Brett slides close and his woodsy cologne mixed with his clean linen smell invades my senses. I press even closer, watching his hand walk up my thigh and spread apart the split in my dress. His fingers trace the edge of my stockings, where the black card I tried to use moments ago is tucked.
“What went on back there, Brielle?” he presses as his fingers tease the fragile lace.
“Greta seemed displeased with me,” my tone is as dry and curt as hers was. “Maybe she wanted what I got?” I taunt playfully, reaching my hand up to the back of his head to let my fingers sink into his silky hair.
“Bunny is there something going on? Is there something I can do?”
Brett seems genuinely concerned and it both endears me and angers me. I am not a woman who likes to depend on others. Even though I have always depended on my father’s money, I earned it my own way. I did research and development in the field whenever we were chasing down another cause. I delivered legitimate data to my brother and cousins that had helped broaden our reach to South America, Australia, and parts of New Zealand.
“Last time I spoke with my father,” I start cautiously, “he was on a kick about me coming back home. Settling down. Giving him grandbabies. I told him none of the above was going to happen.”
We roll through the streets of Driftwood, the cool night lit with a canopy of twinkling stars. Holiday lights have already begun to glitter on Main Street with plenty of homes decked out like adorable gingerbread houses. It is my first winter here in Driftwood and the first holiday me and the girls have stayed in one place long enough to celebrate.
Lennon and I share an adorable little place on the edge of town. We decided just this week that we were going to put up a Christmas tree this weekend. It is the first time we have settled anywhere for long, so we are all excited about a real small-town holiday season. I told my father I would not be coming home anytime soon—if ever.
As if he can hear me being rebellious, my phone rings with my father’s number lighting up the screen. I am tucked close againstBrett when I realize his calls always make me anxious. He makes me feel worthless when he compares me to my brother. Having Brett there beside me makes me feel strong and I take the call, my shoulders going back and my chin lifting.
“Hello,” I greet in a neutral tone, feeling Brett lock his thick arms around me as if he senses I need his support.
“Ginger thought I should call after another of your expenses showed up tonight,” no greeting or how are you, and the mention of his assistant who I know he has been having an affair with puts me on edge. “We put a stop to it. Hope it did not embarrass you too much.”
“No, not at all,” I lie as I glance up at Brett. “Although it would be nice to be told about expense limits. Have I not done my part for the company again, Father?” My voice sounds detached even to my own ears.
“You have not done your part for this family, Brielle. You ought to be married by now with children. Your brother will be getting married soon. We expect you to be there,” he clears his throat as he says we because he meanshe and Gingerexpect me there. My brother has not mentioned being engaged any of the times we have talked lately. I frown and move even closer to Brett, almost wishing I could use him to shield me from whatever this is.
“Would have loved to have known so I could have been there to celebrate.Of course,I will be there for my brother’s wedding,” Isnap.
“When you come, I expect you to announce your own engagement. I want you two wed as soon as possible. It looks bad for our brand for my children to be as old as they are, unwed, without children, globetrotting.”
“I am twenty-four, not forty-four,” I respond dryly, shaking my head. “And your son has been at your side building that brand. Just because I travel to do my part and do some good for our brand does not mean I do not do my part. You cannot tell me when to get married. My personal life has nothing to do with our business.”
“To me, it does. I do nothing that might threaten our brand. You have done your charitable deeds and sowed your wild oats long enough, Brielle. It is time to return home and do your part here. I won’t fund another trip, another shopping spree, or another extravagant purchase.”
“Wait...wait. You mean to tell me I have to come home and get married.... or you want to just cut me off?” my voice trembles as I speak because I know that is just what he is doing.
“Cut you off is right. I am done funding your lifestyle. No more black card, no more allowances, no more money siphoned from this business. Not when you do nothing to earn it!”
“Father,I haveearned what I spend. And I have a trust fund from grandaddy that you cannot control,” my words echo in the small town car that I realized has parked and sits outside of Brett’s place.
“A trust fund you cannot touch until you turn twenty-five. With the way you like to live, I presume you will recognize your need to come home.”
Stunned by his demands, I don’t hear what he says for a few moments. I just sit there, staring up at Brett, tears blurring his beautiful face. I am not a spoiled brat the way the media has portrayed me. I worked for what I spend, just as I argued. And I handled all the philanthropic duties for our brand. I may have been a bit overzealous with that because I wanted to do good, but I was not taking trips and shopping like a trust fund baby.
Ending the phone call even as my father continues to state demands, I press closer to Brett. With shaking hands, I skim through all my accounts. All of them have been frozen. I have no money. I have no way to live here in Driftwood. No money to pay rent at the cute place Lennon and I share or to cover the bare necessities.
“Oh my god!”
I am flat broke after foolishly spending thirteen grand on a snowboard.
Chapter Five
Brett
Being a good guy gets you nowhere, so I decide to be a bad guy.
It may be selfish of me to swoop in when Brielle is needy, and that makes me the bad guy. I am okwith that. The bad guy gets the girl in the movies and those dirty books all the ladies love. I will be the bad guy to get Brielle. Hearing her father has cut her off until she agrees to get married both enrages me and excites me.
It means I get a shot to be her hero even if it makes me a bad guy.