Brody, page 7
My gut says to give him a piece of my mind and tell him exactly what I think of the trail of broken hearts littering his past. My head says that’s the worst possible thing I can do, considering I came to his company asking for help.
Honestly, like many things, I overthink it.
My heart wants revenge, but Mom’s words run through my mind. ‘Revenge only hurts the one who seeks it. Don’t let revenge turn you into a hater. You don’t need that ugliness in your life.’
Her words are sound, but damn if I don’t want a little revenge.
I know Brody La Rouge. Women find him irresistible. At one time, that included me. I’d like to think things are different now that I’m more mature, that somehow the years between high school and now give me a better perspective, but I remember that undeniable pull when I saw him last weekend. It overwhelmed me.
Am I really ready to face him?
A little voice inside my head tells me it would be fun to mess with him. He’s a womanizer who always gets the girl but never keeps her. How can I turn that to my advantage?
I give a shake of my head. These are precisely the kinds of thoughts I should avoid, but damn if I can’t help myself.
The thing is, I’m way over my head with a man like Brody. I’ve done some digging since reading the email requesting a meeting. Bad Boy Brody, known womanizer, is evidently the catch of the century. He’s one of the few, unattainable, still eligible bachelors, wandering around the Bay Area, and his pockets are deep and growing by the second.
I dug up other things, like him being a workaholic with an unusual flair for investing in failing companies and turning them into exceptionally profitable business ventures. His determination and drive make all that possible. Not much seems to have changed from the Brody I knew in high school.
He was always driven to succeed—pushed in many ways to separate himself from his brothers. They were the undeniable power trio at school. Three identical triplets, insanely hot, incredibly talented in sports, and at the top of the class in academics. The La Rouge brothers were gods back then.
I suppose they still are.
CEO of La Rouge Vineyards, Asher La Rouge is not only making a name for himself in the local wine scene, he’s also a bona fide hero. Numerous articles speak to his heroics as an elite member of a helitack crew. I didn’t even know what that was until I looked it up.
Cage La Rouge is a highly sought after nature photographer. His photos are stunning. I lost over an hour last night perusing his work online.
Then there’s Brody, the brother with the Midas touch. He’s carving out an empire in the business world. Everything he touches turns to gold. I can’t help but hope some of that rubs off on Atwood Estates. We need a little bit of good luck to turn our way.
Which brings my revenge plotting to a screeching halt.
Nothing can jeopardize what’s truly important. My wounded pride means nothing when stacked against the livelihood of our workers, not to mention my uncle’s future. Atwood Estates has been his bread and butter for his entire life. If it wasn’t in such a mess, I’d consider his offer to buy me out, but there’s no way I’d do that to him. He could lose everything.
Sterling Enterprises comes with a stellar reputation in equity investments. I remind myself what’s important and shove all that other shit way back in the back of my head.
“Cupcake, you need to hurry up,” Uncle Mark calls out from downstairs. “Traffic is going to be heavy, and we can’t be late.”
“On my way.” I change out of the fifth blouse and throw it on the bed with all the other discarded candidates. The mirror catches my eye and I turn away from it in a huff. If I tone down my appearance, there will be no chance of Brody taking an interest. Not that he would, and why do I care?
I don’t answer that.
We’ll be nothing more than two people who once knew each other, and there’s where I plan on leaving things.
I examine my reflection one last time, taking in the light foundation that smooths out my skin tone. I avoid blush. My goal is to minimize my appearance and become as plain as possible. I sweep my fingers through my hair and decide to put it up for the meeting. There’s no time now, but I can pull it back into a tight bun in the car while Mark navigates the roads and heavy traffic.
I line my eyes and put on mascara, but no eyeshadow to make my eyes pop. I’m going for clean, simple, and serious. With Mark encouraging me to hurry up, I fly downstairs and strap into the passenger seat of his car. We head out of Napa and merge onto I-80, where we come to a crawl stuck in the tail end of the morning commute.
Nearly three hours later, we pull up outside an impressive building. It takes a moment to park, but then Mark and I stand on the sidewalk staring at the gorgeous structure. All steel and glass, everything about it screams wealth.
“Wow.” My head tilts back as I try to take it all in.
“That’s an understatement.” My uncle stands beside me and reaches out to take my hand in his. “You ready for this, cupcake?”
“I thought I was.” I gulp and shift my attention to take in his troubled gaze. “They certainly know how to impress.” I feel incredibly small and insignificant.
“Impress? This thing screams money.”
I agree with him there. From the ornate façade to the elegant lobby, this place is intimidating, even more so because of who waits for me inside.
Mark and I work our way across the expansive lobby. The interior of the building is hollow. A grand atrium takes up the entire center.
I can’t help but stop dead in the middle and let my head hang back. It has to be thirty, forty, or more stories tall. Bridges span the open space far ahead, causeways connecting one side to the other, and in some places, one floor to another. It’s a beautiful interconnected spider web of architectural genius.
Until now, I didn’t understand exactly how successful Brody was in the fascinating world of venture capital and equity investments.
“It’s now or never.” I glance over at Mark and bite my lower lip. Nervous doesn’t begin to describe my current state. I’m terrified of coming face to face with Brody. Although, there’s a good chance we’ve been assigned to a lowly functionary.
“Let’s do this, cupcake.” Mark takes my arm and guides me through the atrium lobby to a bank of elevators waiting on the other side. We walk past massive ficus trees, perfectly trimmed, that tower over our heads. A miniature stream flows between the gaps in the stone floors and spills out into a meandering pond filled with sparkling koi of every color. A food dispenser stands to the side. For a quarter, visitors and guests can feed the fish.
I take in a deep breath, realizing how remarkably clean the air smells in here. There’s even a slight breeze that ruffles my hair. I don’t want to think about what it takes to keep all this running.
Mark and I gawk like a pair of tourists as we make our way to the elevators. Steel and glass, like everything else, we’ll have an impressive view of the atrium as we ascend to the fortieth floor.
The elevator dings and we file inside, just the two of us. I go to the back of the elevator and press my hands against the glass, then spin around at the sound of Mark’s ragged breathing.
“Oh, no.” I rush to him and put a hand on his back. He faces the steel doors, huddling against them. “I forgot about your fear of heights.”
“It’s okay. My eyes are closed and it’ll be over soon.”
I glance over my shoulder, a little bummed to be missing the ride up the elevator, but I stay by Mark’s side. We’re in this together.
The elevator ride is quick and comes to a near motionless stop. The doors slide open and Mark exits the elevator in a rush. He tugs at his tie as he places a palm against the far wall. Head down, he takes a few breaths to calm himself.
Fortunately, the walkway is broad. I give Mark the wall while I settle in beside him, a buffer between him, the banister, and the forty-story plunge to the atrium. I want to lean over the railing and peer down to the lobby far below, but I hold back that urge.
“It’s right around the corner.” Despite its size, the building is exceptionally easy to navigate. “Looks like we’re in the wrong business.”
“No kidding,” he says. “These equity investors don’t seem to be doing too poorly.”
They’re definitely not at that. I have a feeling they’re raking in the dough hand over hand. Once again, I’m reminded of how small Atwood Estates must seem to these people.
I take a deep breath, fortifying myself for whatever comes next. We’ll either walk out of here with the funding we need to turn our business around, or we’ll walk out with our tails tucked between our legs as we contemplate bankruptcy.
We head to a set of massive doors marked with Sterling Enterprises on the outside. A receptionist looks up from a desk that spans the length of the welcoming interior lobby.
“Welcome to Sterling Enterprises.” Her smile is soft. Her teeth bleached white. Not a hair is out of place. “Mr. and Miss Atwood, you’re a few minutes early. I’m happy to meet you. My name is Katy. May I get you something to drink?”
I hold back my surprise that she knows our names, but then that would be something an executive assistant might do.
“Um, no, thank you.” My mouth is parched, but I’m afraid my hand will shake and I’ll pour whatever she offers all over my blouse.
“I’d like some water, please.” Mark covers his mouth and coughs. He’s still recovering from his fear of heights.
“Excellent. If you’ll follow me, I can take you to the conference room where you’ll be having your meeting with Mr. La Rouge.”
“Excuse me?” I stop in my tracks, nearly tripping over my feet. “Our meeting is with Mr. La Rouge? I thought…”
“Yes, he specifically requested to meet with you. I’m sorry, but I thought you knew?”
I knew there was a very small, minuscule, highly unlikely chance. I take a look at my reflection in the highly-polished marble walls and am thankful I opted for professional and plain.
“This way, please.” Katy ignores my comment as if it’s commonplace for us to be meeting with the CFO of Sterling Enterprises. Then it hits me. Fortieth floor, the executive level. I missed all the signs.
With my heart racing, I fall in behind Katy and my uncle.
“How was the drive into the city?” Her lilting voice, and cheery disposition, is perfect for soothing anxious clients.
“Not as bad as I thought.” Mark tugs at his collar.
Katy guides us deeper into the executive suite of Sterling Enterprises, exchanging small talk with my uncle. I trail behind and try not to gawk. The hallway she leads us down is wide enough to swallow our home. Impressive doesn’t come close to describing this place.
She turns a corner and presses a metal plate on the wall. Twin glass doors to a conference room slowly swing inward.
“Here we are. If you’ll just make yourselves comfortable, I’ll tell Mr. La Rouge you’re here. Like I said, you’re a few minutes early, and he’s with another client but will be with you shortly. I’ll get that water for you, Mr. Atwood. Is there anything else?” She turns to me with an expectant expression.
“Where are your restrooms?” I’m fighting a sudden urge to hurl. Not to mention, the nearly three-hour drive, with no pit stop, has taxed my bladder.
“Right next door. If you’ll follow me.” Katy does a mini-pirouette and spins around. Her overly enthusiastic voice is meant to welcome visitors, but it’s getting on my nerves. She shows me to the lady’s room and gives a little flap of her hand. “Have a great meeting!”
With those words of encouragement, she leaves me to refresh myself. I assume she’s off to get Mark’s water. Since we’re early, I don’t rush and take a long moment to stare at my reflection after washing my hands.
“You’ve got this.” I say it again, firmer, with more oomph. “You’ve got this.” I check my hair and tame the flyaways; then it’s time to head back and wait for Brody La Rouge to make his appearance.
On the way back, doubt creeps back in. I have no idea what I’m thinking, and I’m no longer sure why I’m even here. The fear and doubt I’ve been struggling to contain comes back with a vengeance. There’s a pit in my stomach and that queasy sensation returns.
This whole thing is crazy. I’m crazy. Brody La Rouge runs an empire of wealth I can’t comprehend, and I’m here to beg for help. How desperate does that make me sound? Certainly, not like some kid he used to know who’s talking herself out of a silly revenge plot.
What’s his interest in Atwood Estates? We’re such a small operation. Any time and investment his company makes in us will probably cost them more in lost revenue from the time invested alone. My hands shake and my palms are slick with sweat. I hastily rub them on the seams of my skirt and swallow down the lump in my throat. Whatever optimism I shared with Mark is gone.
When I return, Mark is seated at the large conference table. A tray with a pitcher of ice water and three glasses sits in the middle of the table. He looks out of place, shoulders slumped, features sagging, worry lines furrowing his brow. He looks up when I enter and smiles weakly at me.
“Have you ever seen a table this big?” His smile turns up into a grin.
I hold back a laugh because the table is massive, and to be honest, more than a bit pompous. It sits twelve on each side. Mark chose to sit right in the middle with his back to the floor-to-ceiling windows. As the only person sitting at the table, he looks like a little kid.
A massive chair sits at the head; a throne for a king—a Midas Mogul.
“It’s crazy, freakin’ huge.” I place a hand over my mouth and giggle. I can’t help it. “You’d think they’d put the two of us in a broom closet instead of this place.” A laugh escapes me as I start to lose it. Totally not professional, I imagine all manner of boardroom shenanigans that might happen on a table this big. “Do you think they use it as a Slip-n-Slide for the office Christmas party?” I move to the head of the table and glance down its length. Perfectly smooth, it would be great for a bunch of drunk adults to have a little fun.
I imagine Brody standing at the head of the table and other thoughts enter my head: filthy, dirty, naughty thoughts. I’m so involved in the fantasy that I don’t notice the sudden change in Mark’s demeanor. Instead, the atmosphere suddenly shifts, moving from my light-hearted comments to tense and anticipatory.
I feel the heat of Brody’s gaze lick along my back as the fine hairs at my nape suddenly lift. With a glance at him, I tumble into Brody’s turbulent gaze.
Eleven
Brody
Light, free, entirely unscripted, her laughter draws me to the room. Grace Atwood mesmerizes me with the way she stands at the head of the conference table with an impish grin on her face. I wish I knew what she was thinking because I’d love to be the reason for that much joy.
She’s here. She’s really here.
So close.
So fucking close.
She leans forward, splays her palms on the polished wood, and my mind turns the whole scene filthy. Maybe it’s not joy that I want to put on her face, but carnal ecstasy instead?
Absolutely, fucking filthy.
Thoughts of stripping her bare and grabbing hold of her hips make me instantly hard. It’s been a long time since something like this happened. I feel like I’m sixteen again, an eager little horndog with zero control. I’m actually a bit light-headed and sway on my feet.
I thought I was prepared. I thought this would be no big deal, meeting with her in person, but the whole situation slams into me with the weight of a sledgehammer, stealing my breath. I take a moment to recover—to get a hold of myself—and casually reach down to adjust my erection.
I fucking ache for her.
My teeth slam together as I tell myself to get a grip, but it’s only with great difficulty that I shove the overly-eager teenage horndog back where he belongs. Fuck, but I want to do terrible things to Grace Atwood.
When was the last time a woman stopped me in my tracks like this?
Never.
Phenomenal doesn’t begin to describe the vision before me. Her head tilts down, making it so I can’t see her face clearly. Not that I need to. Every delicate feature is indelibly imprinted on my mind and seared into my soul.
I ruined her and walked away, yet she’s the one I never forgot. She’s the mistake I wish I could erase. I’d been such a goddamn fool back then with far too much to prove, a reputation to uphold, and… Shit. I was such a fucking jerk.
It feels wrong watching her like this, like I’m a peeping Tom. I stand tall and push the metal plate that opens the doors to the conference room. They swing open, whisper-quiet. Mark Atwood notices me first. His eyes light up in recognition as he stands to greet me.
We don’t technically know each other.
He only knows me through Asher and La Rouge Winery. Everyone in town is familiar with the infamous La Rouge triplets, which means they often feel like they know us better than they do. I play along. Doing otherwise serves no purpose, but my attention fixes on Grace.
Like she did in the dusty field the other day, her entire body stiffens. I watch, with more than casual interest, as she schools her features to an impassive expression. Her gaze collides with mine, tunnels right into me, and leaves me staggering. It’s like the world shifts on its axis, leaving me reeling in place. I approach the table and grasp one of the chairs to cover my sudden uneasiness.
Her long hair is pulled up into a severe bun. It tightens her facial features, lending a hard edge to her expression. Or maybe, that’s simply how she feels about me. The desire to yank her hair free and let it run through my fingers overwhelms me. Her complexion is flawless and I love how her makeup isn’t overdone.
How many women have passed through my bed made up to the nines?
It’s like they’re afraid to reveal their face to the real world. Grace isn’t like that. Her makeup is light, minimal, elegant, and sophisticated. It doesn’t obscure her face. Instead, it highlights her natural beauty.
