Wilde About Brant - The Brothers Wilde Series Book Two

by Cate Faircloth

  “I know, but she has no reason to do it anymore.”

  “She loves doing it.” I put on a pair of sweats and head to the kitchen. “I wouldn’t stop making music because I didn’t need to have a job. I would have done that with Dad’s inheritance if that was the case.” I scoff.

  “Yeah, I get it. I know it helps keep her busy now, too. All her kids are out of the house, and one of them is MIA.”

  I get disappointed when I think of Isaac. He may have been a big trouble to the entire family up until the day he left, but when we realized he hadn’t just run away for a few days, we still missed him, still wanted him back. I’ll never forget the look on Mom’s face after the first PI we hired said he could most likely be dead.

  “I know. I talk to her every day. It’s y’all who need to call her more.” I smirk. Mom and I are close just because I’m her firstborn. I get that special treatment from her most of the time.

  Once I start the coffee pot, I get some bacon out of the freezer to eat with some eggs. Since I have more of my day to burn from being woken up early, I might as well enjoy it.

  “I call her, asshole. Fletch has off-season tickets for his games. We should go.”

  “Yeah, sometime.”

  “You’ll also be pleased to know that Carson and Emily are still just friends.”

  I smile because this has been a running joke in our family for years. Carson and Emily have been friends since elementary school. The day he had a play date with her in second grade was the start of everything. We all thought they would get together in high school when they were still friends, but nothing happened. He swears there’s nothing there, but he doesn’t see what we do when they look at each other.

  “I’m not surprised. I get it, men and women can be just friends. But that’s not them.”

  “Definitely not. You need to come home, catch up on everything that’s been going on.”

  I smile. “I will. But I’ve got a schedule to work around, so don’t hold your breath.”

  “Yeah, whatever. Any new songs?”

  “You want a live show?”

  “I wouldn’t mind.”

  I laugh. I sang to them a lot growing up—sometimes annoying them, but sometimes they actually wanted to listen.

  “Well, look, I have to go into this meeting. Glad I could drag you out of bed.” He chuckles as I pour a cup of strong black coffee.

  “Right on. Talk to you later.”

  “Yeah.” He hangs up.

  I make breakfast, watch some pop culture news, and then head to the gym which is underneath the house next to the garage. With my morning started up, my head starts thinking on its own again—a little bit about using, but mostly about Cora. I want to call her, woo her, or court her like the old days, but there is more of me that knows I shouldn’t web her into my life right now.

  Rationale wins.

  After my workout and a shower, I sit in my towel in my bedroom staring down at the bed where I can still see Cora’s supple, smooth body writhing. The ding of an email from my phone gets me to pay attention again. Rick is asking me to meet him at the office. I shoot him a reply and get dressed—jeans, green Henley, and way too expensive sneakers.

  “You don’t look happy to see me,” Rick booms as I walk in his office.

  “I didn’t get much sleep.” I go to his coffee maker and make a cup.

  He saunters around the desk in his obnoxious tan suit and leans on the edge.

  “We have some shit to talk about.”

  I nod and sip. “All right.”

  “I’ve got two brand endorsements lined up.” He flips his computer screen around.

  “Watches and shirts?” I make a face.

  “From two major clothing companies. Both seven-figure signing deals. We’re doing it.”

  I have worked with him long enough and trust him enough to nod my approval.

  “Now, for the tour. I have a change of plans.”

  I sigh and sit on the couch. If he keeps talking, I might fall asleep. “What’s that?” I rub my eyes and look at him.

  “So, you take the next month or so and record one single. Go on a three-month tour to promote it and features of the last album. It will be good. I can set it up so you take a whole year off next.”

  I finish my coffee and think.

  “That doesn’t sound too bad.” I think of the rough songs I started about Cora. Maybe they’ll all come together into one, or it could be two.

  “Yeah, I know. I told you I look out for you. That’s why I got you set up with a new lawyer. These contracts make my head spin.”

  I laugh. “You think? Who is he?” I laugh.

  He chuckles and walks around his desk to take his phone, he talks as he types. “It’s a she. Cathy? Cindy? I don’t know. I never usually talk to the lawyers. I’ll ask her to come in and meet you.” He types some more, and I wonder how he doesn’t know her name if he knows her email.

  “Well, I’m sure her name is on her email address?” I press. He grins with an ‘ah ha’ moment, and it makes me chuckle through my exhaustion.

  “Right, well it doesn’t matter much. All I’ll do is send her shit to look at. But it’s good for them to meet the talent, so they don’t just see a bunch of numbers on paper. I’ve worked with too many artists who got sold out by shitty management.”

  I smile. “Thanks for looking out for me.”

  “She’s on her way. Legal is on the second floor,” he says.

  I nod and set my coffee cup down and settle on the couch. Normally, I don’t pay much attention to people other than Rick, and my executive and personal assistants. But he’s right, I don’t want to be sold out or something. These endorsements help get my music out there, give me some extra security in case I flop for some reason or trash my career with my own problems.

  “I hope this new lawyer is fair game. We haven’t had anyone new since—” Rick can’t finish his shitty sentence before someone knocks, and he calls them in.

  Then I can’t fight my shit-eating grin from flashing at the woman walking inside—tight, royal blue dress stopping at the knee to show off sinuous calves and high black pumps, chestnut brown hair pulled tightly into a bun and nothing to hide the modest neckline and cleavage peeking over the top of her dress, complete with a turbid expression and pouty peach lips.

  Cora.

  8

  Cora

  “You know you have to fess up eventually.”

  “I don’t.”

  “You do. And you will. Cause I’m going to keep asking you, sis.”

  Damien widens his smirk as his eyes light up in the mischievous way they always have, and it brings a smile to my face. I felt so seventeen sneaking back into the house at one a.m. and hoping Damien wouldn’t see me.

  He did.

  He was supposed to be in bed, but, of course, he wasn’t. So, he caught me in all my disheveled glory. And my hickeys too. Lucky for me, when I woke up this morning, they faded away, and I could still wear what I had planned. Well, I needed a little extra concealer on my jaw and just under it, but other than that, it was all fine.

  “You will get tired eventually.” I sigh and move up in the long line for drop off.

  We live too close to the private school for their charter bus to come, so I drop him off every morning and pick him up every day unless he goes with his friends. Unfortunately for me, I ‘grounded’ him for his last stint and made him come straight home.

  “You underestimate me way too much. At least tell me who the guy was?”

  I look at him arching his brows up and shake my head.

  “Okay. Will you see him again? Are you getting married?”

  “Damien! You’re giving me a headache.” I touch my forehead dramatically and then sip my coffee from my canister.

  “Whatever. I’ll just go through your messages.”

  I laugh. “You will be in class in three minutes. You can never get to my phone.”

  He shakes his head and tsks like I’m an amateur.
“I know your iCloud password. I’ll figure it out. That’s how I knew what you got me for Christmas last year,” Damien sings out like he is proud of himself. I think he is.

  “Careful, before I ground you even longer.”

  “Pft. You wouldn’t. You’re tired of picking me up and dropping me off every day. At least give me something, come on. We used to be so close, you’d tell me anything.” He almost sounds regretful, and it tugs at me—the part of me that would bend any arbitrary rule I made for him, every time. So, I relent a sigh and give up.

  “I just met him after work one day. It’s nothing serious, it was one date.”

  “You mean a one-night stand?”

  I gape.

  “Come on, it’s obvs. But that’s okay. So, you won’t see him again?”

  I giggle once. Maybe it even sounds sad, but I don’t know. “Not unless I try to, no,” I say thinking we were both on the same page. I think we were, but Brant was… I don’t want to think about it while Damien is in the car.

  I’m about ten minutes from the office before I am forced to.

  Brant was mind-blowing. Maybe even soul-shattering. He didn’t handle me like a man who doesn’t plan on having me again. I’ve been in long, committed relationships that never felt that good at any point. It was like I was tethered to him and would never disconnect as long as we were in that bed. No, as long as we were touching.

  My cheeks flush with memories and flashbacks that have been jumping in my head since I left the house. If he had asked me one more time, I would have spent the night and probably still irresponsibly be there. But I left with the plan never to see him again. Maybe if I want to have a little fun later, I thought, but that just gets complicated, lines get blurred, and everyone gets hurt. I do want that ‘happy ending’ one day, but I don’t think that time is now, and as much as I want to ignore it, something tells me Brant isn’t the type to try to have it with.

  I don’t even know him well, so I shouldn’t judge him. But I should never ignore my instinct either.

  The conclusion of my hearing for my clients brings me back to reality.

  “Thanks, Cora. I really appreciate it.” My client shakes my hand and smiles—a young pop star whose manager got her in the wrong type of contract at the wrong time just not thinking or not caring. It didn’t matter because I fought the company behind it and found a big enough loophole to get her out of it. I had been working on it for a little while now.

  I accept her thank you and wish her luck with a strong suggestion to get a new manager.

  Once I leave the conference room, I head back to my office and catch up on paperwork and dictation, but not without making more coffee and ordering lunch first. The day just runs away from me, and I’m glad it goes by fast, but it just gets hard to handle sometimes. At least I don’t have a bunch of meetings to attend. My mind drifts back to Brant because I can only distract myself for so long.

  Still I… it’s like I can feel him touching me. I have this odd feeling that he’s nearby and closer than I may think. I know it’s ridiculous, but the welts he left on my neck and breasts are proof that he has once been very close.

  I replace my hot coffee with ice water and finish my emails. My boss in Legal has sent me two new clients and another who doesn’t even have a full file. But his manager is copied on it, so I assume he meant to send it only to him. When I respond with that, it doesn’t seem to be the case, and I am confused until one of the managers, Rick, emails me back.

  Taking the stairs makes my feet burn because of my choice of heels, but they are so freaking gorgeous that it’s worth it. I’ve been waiting to wear this dress because I had to get it tailored for the right fit. I like to accentuate my hips and waist but not overly so because, hey, I still eat carbs.

  His office is the biggest one, and I knock before entering. Then I want to turn right back around.

  A shit-eating grin bright enough to compete with the sun behind the window smiles at me. Artfully sexy, messy brown hair over a face so soft-lined and proportionate it should be a crime stares at me. Take that with hypnotizing kiss-me lips, and I’m done for. His muscles fight the thin fabric of his Henley, his abdomen clearly taut underneath, and jeans that even while he sits down, compliment every inch of his flawless anatomy. Criminal.

  Brant.

  “Hi, thanks for coming. Brant, this is Cora Arnold. She will be handling your contracts from now on.” Rick comes forward to the center sitting area of his office, and I step forward slowly.

  My legs are heavy like lead as I drag myself forward unable to look away from Brant’s eyes staring into me reminding me of every time he looked at me like that last night.

  “Miss Arnold, this is Brant Wilde, singer and songwriter, but I’m sure you already know him.”

  “What?” That gets my attention as my eyes snap to Rick.

  He laughs. “Yeah. He’s only the best thing to come since Journey. Except he’s a one-man show.” He grins at Brant like he is prideful, but I realize it’s probably just the huge advances and signing fees he is smiling at.

  Brant is famous? To who? I watch television. I don’t live under a rock. I may not have seen an award show in years, but still.

  “Oh.” My smile is awkward and small. I wipe my now sweaty palms on my dress and lean on the arm of the couch.

  My head is spinning. There is no way I can work with Brant or work for him, technically. I get a percentage of every contract he may sign. This can’t be real. I check if I’m dreaming, but I know I’m awake. This isn’t the kind of dream I would have with Brant present. Certainly, his tan-suited manager who looks like Miami itself wouldn’t be here too.

  “Yep. It’s great. He has the best team of any talent here at Strike. You should be excited.” Rick laughs, and I manage a smile.

  “It is exciting, yes,” I lie.

  This is a nightmare. A complete nightmare. The last time I saw him I thought it was the last time. This is just making my head spin even more. I eye the liquor bar in his office and wish I could down some right now. I can’t grasp one thing that I am focused on, one thing that is making me literally sick to my stomach.

  “I have something for you already. I’ll email it to you and copy Brant. He likes to be as involved as possible.”

  Brant is still staring right at me, and his eyes darken at that. His stare is unnerving. It’s too deep.

  “Sounds great. Excuse me, I have a meeting. Nice to meet you,” I lie and spin out of there as fast as possible.

  Flying back down the stairs to my office, I nearly trip but keep going anyway and don’t stop until I am freaking out on my mini couch. I wish I kept a liquor bar in here like everyone else.

  My cold sweats trickle down my back and threaten my eyeliner to bleed. I take deep breaths and try to talk myself out of this panic session. This can’t be that bad. I wouldn’t have to actually work with him often. That isn’t the problem.

  I think it’s that I know I won’t be able to resist him. Not when he is so close. Not when—

  “So, this is what you meant by entertainment law?”

  I freeze in my seat still staring at the floor. My office is so secluded I always leave the door open—big mistake. I look up to see Brant staring down at me with the same grin from before.

  I swallow and wet my lips as my eyes flee from his, catching his strong forearms crossed over his chest, veins crossing, muscles tensing.

  “I… yes.”

  He chuckles and comes inside. I make a face at him, and he laughs more.

  “I can’t come into your office?”

  “You can ask first.”

  Brant licks his lips as he sits next to me. I exhale sharply, and though I feel taken by surprise, I feel like something has relaxed inside of me that has been tense since I left his house. His familiar scent to me now comes swarming in, and I turn to meet his gaze, crossing my legs like it will help the threat of a throb between them.

  “I can ask for a different lawyer if it makes you uncomfor
table.”

  I sigh. He sounds genuine, but I know it wouldn’t be a good idea. Brant is obviously the gem of this place that I somehow overlooked. I already know if he asks for a different lawyer, it’s bad for me.

  “It’s fine. I’m a professional.” And I do mean it. I just need a little time to take it all in.

  “I know. We can have a lot of fun working together. Long acquisitions in the office.”

  I hold back a laugh. “You think way too highly of your contracts.” I only glanced at them. They aren’t the generic endorsement deals because he is worth more and does more for the brands he signs with. But they are otherwise ordinary.

  “Maybe. You really didn’t know who I was, huh?” He cocks his head at me, curiosity in his eyes.

  I smile and tug my dress down, but it just rides back up. His eyes glance at my exposed skin, and my body starts to heat up looking at him in any way.

  “No. I have listened to the same music since I was a kid. I never branched out.”

  “And it wasn’t alternative rock?”

  “No.” We laugh at the same time.

  I sit back and chew my inner lip as I ignore the buzzing between us. It is taking a lot out of me not to reach out and touch him, straddle him, and kiss him. It would be too easy to enjoy. Too easy to regret.

  “I know you might think I’ll be some pompous ass, but I’m not.”

  “I don’t think that.”

  He arches his brow in question. I sigh and shake my head.

  “You knew I hadn’t recognized you before. You didn’t tell me then either.”

  He nods slowly. “Yeah I… it was refreshing. For a change, you didn’t know me and didn’t want anything from me. Other than—”

  “Brant.” I stop him before he can finish that sentence. We both smile at each other, too in tune to ignore.

  “Cora, I like you. You like me. We already know each other very well, but you look like you really wish this wasn’t happening.”

  I silently curse him for reading me so easily. My shoulders slump, and I fiddle with the end of my dress to ignore the statement.