She touched the bejeweled bracelet couriered to her along with the dress and sundries.
“Perhaps, but you can’t show up to dinner in jeans.”
Jeans? Ha, hilarious. Like her mother would ever allow denim over their threshold. She was barely allowed to wear pants at all.
She wasn’t averse to playing a little. “I can’t?”
“The women I see make an effort.”
“To impress you,” she said, returning to her meal. “I have no desire to impress you or any man…” Though she had to concede with a shrug. “Which may be why I’ve found myself perpetually single.”
“Most women in your position would be spoken for by now.”
Popping a piece of fish between her lips, she chewed and swallowed, washing the food down with some wine. “I’ll try not to be offended.”
“Women in your position are either folded into the family corporation or happy to be trophy wives.”
“And I’m neither.”
“What is it you do want, Miss Sear?”
In the history of her world, no one had ever asked that. Just out there and… Now she was stumped.
He bought her some time by topping off each of their glasses.
Time to vamp. “In life or from a relationship?”