The Bachelor Auction(72)

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!”

They both glared at him.

“I haven’t had a chance to talk to Grandfather because he’s not in the office and not returning my calls. So I came home to shower and think about how best not to give the old man a heart attack when I tell him I’m not going through with the auction. I can’t do it. I won’t.”

“And Jane? How does she feel about all of this?” Bentley asked again, his voice grating on his every last nerve.

“She’s probably freaking out over why I haven’t called her yet, but I had to close the house down, traffic took fucking forever, and by the time I was able to even look at my phone it was dead.” Brock stepped around his brothers and made his way into the bathroom, bracing his hands against the granite countertop. He shook his head. “Why are you guys here, anyway?” He glanced at their reflections in the mirror. Both of them looked guilty.

Bentley’s throat worked into a tight swallow. “Grandfather said, and I quote, ‘You’re next,’ so we’re hiding….”

“Again.” Bennett sighed.

Brock’s lips twitched in amusement. He would have laughed had his heart not still been busy cracking inside his chest with every breath he took. He just wanted Jane. And in order to hold her in his arms he needed to figure his way out of this clusterfuck.

One of the twin’s phones went off.

“Holy shit.” Bentley breathed, and dropped his phone onto the glass table before running over to the TV, grabbing the remote, and turning it on.

Stunned, Brock could only stare as the news station showed pictures of him kissing Jane at the ranch. What was worse, he could see her name splashed all over the screen.

This image was followed by the sight of her horrible sisters.

His heart clenched and then a righteous anger, swift and strong, slammed into his body, making his blood boil and his teeth clench.

He’d pursued her.

And yet the reporters were making her out to be some sort of social climbing whore. The more he watched the sicker he felt.

“Turn that shit off. Now,” he roared, grabbing his phone. “Fuck!”

“What?” Brant stood.

“My phone’s dead.”

“Use mine.” Brant tossed his.

“I don’t have her number memorized!” Brock yelled, chucking the phone back at his brother. “Damn it!” He kicked the sofa. Repeatedly.

“Calm down.” Bentley held out his hands. “We can figure this out.” He motioned for Brock to sit.

“This is bad.” Leave it to Brant to state the obvious. “But we can fix it…”

“No,” Brock said in a hollow voice. “I need to fix it. There is no ‘we.’”

Bentley scowled. “Do you really think we’re going to let you go through this alone? When there’s a woman you love out there probably crying her eyes out because she thinks you’ve abandoned her—”

“Not helping,” Brant said in a low voice.

“Let me finish!” Bentley snapped. “Brock.” He knelt down in front of his brother. “Think. You’re the brains behind most of Grandfather’s asinine ideas; there has to be a way out.”

Brock sucked in a breath as the pressure of his family settled heavily on his shoulders. It was time to be honest. With both of them. “The auction,” He swallowed. “It’s for the shareholders.”

“Come again?” Bentley frowned. “What the hell do they have to do with anything?”

“Everything,” Brant answered for Brock, then took a seat next to him on the couch, his expression grim. “They’re pushing Grandfather out, aren’t they?”