I flagged down the waitress. “Can you replace that vodka tonic order with a glass of champagne? Veuve Brut preferably.”
“Of course.”
My point being made now, the rest of the dinner went much smoother. Marc seemed to reel his claws back in, and I found I actually really liked Abigail. She seemed to be a genuine person. I had to assume those were few and far between in this industry.
And, once Marc stopped egging Jensen on, they settled into some kind of routine. Just over dinner, it was obvious that they had known each other for a long time. I had to guess they had even been friends. I knew from experience that only close friends could speak without saying a word and laugh at implied jokes. Jensen and Marc had that levity—underneath all the animosity at least.
Despite how good things had been going the rest of the night, I was glad when dinner ended. We said good-bye to Marc and Abigail and headed back to the hotel. Our fancy suite was waiting for us—something I found extremely strange. I had lived in this city for three years in a shoebox apartment. We could have stayed at my place, despite the disaster, but Jensen had insisted on this. And I enjoyed the luxury of it. Who wouldn’t want a Jacuzzi to fit a party of ten and a full living room with a balcony? But it was also…strange.
“Glad I grabbed this dress from my place before we left or else I would have had to miss that really fun time,” I said with dry sarcasm, slinging my jacket on the couch.
Jensen ran his hands down my bare arms. He pressed a kiss into my shoulder. “I’m sorry about that. I should have realized it would be a mistake.”
“A mistake,” I said softly. He was trailing kisses up my neck, and it was hard for me to concentrate. “Are you going to tell me what crawled up Marc’s butt?”
Jensen laughed against my neck and then nipped me. “Besides the fact that I just bought his company?”
I swung around to face him. “It was more than that. I’m not blind.”
He nodded with a sigh. “You’re right. It’s a long story. You already know part of it.”
“We have all night,” I reminded him.
“Indeed we do,” he said, his hands landing on my hips and then moving to my ass.
“Tell me about it. I want to know you. I want to understand.”
“All right.” He took a step back and composed himself.
He gestured for me to take a seat, and I tucked my legs underneath myself on the couch. Jensen took the spot next to me.
“Marc and I have known each other a long time. We were always thinly veiled enemies but hopeful friends. Against his father’s wishes, he ended up at Texas Tech because of their architecture program. We were in the program at the same time.”
“You went to school for architecture?” I asked in confusion. “I thought you majored in business.”
“Yes. My father required I major in business, but I took architecture classes on the side. I believed, as did Marc, that business destroyed the soul, as we had seen it happen with our families. It didn’t build anything. It only tore things down. It never made things better. We were visionaries. We wanted more.”
“Yet you each run your respective father’s business,” I whispered.
“I knew I would always have a job at Wright Construction whenever I wanted it. So, post-graduation, I took an internship at an architectural company in New York for a year. Vanessa and I were engaged. My father was furious about the internship, but I had a whole plan. I was going to change the world.”
His eyes cut to me, and then he shook his head. He clearly hadn’t told this story in a while. “Anyway, long story short, my father died. Left with nothing but his disappointment, I took over the company and moved back to Lubbock. There wasn’t another option since Austin was still in college. Landon, as you know, was about to graduate high school. The board needed someone they could trust. They got me. Vanessa stayed in New York. She was…modeling part-time, and things were looking up. We got married that summer. She started modeling full-time, and Marc got my full-time job at the architectural company.”
I covered my mouth. I felt like I was watching a train wreck without knowing how to stop it.
“Wright did as much business in New York as I wanted. I could have flown there every weekend to see Vanessa, but I didn’t. I was engrossed in work and still grieving.”
“But it wasn’t enough for Vanessa,” I whispered.
His eyes were far away. “Never could have been. Then she ended up in Marc’s bed.”
I sighed heavily and leaned into him, wrapping my arms around him. “That’s not your fault.”
“No, it’s not. It took many years of therapy to realize that it was entirely her fault. She was the one who found solace with Marc. She was the one who could have stopped the whole thing, but she hadn’t. She’d wanted the visionary she had fallen in love with…but I wasn’t that man anymore. So, she’d settled for Marc in the meantime. Second best.”