SEVENTEEN
SHE WASN’T READY.
She was.
They were.
Nope, not ready.
“Let’s go to a hotel,” she said, capturing his hand when the car stopped outside her parents’ imposing mansion. “We don’t have to do this.”
“What is your concern?” he asked. “That they will disrespect you?”
“I’m afraid they’ll disrespect you through me. I haven’t been in this house or with these people since…”
They’d gone official? Since they’d slept together?
“Don’t explain or apologize.”
Everything they’d been until their Jarrod deal was at odds. Spurns and Sears didn’t share dinners. They didn’t sit together around a table, break bread, in their private home.
Sears other than her.
She’d broken bread with Brogan in public and in private. In his bed. Without clothes.
And now she was bringing him home. The weird part of the agitation in her gut? It wasn’t for her. All she wanted was to be alone with him.
“Alone with you, I’m not afraid.”
“Alone or not, I’ve got you. Have faith in yourself, Irish. Use your fire.”
Again with the fire. How could he see it while she was blind?
This was easy for him. He was used to walking into rooms full of intimidating figures and still coming out on top.
That was alien to her. Coming out on top?
Ha, she was lucky to be in the room. And until Brogan showed her another way, it never occurred to her to question her parents’ reluctance to let her make her own choices and fly free.
File that existential thought for later.
All she could do was swallow and nod. They’d come all the way here, was she suggesting they tuck tail and run? Brogan Spurn was not a tuck tail kind of guy and she wouldn’t turn him into one. She was proud to stand beside him; if only she could be as worthy a person to stand beside.
His gaze was encouraging; it reminded her she wasn’t alone here anymore. Not yet anyway. In a few weeks this would be her life again. Maybe that’s what mired her mood. She didn’t want to be reminded of the way things had been and how they would continue to be after Brogan vanished from her life.
The driver opened the door to let Brogan out first. It was his hand that helped her out and upright. He tucked her fingers into the crook of his elbow and ascended the stairs with her firmly at his side.
The door opened as they reached the top. It was nice to see Twyla, a friend, but they didn’t get the chance to exchange words.
Her father’s body man stood waiting for them. “This way,” he said, going before she processed the command.
This was her family home, where she grew up, and there she was following someone as though she didn’t recognize it. She knew where every dining room was but played the dutiful role. It helped to have Brogan’s strength beside her.
The smallest dining room would have been best if they were only a party of five.
They bypassed that room to go a little deeper and into the slightly larger dining room that held a full bar.
That wouldn’t be why they were eating there.
Nope, it also happened to be where her father mounted and housed his various business awards. Turned out he really was that insecure.
With a deep breath that she didn’t let out, she crossed into the room where her father, mother, and brother waited, make that drank, where they waited and drank. Alcohol. That was more pertinent and a state she envied.
“You’re late,” her father asserted. Already the lines were chiseled into the harsh judgment on his stony face. “We didn’t raise you to be rude.”
“Contrary to how your parents raised you, Conway, I see.” Brogan wouldn’t let up an inch. Her father deserved to be called out and she didn’t have the courage to do it herself. “We are right on time. And if you want this night to be successful you will show your daughter respect.”
“Who do you think you are to—”
“We will be civil,” her father said, cutting off her brother. “Just remember where you are, Spurn. This is our house, not yours.”
“And Gianna is my girl, not yours. Disrespect her and I’ll dedicate my life to ripping your legacy to shreds.”
Okay, not the best, most jovial, start to the evening.
But hot? Yeah, it was hot. If only she could focus longer on that part.
Reaching for the positive? Uh… at least everyone was being honest. Did that count?
Only if it lasted. Chances of that were low.
Gee, that hotel sounded good right about now.
“Do we all have drinks?” she asked.
Though the family home had never been so unwelcoming, she’d got used to playing hostess with Brogan and learned a lot from Roxie’s charm.
Her family had glasses in their hands. The question was meant to move things along. It didn’t. The men still growled at each other. This was going to be a long night.
“If we sit, wine will be poured for dinner,” her mother said before she could break off to go to the bar.
Wine? Yes, it was her usual preference, but if any situation called for something stronger, it would be this one. Yeah?
Brogan slid her chair in under her, and she avoided eye contact with her relatives as wine was poured and appetizers served.
The lighting was low. Rather than create an intimate atmosphere, it was claustrophobic and sinister.
This didn’t feel like home, not like Brogan’s.
Here was oppressive and dark, she wanted to bathe in the light Brogan gave her.
As she laid her napkin in her lap, Brogan leaned in to murmur through her hair. “There’s a ‘45 Pinot Noir in the car.”
A whisper of a laugh curled her lips as she peeked at him. “There is not.” Challenging that, he almost imperceptibly crooked a brow. “Show-off.”
“Think I haven’t caught you eying it at home?”
“You’d get a helluva quid for that,” she whispered.
One corner of his mouth warmed.
“It’s rude to whisper,” her brother said from opposite her.
How fun it would be to swing a foot and whack his shin with her Spurn-funded Louboutin?
“It’s rude to interrupt a conversation,” Brogan said.
Her fingers twined between his on his thigh.
“You’re at a social function,” Bram said. “Share with the group.”
“Fair enough. I said your wine sucks,” Brogan said. “Gia has a nose for wine and particular tastes. Refined tastes.”
“Expensive is what he tells me,” she said.
“She doesn’t.” Bram scoffed. “Since when?”
“Color me surprised that you don’t pay attention to your sister.”
Man could deliver deadpan better than any person she’d ever met. Sarcastic, facetious, and cutting all at the same time. Shit, he brought out every primal feminine instinct.
“My daughter is—”
“You’re no better if…” Brogan sealed his lips and inhaled through his nose. “Apologies, I assured Gia we’d be civil.”
Only if they’re civil in return.
“Yes,” her father said. “Show some respect.”
“That goes both ways,” Gia said, fixed on her brother, stretching a false smile. “We can all be civil, can’t we?”
The silence was hardly resounding reassurance. Civil was a leap. Bigger than she’d thought. Eating was something they could do without communicating. No one uttered a word until the first course was replaced by the second.
“I have your card and present, Bram,” she said after the first few bites of the entree. “Would you like them tonight or tomorrow? How many guests are you expecting?”
“Did you hear if Zairn Lomond is back in town?” Bram asked their father at the head of the table like she hadn’t uttered a word.
“His office wasn’t confirming last I called.”
“Irish?” Brogan injected them into the conversation.
“He was on a plane last I heard,” she said, surprised but grateful Brogan nudged her into telling the truth while her family ignored her. “He won’t be back tonight and should be back in town tomorrow.”
“How would you know that?” her father asked, curious.
That her father didn’t have his finger on the pulse of “it” party society didn’t surprise her.
“Were you expecting him at the party?”
“He was invited.”
“Zairn Lomond gets invited to dozens of events he can’t attend,” Brogan said. “And if he’s been separated from his wife…”
“That is the clincher.” Her joy was automatic. “They do like to spend some time getting reacquainted.”
“Roxie would come if Gia asked her to.” Brogan picked up his wine. “Wherever his wife is…”
“I wouldn’t put that to them. I like seeing them in love,” she said. “They deserve time together too. They do so much for others, it’s nice to take the pressure off them when we can. Mister, sometimes when we haven’t seen each other all day we…”
And that thought would not be finished. They weren’t in love, but they could enjoy reuniting after a long hard day. Her family didn’t need the details of that and, luckily, they didn’t seem to be listening to her specifics anyway.
“You know Roxie Kyst?” Bram asked.
She shrugged, wincing at the pressure of her brother’s hard scrutiny. “Just a little.”
“Since when?”
“Gia’s spread her wings.” Brogan’s pride thinned his lips as he put the glass down again. “It’s been incredible watching her blossom.”
“You allow her to go to places like…”
“Crimson? She goes with her friends, yes. I don’t allow her to do anything. Gia is capable of making her own choices.”
“It’s easier that you facilitate them.”
“My joy comes in your pleasure.”
Oh, and that double entendre meant so much to her hormones. The Sears weren’t used to direct.
“It sure does,” she murmured, skimming a hand down his thigh.
They were together, next to each other, no accounting what that did for her brazenness.
“Gianna is not used to places like that. It’s dangerous for her to be—”
“No one cares about me,” she said, startling her father with the interruption. “Roxie is always around. There are celebrities, Breckenridges—”
“You’re socializing with Breckenridges?”
“Are we at war with them too?” she asked. “I didn’t know that.”
“Which Breckenridges?” her mother asked, showing her husband concern.
“She counts Zairn Lomond as a friend,” Brogan said. “And everyone knows Gia and I are together.”
“Zairn Lomond is married.”
Bram snorted. “Think that makes a difference to a guy like him?”
“Tripp has been nothing but respectful,” she said, looking each of her relatives in the eye.
“He is who you were worried about, isn’t he?
In Crimson there’s a community. It’s one of support, not debauchery.
I might not have been confident enough to join the main floor, or even the club’s VIP area.
Roxie grants a few select friends,” though “few” was relative, “to the Ruby Room. It’s her private space.
It’s perfectly safe. Zairn is very careful with Roxie’s safety. And Brogan…”
“Is very careful with Gia’s,” he answered. “She makes her own choices, and I’m happy to give her whatever she needs.”
And her head made that sexual too. Bad brain.
“She needs protection,” her father said. “She should be looked after—I can’t trust you with my daughter.”
That wouldn’t change a damn thing.
“Trust her,” Brogan said.
“To make good decisions about men? She’s not practiced—”
“She holds her own.”
Her exhaled laugh snuck out on its own but didn’t go unnoticed.
“Daddy, I appreciate that you worry about me, like you worry about Bram.” No, that wasn’t true.
She and Bram weren’t close to the same in her father’s eyes.
Maybe putting them side by side would shut him up.
“I love my life in the city with Brogan. I love where we live, where we play…” Okay, she meant Crimson, but Brogan’s horny humor was rubbing off on her. “My life is good and I’m happy.”
“Isn’t that what every parent wishes for their child?”
Happy. Brogan’s question slid by whatever came next. She was happy. That wasn’t a lie. She’d known it before but now she was saying it out loud. The way she felt about her life and her position, the only thing missing was…
Conversation progressed; Brogan and her father debated the finer points of a competitor’s latest deal. Thankfully. She needed the distraction while that sunk in. Happy at home, with Brogan. At play, with Brogan. Her world was wider and that was all because of him.