The Bachelor Contract(4)

“Funny, since women are so often beneath me.”

Nadine didn’t so much as flinch.

“Brant.” Grandfather’s stern voice sliced through the room. “Grown men would kill for what Nadine is offering.”

“Well, maybe that’s the problem.” A spark of evil ignited in Brant’s brain, and a grin slid over his face as he leaned forward. “You don’t treat me like a grown-ass man, so what reason do I have to grow up?”

After all, the one and only time Brant had stepped up to the plate, he’d been struck by a fastball and taken out of the game. Sometimes life is better spent sitting on the bench.

Grandfather’s expression of disgust was a clear indicator that Brant’s comment had hit its mark.

“Read,” Nadine barked, shoving the paperwork in his face.

Brant swallowed and reached for the portfolio, struggling to keep his eyes from widening as he read over the details. President of new resort acquisitions, six-figure starting salary, use of the company jet.

He had money from his trust fund and his job with Wellington, Inc.—damn, he’d been so naïve back when he’d started in the family business. Cheerfully grabbing his shiny new briefcase waiting by the door, kissing her lips good-bye, waving to the neighbors, contemplating buying a dog.

It had been a fantasy. One that had been ripped away from him without warning.

The last time he’d been truly happy he’d been sitting behind a desk, earning money for his family.

The family he no longer had.

His chest ached as the anger returned swiftly and violently—like it always did. God, he just wanted to be numb.

For a brief moment, he closed his eyes, his body tensing as he shoved the smell of her perfume, the taste of her tongue, back into the darkest recess of his mind, and focused on whatever trick Nadine and his grandfather were trying to pull.

Was his grandfather really giving up on him? When he’d fought like hell for both Brock and Bentley to get their shit together?

It made no sense. Maybe he really was a lost cause if his own flesh and blood was giving up on him.

Just like you gave up on yourself.

On her.

He shook the dark thoughts away. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” Grandfather said quickly, while Nadine sashayed to the front of the desk and leaned against it.

“You like bluntness, right? Honesty?” Her voice rose an octave.

Why the hell did it feel like he was getting scolded? He opened his mouth to respond but she beat him to the punch.

“You’re killing yourself, you’re angry ninety percent of the time, and you’re about to beat your own grandfather to the grave by way of the clap!” Brant jerked back as she took a menacing step toward him, hands on hips. “You refuse to do the charity weekend you promised you would do, making both of our companies look bad, and you refuse to listen to your grandfather.” A slow, satisfied smile crept over her face. His stomach dropped. “So now? You’re all mine.”

“Hate to break it to you, sweetheart.” He gave her his most charming smile. “But you can’t make me do anything.” Yeah, apparently he was six again, and losing the pissing war to a woman who had lived through the plague.

“Oh, I’m not making you.” Her smile was way too cheerful for his liking. “I’m presenting you with a challenge…and you’ll take it.”

“What makes you so sure?” His heart leaped in his chest as he said the words. It was either excitement or terror, he wasn’t sure which.

Her eyes softened. “Because you need distraction, and the bottle only lasts so long before it’s empty and you have to start all over again. You graduated from Stanford with honors—double majored in international business and resort management.”

“You’ve been stalking me.” He winked. “I’m flattered.” Keep smiling, don’t let her see that she has the upper hand.

“I need you,” she added. “And I think you need to be needed.”

The missile had been aimed perfectly—sailing toward its mark, stealing air from the room, making it hard to breathe as his chest tightened with the rightness of her words.

Damn it, she’d chased.

Pounced.

Won.

Because she was right. He’d been needed once. He’d failed.

There had to be a catch, a reason that Nadine was offering him a job that years ago he would have sold his brother for. He didn’t need money. But if working for Titus Enterprises got him away from every damn reminder of her, of his past, of the money he kept sending back and the promise he skipped out on, then he’d do it.

Driving by the hospital in order to get to his penthouse apartment, passing restaurants they used to frequent. Reminders of her were everywhere—of them, when they were an us.