Chapter 17 #2
I roll my eyes. “You’re the hotshot CEO of the Whittington Group of companies. Your time is money.”
“And I was worried about you.” His tone is serious. His expression is grave.
Warmth coils in my chest. I can’t help but feel moved that he’s here and concerned about me.
Only, I’m not five. And he’s not the twenty-year-old who came to my aid when bullies teased me on the playground.
Tor would show up in his black suit like an avenging angel and glare down at the boys who made fun of my wiry hair and my being overweight.
It took one glower for him to send them scrambling.
They left me alone. And my brother became my hero.
He’d already started working at our father’s company by then, so he wasn’t around as much as my middle brothers. But he was the one we all went to for help, especially since my father was too busy running an empire.
When I told my father I wanted to leave home and strike out on my own, he threatened to disown me. I left anyway. My father carried out his threat. Tor tried to dissuade him, but to no avail.
Since then, my brother has made sure to continuously check in on me. He knows I won’t accept money from him, so he’s settled on ensuring that I’m doing fine.
My mother passed when I was five. I don’t need a shrink to tell me it’s one reason I turned out to be such a rebel.
Then at nineteen my father passed away, which made Tor more protective about us.
My brothers and I are adults, but Tor took it upon himself to become our de facto parent.
He makes sure to support us emotionally while expanding the company our father built.
"I really am sorry I missed our dinner." I rub at my forehead, wishing my headache would lessen. "It won’t happen again, okay?"
My brother gives me another grim look, then spins around and begins to open and close my cabinet doors.
"What are you doing?" I ask, bemused.
In reply, he opens a couple of the drawers, then holds up a bottle of Advil. He shakes one out, fills a glass with water, and places them in front of me.
"Thank you." I swallow the pill with some of the water and shoot him a small smile. "You haven’t said why you came here."
"I told you; I was worried about you."
"You could have called." I arch one brow. "What's the real reason?"
He gives me another of his looks, then props a foot on the footrail of the stool opposite me. "I have…a proposition for you."
I level a quizzical expression in his direction. "A proposition?"
He slides a hand into the pocket of his slacks. "It’s something to consider. And I’ll never push you to do it."
I tilt my head. "Sounds ominous."
"It’s not. It’s straightforward." My brother hesitates, which is unusual for him. A prickle of unease runs up my spine. The fine hair on my forearms stands on end. I push aside the foreboding that crowds in on my senses.
"It doesn’t seem straightforward, considering you’re trying to figure out the best way to spring it on me." I nod in his direction.
He raises the cup of coffee to his mouth, takes a sip, then makes a face.
"Sorry, it’s not the expensive-as-gold coffee, made from beans that nocturnal mammals shit out, that you've grown accustomed to," I drawl.
"If you’re talking about Kopi luwak that are made from partially digested coffee cherries that have been eaten and defecated by the Asian palm civets, then I’m not apologizing. I like my creature comforts. I’ve earned them," he says with a straight face, though his eyes gleam.
"Creature comforts?" I chortle. That was an intended pun. My brother has a dry sense of humor.
He glances around, voice suddenly serious. “You, too, could live in style and not in this—” He looks back at me.
I pop my shoulder. "I like my hovel. I earned it on my own merit, too."
The skin around his eyes softens. "And I’m proud of you, Pri. I knew it would do you good to earn your living and be away from the family money. But there comes a time when one must also deliver on one’s responsibilities to the family."
"You mean, like you are?" I tip up my chin. “Besides, our father disowned me, remember?”
“But I haven’t.” He tilts his head. “And neither have your other brothers.”
In addition to Tor, I have four other older brothers.
All of whom are protective. My mother was the only other feminine presence in the house.
And when she died, it felt like I’d lost someone who’d have been my greatest ally in that male dominated household.
Perhaps, that’s why I felt compelled to go out into the world to find my place?
Not that I've succeeded, yet. Is that why I empathized so much with Serene? At least, I knew my mother didn’t have a choice in leaving me. For Serene—she’ll have to grow up with the knowledge that her mother gave her up. Poor mite.
"I took over the family business so I could take care of all of you. It certainly wasn’t out of love for our sperm donor." His eyes grow hard, his lips firm.
Nope, there was certainly no love lost between him and our father. He expected a lot from his sons. Enough for him to be at loggerheads with my brothers.
"I assume business is going well?”
Tor’s features turn into granite. "Getting the board to embrace new technology has been challenging. Left to them, they’d run the company into the ground.”
“But that’s where you come in, right?”
“And you,” he points out.
My brother is ruthless, highly successful and used to getting his way. Another reason I’m intrigued by the fact he’s not simply commanding me to do whatever it is he came here to ask of me.
"You’re deflecting." I take a sip of my coffee.
He seems taken aback, then nods. "I am." He squares his shoulders. "I want you to consider an arranged marriage."
Surprise twists my guts. Arranged marriages aren’t unusual in wealthy families like mine—but I never thought my brother would suggest one.
He must see how taken aback I am, for he raises his hand. “I know. You didn’t expect me to say that, and I’d never coax you into it. It’s only a possibility I want to raise with you.”
I blink, trying to get my head around what he’s suggesting.
“I’ll be honest. You marrying this person will help me expand the Whittington Group’s market share. And again, I want to stress—” He raises his hand. “You’re under no compulsion to accept it.”
I shake my head. “Why suggest it to me then?"
“Because—” He shifts his weight from foot to foot. “Because I’m not one to pry in your personal life, as you know, but as your brother, I’m concerned that you are, uh—suffering from affairs of the heart and, perhaps, this might be one way for you to move on?”
I search his features, looking for any clue that he knows what’s occurred in my life over the last few months, but Tor being Tor, he gives nothing away. “Is this you making an educated guess, or—”
“It’s my summation, since you haven't answered my calls, and you missed our dinner. And now that I've seen you in person, given how bedraggled you look—” He raises his hands in a gesture that’s meant to convey that he was right.
“Thanks, big brother; you always were good for my ego.” I begin to pace.
This out-of-the-blue suggestion from Tor has taken me totally by surprise.
I don’t know what to make of it. On the other hand, it’s the first time in months I haven’t thought of Tyler, so there’s that.
I blow out a breath. But an arranged marriage?
Nah, that’s so not me. The thought is ridiculous.
Then, just for shits and giggles, and because I’m just a little curious, I turn to my brother and ask, “Who’s the lucky guy? ”
Tor seems to have been expecting the question because without preamble he says, “It’s one of the Davenport brothers.”