Chapter 38
THIRTY-EIGHT
brODIE
My phone vibrates in my pocket.
Discarding the glass of champagne I’ve been holding but not drinking—because honestly, champagne tastes like a hangover in a fancy-ass glass—I swipe open my email.
Simone’s name sits at the top.
Brodie. Your article on Hall Eight will be in print Sunday. It’s good.
Your new contract is attached.
Congratulations.
I open the attachment.
Features reporter. In my name.
Holy shit. I grab my champagne and down it in one, a huge grin eating up my face.
“Don’t tell me you actually like that shit.” Brock sidles up, leaning against the bar.
“No. It’s gross. But I just got some good news.” I show him my phone.
“No shit, that’s awesome, little bro.” He turns and signals to the guy working the bar and two more glasses of champagne appear. He shrugs. “Fuck it. Guess we’re celebrating.”
Clinking my glass with his, we both knock them back with a grimace.
“Keep drinking like that and you’ll be hurling your guts up later. Champagne’s the devil’s spawn.” Kendall flanks my other side, looking a tad awkward in his dress uniform.
I chuckle at our shared hatred of champagne and then fidget with my own outfit, a sleek black hire tux. I’m not entirely comfortable dressed like a penguin, but Savannah didn’t seem to notice when I picked her up. She dragged me straight into her bedroom.
I flush at the memory and turn to Kendall. “I’m celebrating. My feature on Eight’s going to print. Sunday.”
Kendall smiles. Or at least, he smiles in the way only he can, like he’s the one who’s overdone the champagne.
“That’s great news, Brodie. One step closer and all that.
” His hand lands on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze, and then he wanders over to the table where Trip, Romeo, and Choke are playing some kind of hand-slapping game.
Coming to the gala wasn’t a straightforward choice, but it felt like the right thing to do.
For Savannah. And Eight. We haven’t told the crew why her father has invited them.
Instead, we bribed them with the offer of free booze, free food, and some community networking.
Problem is, while these guys are the best at putting out fires, they’re not really in their element schmoozing with the city’s bigwigs in the chic Fairmont Pacific Rim.
Guess that’s why they’re playing games like a gang of teenagers.
Brock sighs next to me.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing.” He casts an edgy look around the room. “Where did the girls go?”
“Which girls are you talking about, big bro?”
He glares at me. “You’re a fucking asshole.”
I have no idea what happened at Mom and Dad’s two nights ago.
Brock won’t talk about it and although I’m pretty sure Savannah knows, some kind of girl code between her and Nix means she’s also not giving up the deets.
But whatever happened, it has Brock spooked, which, to be honest, is entertaining for me.
“They’re in the washroom.” I bump his shoulder. “Ready to fess up? You. Nix. Your tighty whities?”
“Fuck’s sake.”
“Okay. Noted.” I smirk but it immediately evaporates as a flash of silver catches my eye.
Unlike me, Savannah looks way more at home all glammed up in a full-length silky gown, her hair styled in sleek waves, skin radiant and her eyes all smoky. Yep. Even though I’ve been looking at her all night, my tongue is once again hanging out.
Brock elbows me. “Down, boy. Not long and you can take her home. And if your feature’s being published Sunday, that’s only three days until Kendall won’t care you’re boning her.”
I scowl at him, which helpfully replaces my googly eyes as Savannah wanders over. She keeps her distance, tucking in next to Brock like he’s a shield. As if getting too close to me means clothes will fly. Then Nix joins, also on fire in some lacy black number.
Brock visibly melts.
She glances at him and then looks away, definitely blushing. “We should head back to our seats. Mr. Archer’s about to speak.”
I chuckle at Nix and Brock in full high school mode and then lead us to our table.
Right on cue as a spotlight lands on the stage.
Mr. Archer looks way more put together than he did yesterday, every inch the billionaire mogul in a bespoke tux that oozes money. Standing stock-still, he commands the room with that magical kind of power unique to the uber rich, drawing everyone’s focus to him.
Tapping the microphone, he takes a measured breath and begins speaking.
“Fifteen years ago, the love of my life was lost to a fire and my heart has remained broken ever since. But this week, something happened to shift my perspective on those events years ago. Something that shone an important light on the work done by a group of people who truly are heroes. For a long time, I’ve sought retribution for Elena’s death.
It was easier to throw out blame than accept the unexplainable.
Fate. Terrible luck. Simply an awful accident.
None of those made sense. Human error. Choice.
Weakness. Well, I can do something about that.
I can take back control.” He pauses, holding the moment.
“However, yesterday I spoke with someone who was present at that fire. The lieutenant in charge. He told me about the young firefighter who also lost his life, doing everything he could to save my wife, and something fell into place. Blame. Bitterness. Accusations. They won’t bring Elena back.
All they’re doing is further shrouding her bright light in darkness. ”
He pauses again, showing the briefest flicker of his vulnerability as his eyes land on our table.
“You may have noticed that we have some guests with us tonight: crew from Fire Hall Eight, based in the city’s West End.
And there’s one very special member of that crew who I need to say a few words about.
A few months ago, my beautiful, fearless daughter left the picture-perfect career path laid out for her as my successor and joined the fire department. ”
There are gasps around the room. Heads turn in Savannah’s direction. Her wide eyes meet mine and I do everything I can to provide her with the comfort she’s seeking. As if Brock can read my turmoil at being on the wrong side of the table, he places his hand on hers.
“Savannah was in the same fire that took Elena. She has lived her entire life since without her mom by her side, weighed down by a blanket of guilt that she survived when her mother didn’t.
Yet somehow she has become more like Elena with every passing day.
The same fierce protection of others. The same resilience in the face of challenge.
And the only person who has ever had the guts to stand up to me.
” That gets a ripple of laughter, the mood lifting a fraction.
“And it’s thanks to Savannah that I realized who the recipient of this year’s Arch Holdings charitable donation should be.
” Mr. Archer nods and someone appears by his side holding one of those giant checks like people get when they win the lottery.
He then returns his focus to our table. “I’d like to invite Captain Bob Kendall of Hall Eight to the stage. ”
Kendall balks, his eyes like tennis balls as everyone in the room zones in on him. He gives a small cough and stands, weaving to the stage, all the while fidgeting with his cuffs.
Mr. Archer shakes his hand. “Please accept this donation on behalf of Vancouver’s Fire Department.
A small gesture to help our city’s community fire halls.
Without you folks working tirelessly in among us, the city would be a far more dangerous place.
Thank you. And thank you all for coming tonight. ”
He turns the check around to reveal it’s made out for five hundred thousand dollars.
Kendall pales and then we’re graced with another of his awkward smiles as he and Mr. Archer pose for photographs while Brock and the others join them.
I continue watching as Mr. Archer leaves the stage, ever the professional, schmoozing, shaking hands, working the room, but his eyes keep darting in our direction. Turning, I realize Savannah’s still sitting. Looking shell-shocked. Uncertain.
Switching seats, I tug my chair as close as I can without making it look like something’s going on between us. “Hey.”
She meets my gaze, unshed tears glistening in her eyes. “Hey.”
“Well done on not crying.”
“I can’t. This makeup will ruin my face in seconds.”
“Nothing could ruin your face.” I place my hand on her knee under the table.
She inhales sharply. “Did you know our dads spoke?”
“Not a clue. Sounds like it went well though.”
She nods, watching her father.
“You should go speak to him.”
“I…” She draws her hands together in a bind, staring at them intently. “Really?”
“I’m not saying tonight solves it all, but it does go a long way toward making things better. I really think he meant every word up there. He loves you, Savannah.”
“It’s going to take more than that for me to get over all of this.”
“I know.”
She sighs. “Maybe I can just go and say thank you, and then we can leave.”
“You want to go home?”
“Yeah.” Her eyes fall to my mouth. “It’s driving me insane not being able to touch you.”
I chuckle, running my hand over her thigh, the silk of her dress sliding under my palm. “You can always touch me under the table.”
“Brodie.” She glares at me and then stands, smoothing her dress over her curves. “Meet me by the exit.”
“Yes, boss.”
She rolls her eyes and then she’s sashaying between the tables to her dad.
He sees her, his gaze darting to me and then back to Savannah before he guides her to the edge of the room.
I continue watching as Savannah speaks, then her father.
Then his hand is touching her arm. And then she’s in his embrace, slightly awkward, her head resting briefly on the shoulder of his tux.
I exhale. Tension I hadn’t even realized I was carrying easing from my neck. They’re going to be fine. Eventually. And despite all his bullshit, I’m relieved for her. Maybe this really is the start of a new chapter for them.
I push back from the table as Savannah turns to the exit.
Stalking after her, my heart rate ramps up a notch. After all we’ve been through this week, spending the night at an enforced distance is only making things more combustible between us. Provoking the fire. Playing with it. We definitely need to get the fuck home.
When I reach the door Savannah doesn’t speak.
She doesn’t even look at me. Grabbing my hand, she drags me from the banquet hall and down the corridor, where she opens another door, this one leading to a small intimate meeting space.
There are no windows. The only light is from a low safety bulb buzzing quietly with its orange glow.
She hustles me inside and turns the lock, shutting us in. “I can’t wait. Need you now.”
“What is this place?”
“A meeting room. Found it when I went to the washroom with Nix.” She steps to the table, sliding up her skirt and sitting in front of me, legs wide.
She isn’t wearing underwear.
My pulse jacks hard at the base of my throat. I step to her, grasping at her jaw. “I’ve wanted to kiss you all fucking night.”
“So fucking kiss me then.” She fights my grip, chasing my mouth with hers.
“Your mouth isn’t top of my kissing list.”
A whimper escapes her and I release my hold, falling to my knees at her feet. She’s splayed out in front of me, the silver silk of her dress billowing around her.
“You’re perfect, Savannah. So perfect.” I nibble and lick my way all along the inside of one thigh before repeating my journey over her other leg.
Her moans grow, her body seeking my mouth. I lay my palm flat on her stomach to hold her locked as my tongue teases gently at her clit.
“Fuck, Brodie. More. I need more.”
“I’ve got you.” I whisper against her, kissing and licking between the words as I use my other hand to tease at her entrance, slipping two fingers inside.
She writhes against me. “Close. So close.”
With my hands still possessing her, one holding her, the other spearing into her, I continue to whisper between my licks and sucks and kisses, words falling unfettered from my mouth. “You’re my world, Savannah… My everything… Never going to stop needing you…” I flatten my tongue and devour her.
Her orgasm hits violently, her body thrashing against the table. I hold her there, steady, slowly guiding her back down to earth before sitting on my heels and straightening her dress.
She looks down at me, her face radiant and eyes sparkling.
I can’t help but smile. “What?”
She blinks, tugging her full lower lip between her teeth. “Have I told you how much I love you?”
I grin. Her saying that is something else. “How much?”
She smiles. Sexy and satisfied. “So fucking much.”
“Good. Because I love you so fucking much too.” I stand, my heart thudding, and pull her into my arms.