THIRTY
THIS WASN’T A BAD party. It wasn’t the best one she’d attended in the last month, but she’d been to worse.
Gia sat at a table by herself with her back to the room gazing at the inky terrace windows reflecting the room back on itself. Everett had been attentive all night. It was nice to have a chaperone so she didn’t feel out of place. That didn’t change her being tired, emotionally and physically.
At the moment, Everett was dancing with one of his employees.
He was fair with his people, she liked that.
Other CEOs might see workers as beneath them.
Not Everett. This wasn’t a party for the bidders, it was a celebration for Gault Logistics and Distribution.
The meal tomorrow wouldn’t only include those who were going to bid on the takeover of the company.
Everett reserved the whole hotel to entertain his guests through the weekend.
He was generous, with both his money and his time.
She admired his decision to cash out of the rat race in favor of an easier life, sounded about perfect to her.
“Miss Sear.”
A server leaned down to put a drink in front of her.
“What’s this?” she asked, recognizing the drink.
“Quo.”
The server didn’t say that. The woman disappeared into the crowd, leaving a man in her place.
“Brogan,” Gia breathed out, too tired to have another argument.
“I don’t want to fight,” he said, sauntering over with his hands up to lower into the seat beside her.
“You don’t owe me anything,” she said, fixated on the Irish coffee on the table between them.
“I did a quick calculation and deduced the way I handled our break-up left me indebted to you by at least twenty credits.”
Too tired to fight it, she breathed out a smile. “You were drunk.”
“Slightly,” he said. “And you were right, as you always are, I did regret it.”
Scooping up some of the cream on her pinkie finger, she sucked it clean. “Breaking up with me on the phone?”
“I wouldn’t have been able to do it in person.”
Rotating the cup toward herself, Gia lifted it. “I’m not scary,” she said, enjoying a drink. He watched her tongue move across her top lip. Why was he…? “What?”
“Nothing,” he said and flashed a quick smile.
Oh, no, she knew him better than that. Something unshared was on his mind. Shame it was no longer her place to pry.
“Weird as this is, I… I’m glad to have the opportunity to thank you.”
“Thank me for…?” he asked, still intent on her mouth when she drank.
“Not putting a stop payment on the check I wrote for Shanna on Sunday.”
For a second, he just looked at her. Only when she raised her brows did he speak.
“You think that of me,” he said. “Your brother thinks the worst of me at all times, but I thought you knew me better than that.” Before she could respond, he carried on. “I didn’t know you wrote her a check. My team know those checks were given to you and why, all of them will be authorized.”
Despite implying it was accidental, her earlier meeting with Jenna hadn’t been coincidence.
“I should’ve been clear… I—upstairs, I gave the checkbook back to Jenna,” she said. “I went looking for her to return the credit card and my security pass for SG too.”
He winced. “Ouch.”
A laugh bubbled out. “What did you expect?”
“Sounds final.”
She curved her hands around the drink and took another mouthful. “You broke up with me, Mister. Final is what you wanted.”
Their eyes met, his smile faded as hers loosened too.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “It’s what’s right.”
Gia couldn’t break the stare. “Who’s the judge of that?”
He was just as locked in. “I didn’t want you—”
“Well, I know that now—”
“Let me finish,” he said. “I didn’t want you to be obligated to me for some deal.”
Raising the glass to her lower lip, she let the scent drift to her nose. “The deal was important.”
“Yes, and I’ll reiterate what I said about honoring my end. Putting a stop to your obligation was my choice and doesn’t diminish my commitment to you.”
Gia put the drink down on its saucer. “That’s exactly what it does,” she said, not really talking about his financial commitment to Shanna’s search.
And she was strong. Ready. Willing to keep her distance and a poker face—until he slid his hand over hers on the tabletop.
“I don’t want to argue, Irish,” he whispered. “Shit, baby, the last thing I wanted to do was let you down. I’d never hang you out to dry, you should know that.”
Her own hurt prevailed in her present view on him. Or her view between this conversation and their last.
At the start of this, she’d promised not to judge him based on preconceived notions. Experience brought them to this, drew them closer, deepening her trust in him. Just because he’d chosen not to be with her romantically, shouldn’t change her understanding of him as a good man.
Turning her hand so they were palm to palm, the warm slide of their stroking fingers was something she’d missed.
“I thought I knew,” she admitted, fixated on his fingers lacing between hers. Subtle, the action would be invisible to most of the rest of the room. How then could it be affecting every atom of her whole being? “You hurt me, Brogan. You scared me.”
“Scared you? Baby, how?”
“I thought you were a certainty, that nothing would… not until the deadline anyway. I was pacing myself for that date and then… I don’t know.
” This was wrong, she couldn’t sink into her delusions again.
Pulling her hand away, she tried to be discreet about rubbing it against her thigh in a fight to rid the tormenting sensations of his caress from her enlivened skin.
“You were right to do what you did. We were too precariously close to the line we weren’t supposed to cross—I was too close.
We were reckless and it was irresponsible of both of us…
We lost our minds…” She peeked at him. “I asked you to fuck me in the kitchen for goodness’ sake. ”
Where had her reserve gone? Her sense? Her upbringing?
“I remember,” he said, nothing about his creeping smile suggesting shame.
No, it was pleased and yet so feral that her own lips reacted. “Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“You’re thinking about it… about your kitchen… about… us.”
“No, I’m not,” he said.
Narrowing her eyes, she didn’t believe him. Was he teasing her?
“No? What are you thinking about?”
“I’m thinking about fucking you,” he said, boom, no big deal.
Except, uh, yeah, it was. She quickly checked no one was close enough to hear.
“Brogan,” she hissed, trying to hush him.
“I’m thinking about how it would feel to kiss you right now, to pick you up and put you on that table.”
Gia blinked, and when her eyes opened, the table was all she could see. “This table?”
“Might not be a good idea.”
Shock was so potent, she couldn’t even think about incredulity. “Might?”
He lifted a shoulder and scanned the table. “It’s lower than the island, not as sturdy.” His hungry eyes landed on her. “And the last thing I want to be is gentle with you.”
Her hand leaped to his lips to silence him. “Brogan,” she whispered, fingertips on his lips betraying how close she’d leaned in. “What is wrong with you? Why are you saying these things?”
Curling his fingers around her wrist, he drew her hand down. “Because losing you has made me realize there are worst things in the world than telling the truth, even if the words might be deemed inappropriate by some… There’s nothing I could say to you that’s inappropriate, as long as it’s true.”
“As long as it’s true?”
“The chains are gone, Irish. We’re no longer obligated to each other for anything. I’ll fund your friend’s search, not because of our deal, but because no amount of money is too much if it makes you happy.”
“I thought I was expensive. Always one cause or another.”
Slowly, the knuckle of his index finger touched the apple of her cheek, descending in an excruciating line to her jaw.
“You’re a woman who should be celebrated, for your heart, your beauty, your tenacity. I’d let you bleed me for every cent and still have faith your cause was true. You’re more worthy of the money than anyone alive and it’s always been my honor to share it with you.”
What was she supposed to do with that?
A shadow cast over them; Julius materialized, blocking them from the room.
“Much as I love this picture,” he said and rolled his eyes sideways. “You might want to break it up.”
Sliding back in her seat to see beyond him, her father and Bram barreled through the crowd.
Everett may have been lured into another dance with someone else.
He’d asked her several times if she’d dance with him.
She hadn’t. With Brogan, she’d become accustomed to not dancing at functions, now it felt wrong to consider it.
“Oh,” she said, panic rising within as she stood up. “Uh, thank you for the drink.”
Her retreat was thwarted by Brogan catching her wrist as he stood.
“Don’t apologize for us,” he said, as he had before. “Didn’t I teach you not to be ashamed of us?”
“There is no us,” she whispered, twisting her hand out of his grip. She wanted to flee, would, but something had to be said first. “Don’t lose sight of why you’re here. Everett likes harmony. Play nice.”
“With your brother?”
Touching him was instinct. Hopefully no one would notice her palm on his chest.
“Bram will try to provoke you, is trying to provoke you, because it will hurt you. Don’t be stupid, Mister, use your head.
” His attention drifted, she could almost feel her family bearing down on them and tugged his jacket.
“Look at me, Brogan.” It was probably her tone that dropped his eyes to hers.
Stern wasn’t her natural state, still, she gave it a shot.
“Use your goddamn head.” After looking into him for another beat, she blinked around to Julius. “Do not let him screw this up.”
Spinning around, she went to her brother and father as fast as she could, meeting them fifteen feet away, putting a hand on each of them.
“Where are you going?” she asked them both.
“That fucker—”
“Is nothing to do with you, Bram,” she said. “If you make a scene, you’ll just look like an idiot. You don’t want to confirm the room’s suspicions about you, do you?”
She didn’t even care if her brother was offended and mocked his expression of surprise by copying it.
“Gianna,” her father berated.
“I’m going to bed,” she said without waiting to hear what else he had to say.
Bram grabbed her upper arm. “What about Gault?”
Dropping her head to the side, she peered up at her brother.
“What about him?” she asked and stepped back to fold her arms. “I’ve had a few drinks, but I’m not drunk enough to go to bed with a man I only met today, if that’s what you were hoping.
” She wasn’t sure he was listening, because his focus ascended in increments until he was glaring over her head.
No need to check the identity of his disgust’s target.
“You know, I’m contrary enough that I might take your revulsion as a challenge, big brother. ”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means if you keep looking at my ex-boyfriend that way, I might be inclined to get him drunk and take advantage. Think that would cause a stir around here? Would your buddy Gault like that?”
“I told him to stay away from you,” Bram barked.
“That’s not up to you.” She jabbed a thumb over her shoulder in Brogan’s direction. “You want me to turn around and offer myself to him?”
“You wouldn’t!”
“Yes, I would,” she said, tired of her brother’s attitude.
He’d been so smug all day and she’d had about enough of it.
“I can just shout it out. You think any of these hundred or so people will notice if I invite him to my room for sex? I wouldn’t have to shout that loud.
You think Everett would like that? What would be worse for you, Bram?
Brogan saying yes or publicly rejecting me?
Hmm? Either way it would be a good show, wouldn’t it? ”
“You’ve screwed up this family enough already. You better be damn ready to do whatever Gault wants if it gets us this deal,” Bram growled.
“Enough the two of you, for crissakes,” her father said. “Gia go to your damn bed, we’ll talk to Gault. Be up early tomorrow, have breakfast with him.”
“I have plans,” she said.
Her father bent to get closer. “I don’t give a damn if it’s your wedding day, you’re going to have breakfast with Gault in his private suite. Do not forget what’s riding on this.”
For her or for them?
Holding onto her frustration, she nodded. “Fine,” she said. “Goodnight.”
Her father pushed her toward the door. “Goodnight.”
After a few paces, instinct prompted her to glance over her shoulder. Oblivious, her family whispered to each other, but it wasn’t them she sought. Brogan, he was the one, and he was looking straight at her. Julius was at his side, not that he noticed. Brogan was fixated on her.
Grief twined with danger. Over. Why couldn’t she let go?
Picking up speed, eager to get to her bed, speaking to Brogan had increased her building confusion.
Was it over? Before tonight, she’d been sure. Now…? Did he want her? This whole damn thing was a mess.