"Well, eat up then, no tattooing on an empty stomach." He sits down across the table from me and starts to pile his plate high with food. As he does, the room seems to explode into noise as other people all join us for breakfast. Declan is looking immaculate in a dark gray suit, black shirt, and lavender tie, phone to his ear as he seems to be arguing about something.
"No, she told me she could ride. Swore black and blue, I would never have vouched for her if I knew she couldn’t." I snort at his words, realizing Max was right. He's getting into trouble for Selena Cross’ actions. Wonder how that’s going to affect her career. His eyes shoot to mine, cold and calculating, as he hangs up and throws his phone next to him on the table.
"Where’s my fucking cat?" he growls, and I wave in the direction of the sofa, showing him his sleeping Princess. He huffs but smiles at Mrs. Hayton as she puts a cup of coffee in front of him.
"What do you know about what I was just talking about?" he demands, his voice laced with suspicion, like I may have something to do with it. I roll my eyes, not overly amused at his assumption that I have nothing better to do than mess with his life.
"I spoke to Max this morning, and she was just getting on a plane to head to that set. She told me all about it. Apparently, she's going to fix Selena’s lies.” He just huffs again and proceeds to ignore me completely, asking Oliver about his plans for the day.
I tune out Oliver’s gloating and watch as the two brothers I've hardly had anything to do with grab cups of coffee from Mrs. Hayton, both kissing her on the cheek in thanks.
Holden, the record executive, is also dressed in a suit. His is navy blue, and he's paired it with a lighter blue shirt, and a gray patterned tie. His dirty blond hair is styled messily, slightly longer on top and shaved at the sides. I can see a tattoo on his neck but can't make out what it is. The little glimpse I’m getting has a lot of black and gray shading. He has a similar build to Kai, stocky and tall, kind of like Vin Diesel. I bet he and Kai pump iron together; they would get all sweaty, and their shirts would come off, and their muscles would ripple as a drop of sweat rolls down their skin.
The picture is so vivid in my mind that a sharp "Harlow!" has me jumping. Shaking myself out of my daydream, my eyes meet his hazel ones. Oh wow, they’re similar to mine.
"Sorry, what did you say?"
"Well, while you were busy eye-fucking my brother, he asked you what you had planned for Oli's new tattoo." Thomas' accented words have me flustered, and I can feel a blush cross my cheeks from a combination of being caught fantasizing about his brothers as well as just what he sounds like. It’s not strong, just a faint hint, but it’s undeniably sexy. What is with these men and their suits? I guess being the CEO of their respective businesses means dressing up every day, but they may be more than my poor heart can handle. This is my first breakfast with them, and I’m not sure if I'm going to survive to my second. Thomas has on a deep green suit that sets off his messy red hair and green eyes perfectly; he looks like a sexy elf. His build is long and lean like a swimmer, and he sits in a seat across from me, an expectant look on his face. Oh, right, the tattoo.
"Oh, it's a surprise, and you'll all just have to wait and see when it's done." They all frown at me, and I guess they're not used to being told no. Mrs. Hayton’s bawdy laugh rings out across the table.
"You all should see your faces." She slaps a hand on the table, her mirth causing me to giggle. “Good on you, child! They need to be told no more often. All they hear is yes, sir. Buck up, boys, it's good for the soul.” Jacinta and Kai enter the room, both with smiles on their faces as they see Mrs. Hayton laughing.
"What’s so funny?” Jacinta asks, smiling, and her eyes have a warmth to them that I’ve only seen when she looks at everyone but me. The housekeeper’s laughter is contagious.
"Oh, Harlow just put the boys in their places, and that didn't go over well." Jacinta's smile drops at those words, and it looks like she’s going to join her brothers in annoyance even though she has no idea why they're annoyed. It's another show of solidarity against me as an interloper. Looking around the table, I’m met by frowns and pursed lips or ugly sneers on all the boys present until Kai’s laughter has them all turning their heads to look at him.
"Cheer up, you miserable assholes." He grabs Mrs. Hayton in a big hug, lifting her feet off the floor with his enthusiasm and those muscles that I am definitely not going to fantasize about again...right now. "Breakfast looks awesome, thank you." Kai is dressed in a pair of sneakers, a loose pair of shorts, and a t-shirt.
"Not going into the office today?" she asks him. He pushes his chin-length hair off his face as he shakes his head.
"No, the guys have a photoshoot at Newport Beach that I’m going to supervise."
"Oh, I was there yesterday, and the waves were amazing! There were a few surfers out in the water, and it just looked magical," I add to the conversation before my brain catches up to my mouth. Why, Harlow, why would you invite their attention? All talk stops, and as one they all look at me like they’re shocked I had something to say. But Kai smiles, coming over to sit next to me at the table.
"Do you surf, Harlow?" he asks, showing some genuine interest, and I snort.
"Hardly." Brad and his perfectly put together PA, Cecelia, have walked in just as I'm talking. "No, going to the beach was not something that Diane would have allowed."
Kai raises a confused eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
Sighing, I look at Cecelia. It's not really something I want to share with outsiders, and I’m debating whether I answer or not since I barely want to even tell my “siblings” anything else about my life with Diane. Everyone's eyes follow mine, and she sees us looking at her, waving her hand at me before smoothing back her hair. "Oh, don't worry about me! I'm practically family," she simpers. That gets an interesting reaction from the kids. Eye rolling, a couple of snorts, and what sounds like gagging from Jacinta. Hmm, is she implying that she and Brad are an item?
“She’s also got an ironclad NDA,” Brad adds in absently as he puts food on his plate, which draws an annoyed look from Cecelia before she quickly smoothes it away.
"Harlow," Kai prompts me, bringing my attention away from the PA.
"Oh, well the Bostons had custody of me, but I’m not sure it was technically done through all the proper legal channels. I think it was an under the table thing because Diane dictated a lot of the rules. I wasn't permitted to go on any kind of vacation with them, and until I got accepted to college, I hadn't left our hometown."
I don’t add in that after I had turned eighteen and could do whatever I wanted, she kept me close through blackmail and manipulation. That might be just a bit too heavy for breakfast conversation. My eyes meet Brad’s, and his eyes shimmer with tears, a bit of guilt hitting me that this is two consecutive meals that I’ve managed to upset him in some way. He walks over and places a kiss on my forehead. "I’m so sorry, kid."
I shrug my indifference. "It's all in the past, and you didn't know." Everyone else loses interest in the conversation, but Kai’s eyes are shrewd as if he knows there’s more to my story than I’m saying.
"Okay, what’s on the agenda today?" Brad asks, taking a seat, and Cecelia sits next to him. "Where's Jaxon?" he asks, looking around the table for the missing brother before his eyes land on Jacinta.
"Oh, he had to go out to Vegas for the day for something with the hotel; he'll be back this evening. He doesn't want to miss our first premiere as a family," she says, waving her piece of toast in the air, her words laced with sarcasm that Brad seems to miss. The siblings exchange wicked grins, and I squirm uncomfortably in my seat. Damn it; something is definitely going on. Looking at Kai, he won’t meet my eye, so the nice guy façade only goes so far. I'll have to keep that in mind.
"What about everyone else?" Brad continues.
"Well, the billboard is going up today for the shoot we just did. We should all get to see it tonight. It's just across from the movie theater." She sounds excited at the pr
ospect as her cool blue eyes meet mine. "I think you'll be pleased with what we've done with it, Harlow." Her fake smile has me twitching, my mind running through all the mischief she might be planning for me.
Brad is frowning, his brows furrowed. "What’s Harlow got to do with it? Why would she be pleased?" I wiggle even more in my seat at his words, but Nana and Poppy walk in, saving me from answering.
"Oh, the photographer thought Harlow was beautiful, which she is, and decided she was more suitable for the shoot than the hired models." Nana runs a hand over my head on the way past, and I smile up at her. Poppy leans down and kisses me on the cheek before going around and giving Jacinta one as well. Thank goodness she jumped in; there was no way I was explaining that Shane was saving me from all the bullying.
"I've got to deal with the fallout from Selena's lies and kiss a director’s ass. Hopefully, I can do it via video chat, but if he's a temperamental bastard, I’ll have to get on the jet tomorrow and go and straighten it out," Declan informs his father, and Brad nods before looking toward the next son.
"Meetings for me," Thomas tells him, "but I may have to fly to London and check on our British branch in a few days. There’s been talk of industrial disputes from the cabin staff." Brad frowns but again nods his head.
"And I've got a boy band imploding." Holden groans, his elbows resting on the table, head in his hands, and my ears prick up in interest. "Ninja Starship needs some mediation, and I have to be involved in the talks. I don't know what’s going on, but they're good guys, so it's the least I can do. I don't want to lose one of our number one selling artists." Ninja Starship is a cool funky little boy band outfit; a cross between One Direction and Imagine Dragons. They sing, dance, and play instruments. I'd love to know the gossip, but he doesn't share any more information.
When everyone has finished the schedules for the day, Cecelia stands up. “Don’t forget tonight’s premiere; everyone is expected to attend.” She starts handing out tickets to each of them. “These are your tickets and a plus one if you need it." She gets to me and hands me an envelope, but I look down at it in confusion.
"I'm sorry. I thought I was attending with Brad?" I ask, looking up as the table falls silent.
Cecelia waves at me. "Oh, no. I always attend with Brad." She titters at my mistake while Nana clears her throat.
"Actually, why don't you hang on to Harlow's tickets. She will be attending with Brad tonight, and you can use hers. Maybe bring a date. One who is more age-appropriate." She mutters the last bit under her breath, and Poppy barely holds in a chuckle at her snark.
Turning to Cecelia, I see her eyes flash in anger, and she lets out a quiet huff in outrage at Nana’s comment before she quickly schools her face again, a small smile appearing. "Of course, Grace, that would be lovely." Looking around the table, waiting to be blown up at for attending with their father, I’m surprised that the kids seem pleased about something for a change. I guess Cecelia is about as welcome as I am. Maybe she’s sleeping with my father, or maybe this is just another example of that Summers’ hospitality for outsiders. If he’s a little friendlier when he’s away from the rest of them, I’ll ask Oliver today.
At that thought, he stands up, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Come on, Harlow, we need to get going." I drain my coffee, taking his lead. Wishing everyone a good day, I follow after him, Nana’s call of good luck and have a nice day, echoing after me.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Harlow
After grabbing my backpack from my room and forsaking the crutches for another day, I follow Oliver through a door I haven’t seen before. It leads us to a huge garage with the faint smell of gasoline fumes and oil. It's big enough to house their eight cars, I quickly count, with a couple of empty spaces. I also see some pretty wicked motorcycles on the far side, but it's a silver Aston Martin Vanquish in front of me that catches my eye, a whistle escaping my mouth.
"Whoa, that is a seriously nice car!” I say out loud. Oliver presses something on his key fob, and the lights flash once as a beeping sound echoes through the garage.
"Hop in; we need to get moving." He climbs into the driver’s side, not acknowledging the compliment, and I just about have a panic attack at the thought of sitting in a car this gorgeous. As the garage door lifts, I run around to the passenger side and jump in.
I've barely sat down and closed my door before we're shooting out of the garage at a rapid pace. The car flies around to the front of the house and down the driveway, the rose bushes a blur of purple and pink. As we fly by, a rush of adrenaline that spikes through my body, waking me up even more. I’m no stranger to a little adrenaline, and I can’t say that I don’t appreciate the burst of energy. He has some classic rock playing softly in the background, and as Lenny Kravitz screams about an American woman, I watch for the old mansion through the trees. Straining my neck, I try to catch a glimpse of the gothic monstrosity, but we fly by too fast. Disappointment runs through me, and I decide my next free day, I’m going over there to explore. I just hope there really isn't a caretaker on the premises anymore.
Turning my head, I examine Oliver’s profile as his hands grip the steering wheel tight. His citrusy scent has dug itself into the car, and the smell reminds me of summer afternoons by the lake back home. A part of me wants to enjoy the familiarity while I can, knowing that our time one on one might be just the chance for me to finally make some headway with one of Brad’s kids.
"So..." Screw the tension and the silence; I want to know more about this man. Let's see if I can get any. "Black sheep of the family or just no business for you to take over?" My words are nosy and kind of mean, but I'm hoping that they’ll get him to engage, and he does strike me as the type who might appreciate some blunt words.
He snorts, "Hardly!" Hook, line, and sinker. "I could have run the clubs and hotels with Jaxon, or Productions with Declan, or even the energy drink company with all its different sponsored teams. There are more than enough businesses to go around; those three especially are often flat out busy."
That’s fascinating information. They’re all hell-bent on not wanting me around, yet the businesses are busy enough I could slide in anywhere if I really wanted to, or if that’s what Brad’s intentions are. That does make it seem like their personal issues have to be even more deeply rooted than I’d first thought. I’m truly no threat to their wealth or status in the family enterprises, so this might be harder than I can handle.
He's quiet for a little while before he keeps going. "I was a sullen, withdrawn kid when Dad first adopted me. My home life had sucked, but Nana realized I had a knack for drawing and bought me my first art supplies. It calmed me like nothing else did, and with some therapy, I managed to channel my emotions into my art." His hands are tight on the wheel, and his body is tense. The ripple of muscle in his tight forearms makes his tattoos dance with the movement, and I squirm slightly with desire, but I quickly check my inner hornbag. Telling me those things was difficult for him, but it makes me feel like he's opening up, and it’s honestly more progress than I’ve made with any of Brad’s kids so far. My hormones are certainly not going to get in the way of making the most of this connection. I put my hand on his thigh, low enough that I’m not getting too personal, and his gaze leaves the road to look at my hand before going back to the road. Afraid I’ve pushed too far when all I wanted to do was show some sympathy, I pull it away slowly, but he grabs it and keeps it there.
“By the time I was a teenager, I had a fascination with tattoos, and Nana organized for me to meet a tattoo artist friend of hers. I wasn't allowed into the shop because I was a minor, but he would come out to us and give me drawing lessons once a month. He gave me my first gun six months after I started lessons with him, and I would practice on pig skins Nana would get from the butcher for me. Occasionally, I could talk one of the guys into letting me use them as practice dummies. When I turned eighteen, I started an official apprenticeship with him. Three years of hard work and no pay, but by the end, Frank
told me I was the best apprentice he’d ever had. And that guy was hard to please, let me tell you.” A rueful smile crosses his face at the memory, but there’s also a soft affection in his eyes that I feel like I’ve seen before in Declan’s and some of the others. It’s the look the Summers seem to get when they talk about or spend time with someone they genuinely care about. “He made me work hard for it, but I stayed on with him for another two years before I opened NPI. Dad was thrilled I was expanding the Neighpalm empire, and he, Nana, and Poppy have been nothing but supportive."
His story warms my heart. They’re such loving and supportive people; these guys are so lucky to have them.
"And the new artist today?" As soon as I change the subject, his body language transforms. His grip on the steering wheel loosens, and his whole body slumps slightly in his seat, relaxing. Okay, well, that clearly defines some boundaries. Good to know.
"We have the one shop here in LA, but we're looking to expand. We’re opening a store in San Francisco, and we're also opening one on the east coast in New York, so we're interviewing a whole heap of artists. I'm flying to the east coast to do some interviews out there in a week or two." He looks at me, his eyes covered by reflective glasses, so I can’t read his expression. "You should come with me, visit your family, or whatever," he suggests, and a huge smile crosses my face.
“Really? Yeah, that would be awesome. I'll have to wait and see where the horses are by then, though," I remind him. He gives a quick nod of his head but doesn’t seem bothered by the need to put business first; I guess that is a Summers trait, after all.
"So, what are you looking for today in the artist?" I probe, interested in his thought process and wanting to take advantage of every moment where I’m being treated like a real human being.
"Well, talent, of course. I want to see their set up and break down. Even though there will be an apprentice for those kinds of things, I want to see their process. You can tell a lot by the way an artist sets up their station,” he explains to me as the outside scenery flies by, getting busier the closer to the city we get.
Abandoned Girl (Neighpalm Industries Collective, #1) Page 22
