by Blue Saffire
As expected, we're already surrounded by whispers and stares, though we both do an impressive job of appearing unconcerned. I always thought my game face was infallible, but Liam could definitely teach me a thing or two about remaining poised during a crisis. Well, except for last night which is why his outburst garnered so much attention.
We greet people in passing as we scan the place cards looking for our table. When we find it, Liam and I take our seats and make small talk with the other people at the table. The emcee announces that we’ll begin shortly and asks the remaining stragglers to take their seats. Liam and I have already turned our attention to the makeshift stage at the front of the room, so we don’t notice who filled the two empty chairs directly across from us until the slimy bastard speaks.
“This should be interesting,” Stuart says, loud enough for everyone else at the table to hear. “Hopefully Maxwell can keep his hands to himself today and stay out of trouble.”
Liam and I turn our heads quickly to face Stuart and his father. Both men are wearing obvious contempt as they continue to take jabs.
Stuart’s dad laughs. “I disagree, son. If he wants to throw away his empire for some temporary tail, he doesn’t deserve it.”
What an asshole!
I flash both men a glare, preparing to turn away and ignore them. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Liam’s fixed jaw and clenching fists. Damn it, this is the last thing we need.
I discreetly place my hand over his under the table. “It’s not worth it, Liam. Ignore them.”
Stuart Jr. smirks. “Yeah, Liam, you should probably take her advice. Since she seems to wear the pants in your little..." he waves his hand between Liam and me, "whatever it is."
There are six other people at our table watching our exchange with avid interest. So are the three full tables within earshot.
Liam directs his attention to Stuart Sr. and grins smugly. “Now, Reed, there’s no need to be petty just because my third-quarter profits far exceeded yours. I understand it must sting, knowing that my revenue growth is directly related to your loss, but that’s life, right? You fuck up, you pay the price. I’m sure both you and your son can relate. That said, we’re all professionals here so let’s act like it, shall we?”
Both Jr.’s and Sr.’s ears are red, their tell that they’re fuming. When neither one has a rebuttal, Liam squeezes my knee and redirects his attention to the man at the podium. I cross my legs to ease the sudden ache, strangely aroused from that whole conversation.
As if he’s reading my mind, Liam discreetly bumps his knee into mine and whispers, “Later.”
The entire time we’re listening to the keynote speaker, all I can think is later cannot get here soon enough.
20
Liam
I’ve been on autopilot throughout the entire day. Whenever Avery is brought up in conversation, or if I see in her passing in between workshops, the itch to be inside of her overrides any rational thought. My dick is doing all of the thinking for me which has never happened when business is on the line. It’s a good thing I can do this job in my sleep because people are eating out of my hands when I sing Avery’s praises.
As angry and panicked as she was about this whole mess, I’m strangely carefree. I am not a happy-go-lucky man in general, so I have no clue what this woman is doing to me. If anyone was going to affect me this way, I suppose I can’t be surprised that it’s a brilliant, gorgeous, firecracker like Avery.
I’ve grown a highly successful PR business from the ground up. I excel at public speaking, yet I’m terrified about making my acceptance speech tonight because so much is riding on it. I asked Avery to have faith in me that I’d dispel any nasty rumors, and I’ve done that for the most part during my interactions with key players today. But to tie it all together, I need everyone attending this conference to hear what I have to say about her, including her.
Especially her.
As I enter the ballroom for the final event of the conference, I immediately spot her standing in a corner, surveying the room. She smiles radiantly as I approach which gives me hope about what I’m about to do.
I prop myself against the wall next to her. “How’ve your meetings been today?”
“Good for the most part. I really enjoyed the workshop on how to leverage Instagram and work around their algorithms. I need to set up a training schedule for our social media team as soon as we get back.”
“Sounds good.” I have to make a concerted effort not to stare at her tits. “Are you still planning to meet up with your friend tonight?”
“Heather? Definitely. We’re heading to Blanc. She says she needs a wingwoman.”
I smile suggestively. “Ah, Blanc. Where it all began.”
She smirks. “Well, tonight will have a slightly different outcome on my end.”
I raise my eyebrow. “It’d better be an entirely different outcome on your end.”
Avery laughs. “Oh, really? And if it isn’t?”
I lean into her ear. “Did you miss the part where I claimed your ass last night? Literally and figuratively?”
She shakes her head in amusement. “Definitely didn’t miss that part.”
“Just remember that when you’re getting hit on tonight. Because we both know that’s going to happen.”
Her lip curves into a soft smile. “I’ll keep that in mind, Liam.”
I adjust my cufflinks. “I’m meeting up with Nick. Maybe we’ll head over there.”
“I never pegged you as a possessive guy, before. Oh, how wrong I was.”
I casually tuck my hands into my pockets. “You seem to bring out the caveman in me.”
Avery’s throaty laugh makes my dick perk up. “So I’m learning.”
I tap her shoulder with mine. “You get wet when I behave like a Neanderthal. You love it when I lose control.”
She side-eyes me. “Not when it results in you causing a scene in front of a bunch of our peers.”
“That’s been taken care of,” I say dismissively. “Has anyone bothered you today?”
Avery takes a moment to think about it. "Earlier in the day, some people were whispering here and there, but now that you mention it...no, they haven't. What did you do?"
I grin. “You’ll see.”
21
Avery
“And our last honoree tonight, Liam Maxell of Maxwell & Company. Get up here, Liam.”
I clap as Liam takes the stage and shakes the presenter’s hand. I glance around the room as he takes his place at the podium. Unsurprisingly, he’s commanding more attention than any of the previous honorees. He just has this presence about him that makes you pay attention.
"Thank you," he says as the applause dies down. "Ten years ago, I was a cocky twenty-five-year-old punk with impossible dreams." He smiles when the audience chuckles. "I had only been in PR two years at that point, but I was determined to become one of the big players. I started my firm with very little but quickly made big strides. I've been incredibly fortunate over the years to have staff that makes me look good."
More laughter.
Liam focuses his attention on me. “The past decade has been wonderful, but my world truly changed about eight months ago. That’s when I met Avery Jacobs.”
He nods in my direction, causing everyone's eyes to follow. I can feel my face flushing, and there's not much I can do to stop it.
He clears his throat. "I had been following her career for years, but I never had the pleasure of meeting her in person until that night. And what a night it was." He smirks suggestively, making my face even hotter.
What the hell is he doing?
“I asked her to come out to L.A. and work for me,” he continues. “I don’t know what I did to become such a lucky bastard, but she accepted my offer. Since bringing Avery on board as my director, my profits have grown faster than the previous nine-and-a-half years. Anyone who knows Avery—which I think is a large majority of us—knows how truly talented she is in this field. I think
it's fair to say she has a unique skill set; a true ability to make anyone look good." He grins. "Hell, she's managed to do the impossible and tame me, so that's gotta count for something, right?”
I slouch in my chair as more chuckles spread throughout the room.
Liam gestures to me. "As you can see, I'm embarrassing her so I should probably get to the point." He holds up his award. "I've never been good at sharing, but I owe part of this recognition to her. She's the best director I've ever had, and I'm honored to call her not only my partner in this business but also in life."
What in the actual hell?
“Hopefully one day, there will be two Maxwells behind the Maxwell & Company brand.”
My mouth gapes. Did he just announce to this entire room that he wants to marry me one day?
“To Avery!” Liam says.
“To Avery!” my peers repeat.
I'm still in shock as he takes his seat next to me, so I don't see it coming until he's grabbing my face and pulling me into him. He kisses me in front of all these people, and for a moment, I get lost in it. When I finally come to my senses, I pull back, but he doesn't release me.
My eyes widen. “Did that really just happen?”
“It did.” He smiles. “The question is, how do you feel about it?”
I bite my lip, thinking about it for a moment. “I have conditions.”
His eyes light up. “Is that so?”
“Yep,” I reply in a serious tone.
Liam releases me and sits back in his chair, not giving a damn that the entire room is invested in this conversation.
“First of all, you have to stop being such a possessive ass.”
He laughs. “I can work on that.”
I hold up two fingers. “Secondly, if you think that’s an acceptable proposal, you’re out of your damn mind.”
“Noted.” He nods as a grin spreads across his face.
“Third, if you ever figure out how to propose properly, I’m hyphenating my last name. You good with that?”
His hands cup my cheeks again. “Baby, I’m fucking great with that.”
As he slams his lips against mine again, I don’t even care that the room is erupting in applause. I kiss him back with everything I have, knowing without a doubt, that I’ll be happily kissing this man for the rest of my life.
About the Author
Laura is the bestselling author of The Pixie Dust Chronicles and Dealing With Love series. Her passion has always been storytelling. She spent most of her life with her nose in a book thinking of alternate endings or continuations to the story. She won her first writing contest at the ripe old age of nine, earning a trip to the state capital to showcase her manuscript. Thankfully for her, those early works will never see the light of day again!
* * *
Laura lives in the Pacific Northwest with her wonderful husband, two beautiful children, and three of the most poorly behaved cats in existence. She likes her fruit smoothies filled with rum, her cupboards stocked with Cadbury's chocolate, and her music turned up loud. When she's not chasing the kids around, writing, or watching HGTV, she's reading anything she can get her hands on. She's a sucker for spicy romances, especially those involving vampires, bad boys, or cowboys!
AUTHOR WEBSITE
The Kings of Brighton: Tobias
Megyn Ward
The Kings of Brighton: Tobias © 2018 by Megyn Ward. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner, whatsoever, including internet usage, without written permission from the author, except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
FIRST EDITION 2018
Book design by Megyn Ward
Cover design by Megyn Ward
Cover photo by Adobestock
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Created with Vellum
Prologue
Tobias
Brighton Home for Boys
Brighton, Massachusetts
* * *
I’m awake the second his hand lands on my shoulder, and even though I know it’s him, my hand snaps out of its own volition and snatches the front of his cheap white T-shirt.
“What?” I say, that one word, both question, and threat. Because, even though, I know who it is, I have a hard time keeping my aggression in check.
I always have, for as long as I can remember.
Unfazed, Jase stands over me, hand still planted on my shoulder, his mouth set in a grim line. Beyond him, I can hear sniffles and sobs, muted by the press of a pillow, coming from somewhere inside the dorm.
“Fish’s cryin’, Tob.” He says it quietly, his words barely more than breath. He looks worried. As if to prove it, he shoots a look over his shoulder, giving the dimly-lit dormitory a quick assessment.
Jase has always been tender. Too tender for a place like this. He does a good job of hiding it under his asshole smirk and who gives a fuck shrug. He’s an expert at playing tough which is good because he’s also beautiful—almost too beautiful to be real—with the kind of blond, angelic look that spells disaster in a place like this. Makes you a target. He’s been here going on five years now, off and on, and the only thing keeping him safe in this hellhole is his tough guy swagger and the fact that he’s my brother.
Not my real brother. As far as I know, I don’t have any of those but in a place like Brighton, you take what you can get. Besides, as far I’m concerned a real brother wouldn’t be any better than the ones this place has given me.
Jase and Gray are the only people I care about. Everyone else can get fucked. Especially the pissing-in-his-pants little crybaby fish, balling his head off right now.
He must see it on my face, the fact that I’m going to shove his hand away so I can roll over and go back to sleep because his fingers shape themselves around my shoulder, refusing to be shaken off. “You remember what being a fish was like, don’t you?”
No, I don’t. Because when I got here, I was barely seven years old and practically catatonic from watching cancer eat my mom, from the inside out, until she was nothing but a withered husk in a charity ward hospital bed.
There’s reproach in his tone like my inaction disappoints him somehow. In the dark, more sounds join the muffled crying.
Murmurers and whispers.
Plans being made.
“… I say we just take him into the shower room. Give him a proper welcome. Ain’t no one gonna do nothin’. Staff don’t come in to check for another twenty minutes. That’s plenty of time…”
Victor and his minions.
“Tob.” The impossible blue of Jase’s eyes flare at me in the dark. Urging me to do something. Stop what’s about to happen before it’s too late. Because I’m the only one who can.
“Fine,” I hiss, shoving his hand off my shoulder so I can sit up, swinging my legs over the edge of the stiff, institutional mattress under me. “You’re giving me your chocolate milk at lunch tomorrow, fucker.” When I say it, Jase just grins at me. He knows I don’t mean it. I won’t take his food, and I’d break the hand of anyone else who tried. “Get Gray,” I say, pushing past him. “Meet me in the shower room.”
We split off at the end of my bed. Jase goes left, toward the front of the dorm while I hang a right, moving deeper into the room. Seeing me coming up the center aisle, the whispers and plans dry up with the kind of instant choke that makes me smile. There’s no one in this shithole who wants to mess with me. Not even the big, nasty bastards making plans to catch themselves a fish.
I can feel them glaring at me from their huddle in the dark. I want to stop. Lunge into the black and grab one of them—doesn’t matter which one—and get to work, until my knuckles are bloody and their bones are broken. Until the screaming starts and overhead lights flood the dorm an
d staff are hauling me off to timeout.
Can’t risk it, though. Last time I caught TO, I was gone for three days. When I got back, Jase was in the hospital wing and didn’t make eye contact for over a month. He still won’t talk about what happened while I was gone. The way he woke me up to save the fish, his eyes wide and wounded, gives me a pretty good idea.
No, I can’t risk it. Jase and Gray need me. So, I don’t stop, I don’t even look. I just keep going until I get to the T at the end of the aisle. Sobs are coming from the right, near the shower room.
Lazy-ass staff. They know better than to put a fish so close to one of the only two rooms in this place that offers privacy. Yeah, they know better. They just don’t care.
Stopping at the foot of the crybaby’s bed I take a deep breath. Letting it out slow, I debate on if it’d be better to just to wait for Gray. He’s better at this stuff. He flashes you his pearly whites and I don’t care who you are, you instantly feel better.
Like he senses me standing here, the fish starts crying louder until the kids on either side of him start grumbling at him to shut the hell up.
“Hey, Fish,” I say, my voice a harsh whisper that cuts through the blubbering. “You gotta to stop crying.”
Doesn’t work. He just bawls louder.
I can feel Victor and his crew eyeballing me from behind. Watching. Waiting to see what I’m gonna do.
Shit.
Lunging toward the head of the bed, I jerk the pillow off the crybaby’s face. “Shut-up,” I hiss loudly, snatching him by his arm. I’ve got to get him out of here and somewhere quiet so I can calm him down without an audience.
