“They can wear whatever they want as long as they aren’t naked.”
And there it was. Brock, of course, needed to match his grandfather because he was a carbon copy. But the twins? They could do whatever the hell they wanted! Granted, a part of him knew his wasn’t a fair assessment; his grandfather just didn’t want to deal with the twins.
“Is something wrong? You’re more quiet than usual,” Grandfather asked with another sniff.
Brock sighed. “Nothing, I just…I was thinking. The auction is a great idea, for charity, but you were kidding about me actually marrying one of those women…right? I mean I know that the press took that idea and ran with it but…” Please laugh, please laugh.
Grandfather laughed.
Brock exhaled loudly.
“I thought you understood how this was going to work,” Grandfather said quickly.
The sense of dread was back. “I assumed from the notes last week that the auction is going to take place halfway through the dinner at the ball. You’ll pick from one of the five women who bids the most. I go out on a date with them, take pictures, and…” He gulped. “We get good publicity. The shareholders get to see us as a united front, the press goes wild, and everyone wins. I didn’t think, I mean…marriage…”
“Of course you won’t have to marry right away! But you never know. You may fall for one of the girls. The media is having a field day about where you’ve gotten off to, so everything is working according to plan.” Grandfather lowered his voice. “Brock, I’m not trying to upset you, but things could get bad…”
Brock gulped and closed his eyes. “How bad?”
“If I die—”
Brock inhaled sharply. “Are you sick?”
“Not now.” Grandfather sighed heavily. “But if I die and you and your brothers aren’t cemented within the company, the shareholders will push you out. Right now the only thing keeping them satisfied is the publicity the auction is bringing in and the idea that Wellington Incorporated and Titus Enterprises could one day merge.”
Brock wasn’t so sure how he felt about any potential merger with a company that up until now had always been a complete pain in the ass. Grandfather kept on talking. “The auction is a show of good will. Besides, you aren’t seeing anyone. You have to marry someone eventually.”
Brock rolled his eyes. “I’m a person. With feelings. I want to marry a person I have actual feelings for.”
Grandfather gasped. “I’ve never heard you admit to such a thing. What is this really about?”
Brock stared back at the house then kicked at the dirt. “A kiss.”
With a curse, his grandfather spoke clearly into the phone. “Well, best push that kiss and any others out of your head. A kiss is a kiss, and what you do with your time until the ball is fine, as long as it doesn’t affect our company’s image. This is front-page news. The last thing we need is for the media to catch wind that you’re kissing the maid. That type of news is not what the shareholders need to see. Do you understand?”
History was repeating itself.
The way it tended to do.
The “no” was on the tip of his tongue, ready to slide forward, but at the last minute Brock retracted and uttered the dreaded, “Yes sir.”
Only this time. It was a total lie.
He understood, all right. He understood that no matter what he said, he wouldn’t win, and the fear of saying no still made him want to puke, so he said yes.
But he didn’t mean it.
“Good boy. You always were the serious one, the one who understood how important our reputation is to the company. My father started this company with his bare hands! I can’t”—his breath hitched—“I can’t imagine it going into anyone else’s hands but yours. I know I’m hard on you, but it’s because I see so much of myself in you.”
“Right.” The more his grandfather talked, the sicker he felt. It was such a backhanded compliment, because all he’d ever wanted was his grandfather’s happiness. It had almost always been at the expense of his, but he knew in his heart that his grandfather only wanted the best for him. The problem was, they had very different definitions of “best.” “I need to go.”
“Me too. See you in two weeks!”
Brock stared at his phone.
Slid it into his pocket.
Eyed the cock, and almost asked the damn bird to just end him.
Buttercup nuzzled Brock’s neck as if she understood exactly what pained him.
If his grandfather ever found out what Brock had planned for the next few weeks, he’d shoot him.
But with each step he took toward the house, he realized fully that he was walking toward something he wanted. Not something his grandfather wanted for him.
And it felt good.
Empowering.
Even if he still hadn’t been able to utter “no” to his own Grandfather—his heart still screamed “yes” to Jane.
And for now, it had to be enough.
*
When Brock stepped into the kitchen, all heads turned toward him.