Six
“Ihaven’t thought about it, to be honest.” Bran’s cool expression was the opposite of the lethal one he’d worn when he’d opened that closet door at the gala. Royce guessed his brother would rather not have this conversation at all, but he hadn’t left Bran much of a choice. Royce showed up at Bran’s house without warning, walking in the second the door was opened.
Over bottles of beer, Royce began the conversation by stating the obvious. We need to talk about Saturday night.
Bran tipped his beer bottle against his lips and sucked down a few swallows.
Royce pulled his glasses off, having forgotten they were on his nose since he’d worn them the majority of the day, and tucked them into his jacket pocket. “You’ve thought about it. I’ve thought about it. Don’t bullshit me.”
Bran scowled, the foreign expression now commonplace.
“You can’t stay mad at us forever. It makes no sense. Taylor is COO, I’m CFO and you’re the President.”
“I know our roles.”
“Soon one of us will be CEO.” A hush fell over the kitchen. They were in direct competition for it, but fiercely loyal to one another. It was a new dynamic and one Royce wasn’t sure how to navigate. He loved his brother but he also loved his father. If Jack assigned Royce the position of CEO, Royce would accept it. “You, Taylor, me. We’re all integral parts of ThomKnox. If the investors get spooked—”
“That’s what you’re worried about?” Bran snorted, his smile condescending. “Jesus, Royce. I thought you were seducing Taylor in that closet. It’s almost a relief to know you’re still a cyborg.”
“I wasn’t seducing her.” Anger pinged off his ribs like a pinball, but there was no sense in doing a postmortem. What was done was well and truly done. Royce would just say what he’d come here to say. “We’re going to make it through this. We’re family. But you have to have a conversation with Taylor that makes this okay. You were the one who nearly trotted out a proposal in a public place.”
Bran’s cheeks tinged red with embarrassment or anger—or a blend of both. He raked his hand through his longer hair and it fell every which way but back into place. “What the hell do you suggest I say to her, Royce? ‘Sorry you found out I wanted to marry you?’”
“Did you want to marry her?” Royce held his brother’s gaze, unrelenting. The proposal had been rushed, desperate. Definitely out of character.
“It doesn’t matter now, does it?” Bran hedged.
“She panicked. She was practically hyperventilating stuck in that closet. When I found her, she had this wild, frightened look in her eyes and was muttering about how she’d never expected a proposal after only a few weeks of you two seeing each other.” Royce lifted his own beer bottle. “She was hiding from you, Bran. Does that sound like a woman who would’ve responded well to your proposal?”
“Oh, so I should be thanking her for letting me down gently? Before I proposed and she publicly humiliated me?”
“Actually, yes.”
Bracing his arms on the counter, Brannon’s lip curled.
“The kiss was an accident.”
“Looked pretty intentional to me.”
It wasn’t, but it had awakened Royce’s dormant libido like the proverbial sleeping dragon. He worked constantly, content to be alone. If he needed a date for an event, he could find one—save the Valentine’s Day gala. He’d run out of time.
The dates he took to a function rarely turned into more. A few repeat dates, maybe. Sex sometimes—he wasn’t a masochist. But those dates were handled as efficiently as everything else in his life. The arguments were the same. He didn’t have time to date. Women took a lot of time.
See: the current situation.
“What I’m trying to say is that Taylor didn’t mean to kiss me.”
“She kissed you?”
Dammit.
“Did you...enjoy it?” Bran’s tone was curious.
“Of course not.” Royce forgave himself for the white lie he was about to tell. They needed to move forward not dwell. “She apologized to me after. She was flustered and embarrassed. I was selfishly glad she admitted it first because I was about to do the same thing. She’s a good friend, a competent colleague.”
“With a beautiful body and stunning mouth,” Bran muttered. But it wasn’t jealousy that bent his eyebrows. It more resembled suspicion.
“I’m not blind to Taylor’s attributes, but she’s not a good fit for me.” Pragmatism was Royce’s best ally.