I stare at him for a minute, trying to build my anger inside again to respond, and it does come, but something about it tastes of regret too. In thirty years of life, this is the first real conversation my father and I have ever had.
“Fine,” I say grudgingly. “It is good to see you.”
His eyebrow pops up. “Do you really mean that?”
I shrug. Things aren’t perfect between us, but it does mean something that he hunted me down. “Yeah.”
He pats me awkwardly on the shoulder, then steps out of my way to let me open the car door.
He starts to walk away but turns. “If I’m not invited to the wedding, I’d like to host a get-together afterwards at the brownstone. What do you think? Would Brody help?”
I will need to show Emmy off, so it’s pretty much perfect for my plans. I tell him that’s fine and get in my car, watching him walk away. He’s a taciturn man, stern, and decidedly moody. Like me. And he’s never married again, nor has he ever brought another woman around us. Maybe that means something, I don’t know.
I shut the door and hit the call button on the dashboard and hear the line ring for Brody.
“Hey, bro. What’s up?”
I answer, “You would not believe the conversation I just had with Dad. Also, I need you to help him plan a party after the marriage. Nothing fancy. Plain and simple. Can you get in touch with him?”
“You’re moving fast. I’m getting tingles. Sure I can’t talk you out of this?”
“Nope. Emmy is going to marry me. You’re going to get your money, and everyone will be happy.”
There’s a silence on the phone.
“What?”
He groans. “I want you to be happy. You.”
“I will be as soon as football season starts, baby bro.”
Chapter 13
GRAHAM
The night air feels thick with anticipation as I open the door of the Range Rover for Emmy a couple of nights later. She’s waiting for me outside her apartment, and I inhale a sharp breath at how beautiful she is.
Fierce.
Sexy.
And very, very unavailable.
There’s no option where I let her in close.
I simply . . . can’t go there.
I invited Divina into my heart, gave her full access, and she destroyed it.
That wound hasn’t healed. It’s a scar that still burns.
I’m not allowing anyone to make a fresh one.
But, damn, I can appreciate her beauty and take care of her the way a husband should. Protection. A home. She’ll resist me helping her, but part of me wants to see Emmy happy. Can’t deny it. Can’t explain why, but I’m trusting my gut on this and going on instinct.
I open her door, and she steps carefully into the car, her long legs delicately grazing the leather seats.
“You look gorgeous.” My words are husky and deep as my eyes eat her up.
“Oh. Thanks. Jane did my hair.” A blush steals up her cheeks as I take in her red dress. It’s silky, with one shoulder, a Grecian style, the clingy material skimming her hips and thighs. Her hair is up in a fancy updo, and her green eyes pop with dark makeup.
I get in on the other side.
She nudges her head to a lamppost down the street. “There’s a man there. He snapped pics of me leaving for work this morning and was here when I came back. Should I be worried that he’s here?”
I squint at the middle-aged man who’s trying to look nonchalant. He keeps his head down but gazes up at us every few moments as he toys with a camera. “I imagine it’s one of Holden’s guys. The family law firm employs several private investigators. And the engagement announcement came out already.”
She frowns. “Holden’s checking up on us?”
“Unfortunately, yeah. To make sure we’re legit.”
“Why does he care so much?”
“Because if neither myself nor Brody marries by the time we’re forty, then he gets our inheritance. That’s twenty million in his pocket, plus him gloating over it when we’re at Christmas dinner.”
She winces. “Your family sounds . . .”
“Horrible?”
She laughs. “You aren’t so bad.”
She truly is sunshine—with a steely edge. I pretend an aggrieved look. “I guess we need to give him a show, yeah?”
The air thickens as I lean over the console to her.
“Another kiss?” she murmurs.
“Hmm.” I touch the curve of her cheek, tracing my fingers over the top of her dress, my eyes hungry, my cock hardening.
“No objections?” I ask.
“None,” she breathes, and I pull her close, my mouth seeking hers. The kiss is soft and slow, full of yearning. For me, it’s the innocence in her I ache for, her sweetness, even though I know she’s tough.
I like her.
The truth is, I lust.
For her.
But I’m gentle, my tongue tracing the contours and ridges of her lips, nipping delicately at her lips, every nuance amplified as I stroke my fingers over her dress, grazing her pebbled nipples.
Our lips together are pure sin, and as long as I keep my feelings locked away, this is cool, fine, I can do this, I can kiss her, I can take her in my arms, and I can fuck her— Nope.
That’s a dangerous path, one I don’t want to travel down.
Take the path! the lizard side of my brain yells.
She pulls away, her thick lashes fluttering as she touches her lips. “Was he looking?” she asks.
I don’t even glance that way. I’m too busy staring at her.
“I’m sure he took pics. Let’s get out of here.”
I keep my gaze on the road, but it doesn’t stop me from inhaling her sugary-sweet vanilla scent. Then I shove it away and think about football plays. I think about how being on the field this week for practice has been good. She plays with the hem of her dress, and I glance down at her legs.
This heat for her is damn inconvenient.
Don’t want it.
Don’t need it.
I shove those thoughts away as I whip into a parking spot at an office building.
Emmy gazes around. “What’s this place?”
“I should have mentioned it earlier. It’s my lawyer’s office, David. He’s waiting after hours for us. We’ll get to Borelli’s on time.”
A little frown puckers her forehead. “Okay. Why are we here?”
“Prenup. A man like me doesn’t get married without one.”
Realization dawns on her heart-shaped face. “Ah, gotta protect those millions. I’ve never been wealthy, so I hadn’t thought about it.”
“Getting everything on paper is the smart thing to do, although money doesn’t make a person happy,” I say gruffly, my hands tapping out a beat on the steering wheel as I wonder what her reaction is going to be when she reads what’s in it. I called David earlier and adjusted a few items.
“It’s a cliché, but only people with money say that.”