14. Graham
GRAHAM
“Itake it since I haven’t seen you on the news being hauled away in chains that your fake girlfriend is still cooperating,” Aaron says dryly.
“Keep it down.” I duck my head.
The restaurant is crowded, and the bartenders are overworked and not paying attention, but still.
“It hasn’t even been a week, and I’m not going to survive Dani.”
Especially not if my stepdad thinks I’m the next serial killer he needs to catch.
“How long is this going to go on?” My brother frowns.
“Forever.”
“Forever like she wants you to marry her?”
“No. I don’t know. She’s…” I think about her in my bed, in the nest of blankets. “I mean, maybe it wouldn’t be that bad.”
Aaron’s hand comes down hard on the bar top.
The tipsy people next to us look surprised, then they take in our bespoke suits and million-dollar Patek watches and decide it’s better left alone.
“She is not in love with you.”
“I know that.” I look away from Aaron’s piercing green gaze.
“She isn’t grateful that you kidnapped her.”
“I didn’t—”
“You did. And you sound like Stuart. Grayson wanted to come, but I didn’t trust him not to slit your throat, but now I’m wondering if I should let him.”
I wonder about telling his brother what happened with my stepdad, assuring Aaron that I was already under surveillance, that nothing was going to happen to Dani.
But I’m on thin ice already, and I’m not sure Aaron would understand.
I shift on the seat. My older half brother is staring at me. He’s in insurance, and he makes billions knowing when people are lying or trying to get one over on him.
“Why are you still making her live with you?”
“I don’t! I’m not! Are you spying on me?”
“Grayson’s had your concierge on payroll for years.”
“God—” I blow out an angry breath. “I don’t want her in my penthouse, okay?”
“Could have fooled me, Ted Bundy.”
“Fuck you. I tried to get her to leave—she keeps showing up. She’s like a stray cat. She’s disturbed. She’s got serious stalker vibes.”
I look around the restaurant. “Are we ordering food?” I ask irritably.
Aaron reaches for the menu. “I thought they had more on their menu here—did they change it? We should have gone to Camelli’s.”
“No.”
“I thought you liked pasta.” Aaron peers where I’m looking.
There’s Dani at a table by the window. She makes a face and gives me a wave.
“You see?” I hiss to Aaron. “She’s stalking me. She’s obsessed with me.”
“It doesn’t look that way to me.” Aaron hums. “Considering she’s got her new boy toy’s hand practically down her shirt. Guess her Stockholm syndrome ran its course.”
“Who the fuck is that?”
“Graham…”
I ignore Aaron and stalk through the crowded restaurant, grab the chair of the greasy, aging hipster next to her, and shake him out of it.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Dani’s eyes go big and round. “You’re not—I didn’t want you to be here.”
“Why, so you can let some other guy suck on your tits? I know you’re sex-obsessed.”
“Why are you acting like this?” she demands.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were going on a date?” I counter.
“Because I was trying to spare you. So just take the win and go back to your boys’ night.”
I lean down to her ear, my voice low. “You wanted a date. You’ve got one.”
“Ooh! You have a brother!” The elderly woman at the table is blatantly staring. “I didn’t need to bring Piper a date after all! Your boyfriend is on his shit, Dani. Waiter, please bring this man a glass of your best scotch.”
“Gran.” Dani tries to protest.
I hold up a hand. “No, I need a drink.”
I’m still staring at her. Is it true? Is Aaron right? Is she over me?
I should be grateful. Should be dragging her out of the restaurant to make her sign the paperwork that will free me from her.
Instead I accept the drink that’s brought and drape an arm around her shoulder.
Mine.
I smirk at the hipster. “I think your services are no longer needed.”
The hipster’s not to be swayed. “I mean, which way do you swing?” he asks. “Would you be interested in a live-in houseboy? I bet I give better head than she does.”
“Yeah, but it just hits different jackin’ on a woman’s tits.” My palm comes lower, almost cupping her chest.
“The economy’s rough out there. Just shooting my shot.” He grabs the plate of appetizers, the bottle of wine, and his jacket, then he stands up.
“Are you single?” Piper asks Aaron with a raised eyebrow.
Aaron is staring at the scene.
“He’s not.”
“Grayson’s going to hear about this.” Aaron’s eyes narrow.
I’m really not liking that my oldest brothers are bonding over curb-stomping me.
“His girlfriend is a Coleman. He has higher standards than me, apparently,” I tell Dani.
“Well, la-di-da.”
“My father was a Blackwell,” the elderly woman across from Dani says, making threatening gestures with her knife. “And we held one of the Colemans hostage back in the 1800s.”
“Come join us for dinner, Aaron,” Dani offers.
“Yeah, Graham’s paying.”
“Absolutely not.”
“You’re not paying? But we just ordered appetizers!” Piper cries.
“Aaron’s not staying,” I tell her.
“I am.” My brother pulls up a chair.
“You really don’t have to ruin your dinner for this, Graham,” Dani murmurs.
“I can’t leave my girlfriend out all alone. What will people think?” I tighten my grip on her.
Click.
Piper lowers her phone. “Your mom’s going to think that picture’s not good enough for the Christmas card. Can you please not do that weird squinty thing with your right eye, Dani?”
“Piper!”
The other girl shrugs. “We have to give her something if Graham’s not coming to dinner. Hopefully a photo will put her off for a couple days.”
“Your parents want to meet me?” I ask.
Aaron’s raised eyebrow says, Over my dead body.
Dani draws back. “No! I mean yes, but no—of course I wouldn’t make you do that.”
“I don’t think you can make him do anything.” Her grandmother cackles.
“You’d be surprised.” I tug a piece of Dani’s hair.
“Ooh, your mom’s going to be so jelly.” The old lady cackles.
“Gran, please don’t rub this in Mom’s face,” Dani begs. “She’s already on the edge with all the wedding stuff.”
“Damn right I’m rubbing it in her face.”
“Your mom is texting me,” Piper says, looking down at her phone.
“You should have waited to send the photo.”
“She wants you to bring him for dinner Friday.”
“He’s your boyfriend—he has to come meet the parents sometime,” the man with all the tattoos says.
“And you met his parents,” the other hipster says. “Fair is fair.”
You can’t go to the home of people whose daughter you kidnapped.
But my dad did that. Or something similar. He went to one of the vigils. It’s the thrill of almost getting caught.
Aaron knows all of this, and he does not approve.
But better that it’s the thrill of getting away with it than the desire to know more about Dani—learn where she came from, see where she lives, meet the people who made her.
Because Aaron’s right. You can’t fall in love with the girl you kidnapped.
“I’ll go,” I tell Piper. “Text your aunt that I’ll be there tomorrow evening.”
“No, no, no.” Dani glugs too much wine into her glass. “This is terrible. Are you sure you don’t have a very long, important work trip that you forgot about?” Dani asks me.
“Yeah, Graham, are you sure?” Aaron says pointedly.
I shrug helplessly.
“He can’t bail out now,” Gran says. “Your mom will pitch a fit.”
“Why do you insist on inviting yourself over?” I hand Dani a glass of the wine she likes so I don’t have to watch her make that face and poke her tongue at the glass.
“Don’t worry, I’ll go back home to the rug in the dining room and let my mom wake me up at four a.m. because she wants to plan the dinner menu for tomorrow.”
She sets a canister on the desk, the bright-orange ceramic cat jar out of place in the muted tones of the room.
“You’re not allergic to nuts, are you?”
I pull off the cat’s head, thunk it back down, and make a disgusted noise.
“They’re from Costco.”
“Pistachios?”
“Look, mister. My family is very frugal, and they love a good deal,” she warns me. “You cannot show up just flinging your money around. It’s going to be home-cooked meals and nosy neighbors. It’s like Leave It to Beaver if it was fifty stories above New York City.”
I pace in front of her in my study as she talks.
“Now, my mom—she’s very into all her charity clubs, so really lean into that charity work you’re doing with the Haven Foundation.
And my dad comes from a trust-fund family.
Old, old New York money, so don’t make any loud noises.
Just nod and smile when he tries to give you something.
And Gran is… well…” Dani speaks rapidly.
“You met her at dinner. She grew up rich, too, but she likes to pretend that she’s from the Bronx.
But if you can just make sure that you smile and stay charming and don’t try to start an argument about ’70s fashion, then I think it should all be okay. It has to be fine.”
I can’t take it anymore, can’t stop the yell that erupts. “Shut the hell up! I get it!” I roar at her. “You think I’m not good enough for them. Trust me, though—I’ve had enough practice. I won’t embarrass you in front of your family.”
She gives me an odd look.
“Are you kidding me? You’re a billionaire—they love you.” She looks sad. “They’re going to think you’re too good for me.”