“Should we tell him we understand him?” Bentley said out of the corner of his mouth. “Or just let him keep going?”
“I hear you!” Jean Paul stopped pacing then glanced up, his eyes hopeful. “I do have one suit left. It’s perfect.”
“Not to be a jackass, but you said that about the stripes,” Brock muttered, glancing back in the mirror and shuddering.
“Here.” Jean Paul returned with a black garment bag. “Very new, very classic. A black and white three-piece tuxedo with a black tie. The shirt is a white silk. I’ll admit the coattails are a bit long but I think you’ll find the cut agreeable to your full figure.”
“The hell,” Brock muttered. “Did he just call me fat?”
“Good thing Jane loves all sizes,” Bentley said helpfully. “Plus more cushion for the pushin’…right?”
“Please stop talking,” Brock pleaded while Jean Paul unzipped the garment bag and did a little ta da with his hands.
“Dibs,” Bentley called.
“Damn it!” Brant yelled.
“Guys, I thought we were here for me? Also: born first, getting auctioned off, you lose.” He touched the smooth silk shirt. This, he could wear.
A few hours later, he was back at his apartment, the garment bag hanging in his closet, the rooms silent.
He’d told the twins he wanted time alone, and now he was lonely. Imagine that? Idiot.
He was so damn tempted to just text Jane and let her in on his plan, but Jane deserved more than a text. He wanted to sweep her off her feet, surprise her, do it in front of the whole fucking world. And unfortunately her reaction had to be real—the plan depended on it. If it looked fabricated, people would accuse them of setting the whole thing up.
He picked up his phone and swiped past her contact, even though it made his chest hurt just thinking about the pain he was putting her through by not calling—and hit his grandfather’s number.
His grandfather answered on the second ring. “Son, you better be dead. I’m up to my earlobes with ball details. Everything has to be perfect as you know, and the media is in a frenzy over that kiss with the maid!”
Shit.
The media refused to let it go.
Which led to questions about the ball being rigged—which in turn had driven Brock to ask the notorious woman he’d just spent the last hour talking to for help.
Their plan had to look real.
He knew it, for the sake of the company and for Jane.
But that kiss.
He wouldn’t take it back.
He couldn’t.
It was everything.
His mouth burned with the memory.
“Fruit of my loins!” Grandfather yelled, interrupting Brock’s daydream. One more day. Just one more day. “You’ve caused more drama than the twins together! Childbirth was never this difficult.”
“Are you talking to me?” Brock asked. “And you didn’t actually birth the children, as far as I know…” He rolled his eyes.
“Good thing, or I probably would have given up and walked out of that damn hospital. Your grandmother was such a saint, pushing out God knows what through her—”
“All right, that’s enough bonding for tonight,” Brock said gruffly. “We need to talk about the ball.”
Grandfather sighed. “It is what it is, that is unless you have something on your mind?”
“Why?” Brock blurted before he could stop himself. “Why would you put the company before me? Before the twins?”
Grandfather sighed. “I guess I would have to answer with a question. Why, Brock, do you always feel you need to put me before you?”
Brock opened his mouth then shut it.
“That’s what I thought.” Grandfather sighed. “I’ve seen the news about you and the maid and yet I haven’t heard from you. Why is that, I wonder?”
“Because.” Brock cleared his throat. “I’ve found a way to have both.”
“Both?” Grandfather’s voice sounded like he was frowning; his brows were probably furrowing in confusion like they always did when he was forced to solve a puzzle that didn’t magically solve itself.
“Yes.” Brock chuckled. “Both. My family. And my Jane.”
“Your Jane, hmm?”
Brock closed his eyes and continued. “I’m keeping my word, to both of you, in the only way I know how.”
“Is that why you called?”
“I called to tell you that if it goes badly…if my crazy plan doesn’t work out…I still choose her.” God, it hurt. Hurt like hell to say that.
He sucked in a breath.
Waited for his grandfather to die.
Waited for the sky to fall.
Waited for an earthquake.
But all the old man did was sigh and say. “Well then. I guess that’s that.” The line went dead, leaving Brock to wonder if it was another omen for his future.
Death.
When all he wanted was a life.
Life with Jane.
Chapter Forty
The press attention was getting worse.
Well, what did she expect? The ball was tonight. Of course it was getting worse, with speculation about Jane being there even though she didn’t have the money to bid on Brock. There were also rumors that she was pregnant with his love child, amongst other things.