The Bachelor Auction (The Bachelors of Arizona Book 1)
Page 20
Brock sucked in a breath as the pressure of his family settled heavily on his shoulders. It was time to be honest. With both of them. “The auction,” He swallowed. “It’s for the shareholders.”
“Come again?” Bentley frowned. “What the hell do they have to do with anything?”
“Everything,” Brant answered for Brock, then took a seat next to him on the couch, his expression grim. “They’re pushing Grandfather out, aren’t they?”
“How’d you know?” Brock asked.
“Just call it intuition.” Brant looked away. Clearly he was hiding something but it wasn’t the time or place to ask how or why. “So, the auction is what? A way to make everyone happy?”
“Good press.” Brock stood and began to pace the hardwood floor. “The media’s obviously going wild over the idea; we’re bringing money in for research and finally playing nice with the Titus family. We’re reminding the shareholders about how much the press loves the Wellington name and providing free publicity for the company. It shows we’re team players and that the company isn’t going to go to shit when Grandfather leaves it to us.” He paused. “All of us.”
Bentley paled, while Brant kept looking away.
Was it guilt that kept the twins silent? Or something more?
The room was thick with tension.
“Wait!” Bentley jumped to his feet. “Titus Enterprises is sponsoring the auction with us? Right?”
“And?” Brock shrugged. “Grandfather’s been pining after them for years. They’re basically our counterpart, only the grandsons have actually settled down and made something of themselves, whereas we’re all still single and you guys manage to become front page news every weekend.”
Brant rolled his eyes. “The fact that Jake Titus is happily married with kids is enough to make me want to throw up a little. The guy was worse than me and Bentley combined. Besides, that marriage doesn’t count until he’s made it past six years.”
But Bentley had a knowing look on his face, his eyes wide. “The point is that Nadine Titus has always been known to have a soft spot for love stories and matchmaking, right?”
“Hunh?” Brock was even more confused.
A smirk crossed Brant’s face. “I think that’s a solid plan.”
“Wait? What am I missing?” Brock stopped pacing.
“Everything, brother.” Bentley slapped him on the back. “Damn near everything.”
“Will it save Jane?”
Bentley braced Brock with both hands. “And you.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Jane woke up to her phone going off. She nearly fell out of bed in an attempt to grab it, thinking maybe, just maybe it was Brock.
Instead it was a text from Essence, saying that she and Esmerelda had stayed the night at a friend’s house and not to worry.
The thing about it, though? She wasn’t worried. Not at all. She’d stopped worrying the minute her sisters had proved they cared about themselves more than her, since she was left, as usual, to pick up the pieces. The press hadn’t left her house since news had broken that she was back home, which just so happened to be a few hours after Brock’s grandfather left.
Newspapers and TV shows wanted to interview her.
She could understand her sisters wanting to dodge the press, but honestly, leaving had just given them an excuse to do just what they’d normally do.
They’d left a mess in the house.
They’d had no regard for her feelings.
They’d manipulated.
And if she needed more proof of how little concern they actually felt for her, she had all of the text conversations from when she was at the ranch.
Her heart slammed against her chest.
The ranch.
Brock.
She still hadn’t heard from him, but at the same time she refused to believe things were over.
Sighing, she was just ready to put her phone back down when it rang.
Fumbling with the device, she pressed answer and had it to her ear. “Jane? Jane, is that you?”
Esmeralda’s voice may as well be nails on a chalk board. “Hey,” Jane answered.
“I’m still pissed at you.” Esmeralda sighed. “But, whatever. I just wanted to let you know that we forgive you.”
“Forgive me?” Jane rolled her eyes. Was her sister serious? “For what?”
“Leaving us.”
“I left to take a job!” Jane slammed her hand against her forehead. “Because that’s how I make money!” Were they really that dense?
“Right, but you didn’t answer your phone, left the laundry, didn’t even think to grocery shop. You know I hate going to crowded superstores like Walmart! I had a traumatic experience there! You know that!”
Jane bit her tongue. It was more that Esmerelda just hated doing anything that she thought was beneath her—grocery shopping fit that bill.
“Anyway, we forgive you and we actually wanted to do you a favor. We thought it would be fun to get ready for the ball tonight.”
“Did you say ball?”
“Yeah, why?”
“The ball that costs ten thousand dollars a plate? That ball?” Jane had a familiar sick punch to the gut. They didn’t have the money for it—not at all.
“Are there any other balls where rich men are getting auctioned off?” Esmeralda laughed. “Of course that ball.”
“But you don’t have that kind of money!”
Esmeralda was silent and then sighed. “Look, I took out a new credit card. God knows you won’t be able to marry the guy after you publicly shamed yourself like a whore. Besides, we need money!”
“Esmeralda!” She fought to keep the tears in. “How could you do that? Why? It’s just a party! We don’t have the money!”
“But you made money at the big job you were just on, right?” Esmeralda laughed. “We’ll pay for the rest on the credit card. All we really need is your portion.”
“My…portion,” Jane said, fuming. “I don’t owe you guys anything.”
“You took the job to support the family, right?” Esmeralda said plainly. “So support the family. Plus, think of the networking Essence and I could do at a place like that! We could get so many clients, meet so many people. Really, you would be doing it for us. For all of us. After all, didn’t Daddy want us to work together as a team?”
“About that.” Jane glanced around her room—at the memories that filled it, the walls with posters of bands and singers, the stickers that still littered her ceiling. “I think I’d rather fly solo.”
Esmeralda was silent, then said, “But we love you.”
“No.” Jane closed her eyes as tears burned. “You love you.”
“Jane!” Esmeralda shouted. “Don’t do this to us!”
“I’m sorry. I just…I can’t. I can’t support you spending money, my hard-earned money, on something frivolous. From here on out you’re on your own.”
“You’re a selfish bitch!” Esmeralda yelled. “No wonder he’s still going through with the auction. Who would want a frigid virgin for—”
Jane hung up the phone before she said something she could never take back.
Her childhood room suddenly felt too small, choking the life out of her. A memory surfaced of her father.
“Knock, knock.” Daddy walked in with an apron over his work clothes. He held a tray in his hand, and a rose was laid across the plate of eggs and French toast. A giant cup of coffee sat on the far right side. “I figured you’d need this.”
She didn’t trust herself to speak, so she nodded her head and looked away.
“They don’t deserve you, sweetheart,” he whispered once he set the tray on the bed and tilted her chin toward him. “Girls are fickle creatures. I love all three of you, but sometimes, we say things that are hurtful. Things we don’t mean. Promise that you’ll see through that and try to keep the family together.” He coughed; the tray trembled in his hands as he sat on her bed. “Just promise to try. Family is all we have.”
But was that what her dad had meant? To be a maid to her own family? No. And she’d already made her decision to stand her ground. So, with shaking hands, she grabbed a suitcase and started packing.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Brock frowned at the text.
She was late.
He tried not to be irritated. After all, he needed her if their plan was going to work.
Brock was checking his phone again when the door to his limo flew open, revealing a flurry of leopard print and expensive perfume. She flashed him a knowing smile and slid across the smooth leather seat. Her bright red lipstick was like a homing beacon in the dark car.
“Well,” she huffed. “I’m listening. What exactly do you need from me?”
Everything. He leaned back and took a deep breath then faced the one woman he knew could help keep his family in charge of Wellington, Inc.
But this wasn’t business.
No. This was personal.
Brock exhaled and faced the one woman he knew who could easily destroy a man with a simple snap of her fingers, and said, “I love her.”
Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline and an excited smile crossed over her soft features. “Really?”
“Yes.” He swallowed. “So damned much I can’t lose her. But I also love my grandfather.”
“Which leaves us at an impasse.” She tapped her chin with a long red fingernail and smirked. “I do love a good romance.”
Didn’t he know it. Rumors had been rampant over the last few years on how she’d set up her own grandsons and basically forced them into blissful marriages, all without missing a beat.
Which was why he’d come to her.
Wellington, Inc. needed her partnership in order to please the shareholders, and if she agreed to help him with Jane he’d owe her. This would give her more power than she already had, but he knew she’d like that, and he was betting it would make her more willing to form an alliance with Wellington, Inc., if only because she’d feel she had the upper hand.
Besides. He would do anything. Anything.
For Jane.
“What will you give me if I help you?” She sobered, her expression suddenly all business.
Brock met her stare and paused, then said, “A damned good show.”
At that she threw back her head and laughed. “Like grandfather, like grandson?”
“I’d like to think I’m less stuffy…”
“Oh honey.” Her voice dropped into a husky whisper. “You have absolutely no idea.”
Yeah, that was too much information.
“So you’ll help me win the woman I love?”
“Oh, I’ll help you all right, and I’ll do it out of the goodness of my heart.” She patted him on the shoulder. “And for the simple fact that while I despise your family as competition, I would be bored to tears without it—plus, that grandfather of yours.” She rubbed her hands together and smirked. “He’s quite…wonderful, isn’t he?”
“When he isn’t trying to control everyone and everything? Yes.” Brock spoke without thinking.
“Oh honey.” She patted his hand. “That’s just us grandparents worrying about the future. Besides, something tells me that my involvement will make him happier than you could possibly imagine.”
“Oh?” That piqued his interest. “How so?”
Her smile was warm. “Because it will make you happy—and despite what you think—that’s all he’s ever wanted.”
Brock didn’t know what to say to that.
She seemed to pick up on his hesitation and shrugged. “You’ll have to make sure the media believes it. I hope you haven’t been having any secret rendezvous with the girl, or texts since you’ve returned from the ranch that they can grab a hold of.”
He exhaled. At least he’d done that right. “No, no. I’ve been waiting until I spoke with you. Until you agreed.”
She harrumphed. “Well, now that I have, it’s just going to get harder. No direct contact.” She drew out the word ‘direct.’ “Until the night of, got it? No funny business. The last thing we need is for this to look like a set-up.”
“I swear. I’ll do anything for her.”
“I know.” She winked. “That’s what makes this so romantic.” She paused. “You do realize the favors I’ll have to owe people, the negotiations that will have to take place in order for this to fully work?”
Brock swallowed back his anxiety. “I do.”
“Well, I have been known to manipulate in my day…I guess this just means I’m back in the game.”
He suddenly had the sinking feeling that he’d re-created a monster.
“Your grandfather…”
“Leave him out of this,” Brock snapped.
“Hmm.” She merely stared at him. Hard. As if trying to figure him out. “You know, he isn’t as bad as he seems.”
Brock let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “I know, I just. I can’t lose her.”
The corners of her mouth worked into a bright smile. “Then leave it to me. Trust me to do what I do best.”
“And what’s that?”
“Why…” She winked. “Everything, of course.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The auction was tomorrow.
Jane tried to ignore the pain in her chest.
Clearly, he was going through with it.
Without her.
Two days had passed and there’d been no word from Brock. She wanted to trust that he was dealing with it, but, really, part of her was already so depressed that she still hadn’t heard from him that all she wanted to do was sob into her ice cream and watch crap TV.
With a grimace she walked over to the freezer and pulled out some Rocky Road, then took a seat on the couch. After the fight with her sisters they’d come home, grabbed some of their things, and told her yet again not to wait up.
She was pretty sure they were still going to the auction.
Without her, unless she used the money that was burning a hole in her pocket to buy a ticket to the dinner.
She groaned.
Did she really have a choice?
Her own sisters were sacrificing everything to go.
They’d see Brock.
Brock.
Another groan escaped her lips. Why hadn’t he texted her?
Had he stood up to his grandfather?
Was he happy? Sad?
Why the hell did she care? She was sad. She was eating Rocky Road.
With a frustrated sigh she dug her spoon in.
And then.
Her doorbell rang.
“No!” she yelled. “Not more.” Probably because even though she was going crazy, the last thing she wanted was for another visit from the media. They’d been relentless all day, since it was the night before the auction.
The doorbell sounded again, then someone knocked so hard that she thought they’d break the door down. She shot up from the couch and stomped over to throw it open.
“Bentley?”
“Jane.” He smiled. He really did have a killer smile.
“Um? What are you doing here?”
“Getting your sizes, of course,” he said as he handed her a garment bag. “For some reason women keep leaving their clothes in my apartment. As if I’d invite them back. Ha. Anyway, let’s see if any of these fit.”
“Wait, what—”
“Trust me,” Bentley shrugged. “Can you do that?”
It was the same thing Brock had said to her.
“But Brock—”
“Trust him, too.” Bentley said gently, although his gaze was a bit harsh, as if he didn’t have the patience for her to argue with him. “Now, let’s get you out of those clothes.”
She jerked back and eyed him up and down. “Some things never change.”
“Shit.” Bentley rubbed his temples. “That came out wrong. What I meant was, let’s see if any of these f
it. So we can figure out what kind of dress to get. Please?”
“For?” Jane rubbed her arms and stepped back into the house.
“Cinderella has to go to the ball, don’t you think?”
She shook her head. “Bentley, this is sweet, you’re sweet, but I haven’t heard from him in two days and, even though I have the money to buy a ticket….” Had she really lost trust in him that fast? When he swore he’d make things right?
“His phone was dead on day one and he’s been…advised.” Bentley chose his words carefully it seemed. “He’s not supposed to make actual contact with you until the right time. He’s working on a solution to this whole mess, believe me. And you’ve had the media camped outside your house for God knows how long. It’s a simple question, Jane. Do you trust him?”
She stared Bentley down. He seemed genuine, but oh how her heart hurt. “Yes,” She finally whispered. “I do.” Tears threatened again. “But the company, it’s everything to him, and not letting you guys down and his grandfather; don’t even get me started on that piece of work and—”
Bentley pressed a finger to her lips. “Do you care for Brock? Possibly love him?”
Tears spilled onto her cheeks. Ah! Why couldn’t she stop crying! Three weeks shouldn’t have affected her so much—but Brock had found his way into her heart and no amount of tears or logic that he was doing what he had to do made the pain go away or the sadness at potentially losing him. And really, what was she losing him to? A nameless face? Not really. The messed-up part was that really when she thought about it, she was losing him to his grandfather.
“Thought so.” Bentley grinned, bringing her back to the present. He removed his finger and then let out a whistle. To her horror several people piled out of a black SUV and started shuffling into her house.
“Is this necessary?”
His eyes twinkled and that practiced, devastating, panty-melting smile was back in full force. “For a Wellington? For Jane? For the princess of the ball? Absolutely. Besides, my brother would have me by the balls if I did anything as half assed as sending you to the mall.”
* * *
“Should you maybe stop at the stop signs?” Jane gripped the door handle and held on for dear life.