“Jane.” He pulled out a chair; it screeched across the dirty tile floor. The man seemed too big to be sitting at her small kitchen table. He folded his hands across the worn wood grain, nearly ruining his expensive suit’s sleeve on an open packet of discarded soy sauce. “What would you say if I told you I’d give you a million dollars to never see my grandson again—the arrogant one, about yea tall.” He held his hand way up above his head and winked, his indifferent mask slipping to reveal a kind smile. “Carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, prone to barking, yelling, shouting.” He shrugged. “And those are just the positive attributes.”
Jane attempted a smile, but failed at even that.
“So?” He leaned back, the chair creaking under his massive frame.
Jane leaned forward and uttered a simple, clear “no.”
His mouth spread into a wide grin. “Money could buy you everything you need—including happiness. Soon you’d forget about him. It would be so easy, Jane. So very easy to cash this check. Brock doesn’t ever need to find out about it.”
“My answer”—her eyes never left his—“is still no.”
He tilted his head. “Two million.”
“Three? Four? Seven?” She countered with a proud smile on her face. “You can’t place a price tag on what I’ve found with him. And my answer is still the same.” Her voice was wobbly; maybe it was from the stress of the day or just the fact that Brock’s grandfather was trying to give her hush money.
A lone tear slid down her face. She quickly wiped it away and slumped back in her chair. “Sorry, it’s just been a really long and horrible day.”
“Some days…” he sighed, “are longer than life.”
She nodded. Suddenly she was so overwhelmed with exhaustion it was hard to keep her eyes open.
Embarrassingly enough, her stomach chose that moment to growl. She hadn’t eaten since that morning.
“Food.” Brock’s grandfather nodded at her in a knowing way. “Sometimes all you need is a full stomach for things to start looking better.”
“And here I thought it was time…or sleep.”
He slowly reached out and pulled the check back, then folded it and stuffed it in his pocket. “When you sleep on things, it makes those things disappear until you wake up, more frustrated than before. When you give them time, you allow yourself the possibility of hesitation. I don’t believe in hesitation, not anymore.” His face fell. “Action, sweetheart. I believe in taking life by the horns and maneuvering it.”
“Obviously.” She nodded toward the pocket he’d just stuffed the check into. “And what would you gain from sending me away?”
He was quiet for a moment, then said, “In order to gain you sometimes have to lose.”
“I refuse to lose him.” She stood. “I think you’ve overstayed your welcome.”
“Ah…” He stood. “I guess you’re right. An old man needs his sleep and a young woman has a lot to think about.”
She laughed bitterly. “There’s nothing to think about. I’m not taking the money.”
He ignored her, or seemed to, as he walked around the table and wrung his hands. “Here.” He reached into a separate pocket and held out a check. This one was written for thirty thousand dollars.
Jane frowned. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand?”
“Take what is owed you. From our original agreement.” His eyes twinkled as she touched the check with her fingertips and stared at it again.
“Oh.” He snapped his fingers. “And one more thing. I’m still auctioning him off, but that doesn’t mean you can’t bid on him and win. I think I’d like to get to know you better, Jane.”
Bitterness washed over her. “It’s ten grand a plate and—”
“Is it?” He grinned. “Imagine, ten grand. And look what you hold in your hand.” He shrugged his large shoulders. “If you really love him—”
“Who said I loved him?”
“You did.” His wise eyes didn’t even blink. “When you said no. Amazing the power that word holds…I think, no I hope, that Brock soon understands its meaning the way you have.” He hesitated but then took a step forward and kissed her on the cheek. “Good night, Jane. I’m glad I found you.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
He managed one day, one day of hell before Brock packed up his shit and drove into the city. The ball was the following evening, and he needed to talk to his grandfather. He still wasn’t sure how he was going to break the news or how he was still going to keep everyone happy and keep Jane. He just knew he had to do it.
Traffic was hell, so the drive took forever.
And by the time he made it to the Wellington offices, he was advised that his grandfather was out.
He wasn’t given a return time, or an address where his grandfather could be found, so he went home.
Only to find his brothers sitting in his apartment drinking.
Well, at least he was home.
“Dipshit!” Bentley opened his arms wide. “So, how was it? Tell me everything. Did you make love under the moonlight? Take long walks with Buttercup? Tease her mercilessly under the stars?” He smirked. “You’re welcome, by the way. How did grandfather take it?”
Brock was silent.
Brant rolled his eyes. “Told you he wouldn’t do it.”
Bentley looked like his head was going to explode. “You bastard! You had her! A beautiful, nice, funny woman who actually knows how to do laundry, and you passed her up? For what? A model?”
“Do I know you at all anymore?” Brant glared at Bentley. “You would do the exact same thing.”
“Right, but I’m me. This is Brock!”