Taken

by Jennifer Dawson

  “Indeed,” she says, a ghost of a smile spreading over her lips. “I’m pleased to see you, Brandon.”

  “I’m sure you are,” he says, before addressing his father. “Dad, do you think you could arrange a round of golf at the club between us and the Westwoods?”

  This shocks me, and surprise flashes across Brandon’s parents’ features in time with my own.

  His dad tilts his head. “Are you entering back into the fold?”

  “Don’t get excited, I’m just dabbling.”

  His dad’s jaw tightens. “With your talent for making money, I have no idea why you continue to waste it.”

  Brandon flashes a smile. “My talent for making money is what allows me to do so.”

  His mom clears her throat. “I’m sure we’ll be happy to arrange something.” She glances discretely at me. “I’m not sure how you two even know each other.”

  “You can thank last month’s benefit you forced me into for that.” Brandon rubs the curve of my waist. “Veronica cornered me and harassed me into a position.”

  “I see.” The older woman looks at me. “Well done, dear.”

  A waiter passes and I swoop a flute from the tray, handing one to Brandon before taking one for myself. “It was nothing. It only took constant badgering to wear him down.”

  “How interesting.” Her chin tilts. “Would you join us for brunch tomorrow morning?”

  “No,” Brandon says.

  At the same time I say, “Yes, we’d be happy to.”

  He frowns down at me. “We’re otherwise engaged.”

  Brandon’s parents might be wealthy and reserved, but I sense no hostility toward him. If anything, the slight wistfulness in his mom’s eyes makes me believe she’d like a better relationship with her son. Brandon doesn’t talk about them much, only telling me that they were fine, didn’t talk to him for a while when he abandoned their life, and that he has negotiated to attend events for them.

  Their quick offer to see him tells me they’d like to change that. I flash a smile at him. “I don’t believe so.”

  He grasps me tighter. “Yes.”

  I shake my head. “No, I think brunch with your parents would be quite lovely, especially if you expect me to play eighteen holes of golf.” I appeal to his mom. “That sounds like a fair trade, don’t you think?”

  “That I do.”

  All three of us turn to look at Brandon.

  He sighs. “Fine.”

  His acquiescence, only to please me, makes me fall for him even more, even though I didn’t think that was possible. I beam up at him. “Thank you.”

  Brandon’s mother wastes no time. “How’s ten thirty at the club?”

  Another place where we will be seen. I nod. “That works beautifully.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I spot my parents watching us. My father is frowning, my mom’s brows are furrowed. I tilt my head at Brandon. “My parents.”

  He smiles at his mother and father. “That’s settled then, and don’t forget about golf.”

  His dad nods. “Consider it done.”

  Brandon’s ensuring that our families appear intertwined to everyone who matters, but most important, sending a message to Winston and his family that they are no longer in the fold. It’s amazing what can be accomplished without words in this world.

  We take our leave, and Brandon guides me with a hand on the small of my back to where my parents stand.

  I smile. “Hi, Daddy.”

  “Veronica.” His voice is hard, showing no sign he’s willing to forgive me for my transgressions. He shifts his attention to Brandon. “I see you’ve taken my daughter under your wing.”

  Brandon’s arm slides around my waist. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Westwood. Veronica has been quite an asset to me.”

  My dad’s shoulders square. “That doesn’t surprise me, Veronica has always been a resourceful girl. Although I’m not sure her talents aren’t wasted in her current position.”

  I peer at Brandon, whose grip tightens on my hip before he shrugs. “I’m sure you’re right.”

  “Are you going to rectify that?” my dad asks bluntly.

  I shake my head. “Daddy, stop it. I’m exactly where I want to be.”

  The expression on my mom’s face tightens. “We only want what’s best for you, Veronica.”

  “As do I.” Brandon smiles pleasantly. “Her role will expand if she decides to continue to work for me. If that’s what she wants.”

  This is new information. We have not discussed I’m currently under his employ only as a contractor. I am enjoying the work, but I’m always up for more of a challenge.

  My father’s eyes narrow. “What are your intentions toward my daughter?”

  Brandon takes the question in stride. “I can assure you I only want what’s best for her.”

  “And you think you’re it?” My dad’s face reddens.

  My mom’s lips purse as she studies my father. “Herald, your blood pressure.”

  “Yes, I do,” Brandon answers, his voice strong and sure.

  I sigh. “It’s my decision. And I choose Brandon.”

  “Even if we don’t approve?” my father asks.

  “Even if you don’t approve.” I meet his eyes, and don’t waver. In this I have no doubts.

  Brandon rubs along my waist. “I don’t think it will come to that.”

  “And why do you think that?” My dad’s expression is hard and implacable.

  “Because, despite what you may feel about me, my family is powerful and influential,” Brandon continues smoothly. “My father will be contacting you to join us next week at the club.”

  He lets that hang in the air, letting it sink in. Because it will matter to my parents. Brandon might be a black sheep, but he’s still part of a family that should not be fucked with.

  “How lovely,” my mom says, nodding graciously. “We’ll be looking forward to it.”

  “As will we.” Brandon shifts his attention to my father. “So there’s no room for misunderstanding, Veronica is not an option for Winston Bishop. Whatever business you have with the family will have to be concluded without her help.”

  My father and Brandon stare at each other, and something unknown to me passes between them for several tense, awkward moments, before my dad nods. “Fine.”

  “Good, I’m glad we understand each other,” Brandon says, then shifts toward me. “Would you like to dance?”

  A waltz is playing and I’m desperate to get away from this situation. I smile. “That would be lovely.”

  “It’s been a pleasure to meet you, I look forward to seeing you next week.” And with that, Brandon turns me toward the dance floor.

  We walk, the crowd parting a bit, and I can feel the whispers at my back as Brandon swings me into his arms.

  He glides me perfectly across the floor, maneuvering me until we are front and center. If Winston is in attendance, there’s no way he can miss our presence. I position one hand on his shoulder. “Well, that went as well as can be expected.”

  Brandon strokes down my back. “Do you see what I do for you?”

  For perhaps the first time, his words and his actions really sink in. He’s shunned all of this for years, but he’s putting himself right in the middle of it, for me. Because I matter to him. I’m important. This isn’t about our chemistry, or sex, or desire. In that moment, the full weight of what he’s doing for me resonates deep inside, and I feel like his. Not just my body, but all of me.

  I beam up at him, going to my tiptoes I brush my mouth against his. “Thank you, Brandon.”

  His hand skims up my back and curls around my neck, and he stares deep into my eyes. “What am I going to do with you?”

  “Do you need ideas?”

  He shakes his head, dips down and kisses me. “Come with me.”

  “Anywhere.” And I mean it.

  * * *

  Brandon

  I tug Veronica into an alcove, far enough away from
the party that we won’t be interrupted, and press her against the wall. I cover her body with my own, placing my hands on either side of her head and gazing down at her.

  In the darkened shadows her face is lit by the iridescent glow of the lights. She’s so fucking beautiful my heart squeezes. It seems I cannot get enough of looking at her. I meet her honeyed eyes, my gaze dipping to her mouth, and then back up again. I shake my head.

  She licks her lips. “What?”

  Something unnamed thickens in my blood and I confess. “I adore everything about you.”

  Her expression fills with happiness. “I adore everything about you too, Brandon.”

  I lean down and whisper in her ear, “You drive me crazy.”

  “But in a good way.” It’s not a question.

  “Yes.” I skim my lips over the soft skin at the curve of her neck. “I’m glad I couldn’t say no to you.”

  Her breath hitches. “You have no problem saying no to me now.”

  I smile against her. “But only because you like it so much and beg so sweetly.”

  “Well, what do we have here?” A snide male voice comes from behind me.

  That didn’t take long. Slowly I straighten, lazily turning to face Winston Bishop.

  He’s wearing a tux, a drink in one hand, and his eyes are hard on Veronica, my fingers fall to her hips and I find her tense, her muscles tight.

  I nod, shifting and sliding my hand more firmly around her waist. “Bishop.”

  “Townsend.” My name clipped, he raises a brow at Veronica. “Is this why you haven’t been answering my calls?”

  She goes to open her mouth but I interject before she can speak. “Yes, and it’s in your best interest if you cease, she’s not interested.”

  He scoffs. “She can speak for herself.”

  I smirk, knowing it will drive him crazy. “From my understanding she has been, but you haven’t been getting the message.”

  His gaze turns, narrowing on me. “This isn’t your concern.”

  I run my hand slowly, proprietarily over Veronica’s hip. “But it is. Veronica is very much my concern.”

  Rage flashes over his features, stark and barely contained, before his expression smooths over. “Veronica, we need to talk.”

  This time I keep quiet, letting her take over.

  She takes a deep breath, glancing at me before returning her attention to Winston and shaking her head. “There’s nothing to talk about. It’s over.”

  He jabs a finger in my direction. “Because of him?”

  Her shoulders straighten. “Because of me.”

  I smile a little.

  Winston’s face shudders with anger again before he conceals it, and it sends a whisper of a chill through me. I know that expression. I used to wear it myself when I was an entitled little prick that thought the world owed me something and I was above paying a price.

  Veronica’s chin tilts. “Please leave me alone. You need to stop calling me, stop texting me. It’s over, and it’s time to move on.”

  Winston stares at her for a long, tension-filled moment, before he nods. “Fine, Veronica.” His face shifts into a sneer. “Bitsy is a much better lay than you anyway.”

  Veronica tenses fractionally before smiling. “You two are welcome to each other, it has nothing to do with me.”

  Winston slugs down the rest of his highball. “Good luck, Townsend, she’s cold as fuck in bed, but the connections are good.”

  Veronica has told me about her abysmal relationship with Winston Bishop, so I know all about their lackluster sex life. He’s attempting to bait me, and even though I want to rise to the occasion, I don’t. Because it’s what he wants and not getting the satisfaction will eat at him far more than any response I’d give. “You can go now.”

  Veronica just smiles. “Take care, Winston.”

  He looks first at me and then at her before saying, “This is a mistake.”

  “Mine to make,” Veronica says.

  He gives me one more sneer before spinning and walking away.

  Veronica turns to me, sucking in a breath before blowing it out. “I suppose that went better than I thought it would.”

  I nod. “Hopefully that will be the end of it.”

  “I hope so.” She shakes her head. “I don’t understand why he’s so insistent. It’s not like he was in love with me or anything.”

  “He’s not used to hearing the word no.” I glance back at the party in the main room before returning my attention to her. “But you’ll tell me if he approaches you again.”

  “I will.” Her expression brightens and she rises to her tiptoes and brushes her mouth across mine. “For now let’s enjoy the night.”

  I curl my hand around her waist. “I can do that.”

  Right now I feel like I’d do anything for her. She’s seeped into my blood and there’s nothing I’m able to do to stop her. She has power over me.

  Power I can’t control.

  I’m not even sure I want to. Not with her standing there in her black dress, hair curving around her shoulders, those honeyed eyes staring up at me, sucking me in.

  Breaking me.

  * * *

  Veronica

  * * *

  I’m in the bathroom, washing my hands when Bitsy walks in. The woman I’d considered one of my closest friends.

  Her gaze flickers over me before she lifts one perfectly arched brow. “Brandon Townsend the third, well, congratulations. That’s quite an accomplishment.”

  I straighten. It seems this is the night for confrontation. “He’s not a prize.”

  “Isn’t he though?” She gives me a smile that doesn’t even come close to meeting her eyes. “I called him that night, but you couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

  I don’t address this because there’s really no point. She can’t comprehend that she’d never get Brandon, with or without me in the picture, because to her he’s a trophy, not a person. All she sees now is a perceived competition between us and that I won. “Is that why you’re sleeping with Winston?”

  She smirks. “Oh, little Veronica, I’ve been sleeping with Winston for ages.”

  It doesn’t surprise me, nor does it have any effect on me. I nod. “Well, you’re welcome to him. As a friend, I should tell you that I walked in on him with a blonde that definitely wasn’t you, so be careful. Take care, Bitsy.”

  I step around her and walk out the door. In that moment, I’ve never been so sure that walking away from this life was the best decision I could have ever made. Because eventually, I would have been sucked in, and lost all my humanity and sense of purpose.

  I exit the restrooms, making my way toward where I left Brandon, ready to get the hell out of here. We did what we came here to do; now all I want to do is leave. Maybe we can meet up with Brandon’s friends, the friends that are starting to be my friends as well, and I can be reminded of what decency looks like.

  Gaze trained on Brandon, leaning casually against the wall, hands shoved in his pockets and my chest squeezes. I can’t believe he’s mine. I think of all the things he’s done to me, the things he’s promised to do to me, and shiver. Somehow, someway, he fits me.

  He feels like a home I’d believed I’d never have.

  I walk past an alcove, and suddenly a hand grips my upper arm, hard and tight. I flinch, attempting to jerk away, but my high heels work against me, and I’m tipped off balance.

  I fall into Winston’s arms.

  He wraps around me like a snake and my heart starts to gallop in my chest when I see the look on his face. I’ve only seen that look in his eyes once before, and it terrifies me now, the same way it terrified me back then.

  I push at his chest. “Winston, let me go.”

  “No.” He grips me tighter, pulling me farther into the recesses of what I now see is a hallway. “You’re going to listen to me.”

  I shove harder. I need to get away from him. I can’t let him separate me from the party. Panic fills the back of my thr
oat. “Winston, stop. What is wrong with you?”

  I use my feet as weight to fight against him, to slow him down, but it doesn’t deter him. He picks me up, dragging me into a darkened room and locking me inside.

  The room is pitch-black, and beads of cold sweat break out over my skin, as I flail around in my blindness. “Stop. Let me go. Why are you doing this?”

  He slams me against the door, body checking me to hold me prisoner, as he fumbles around in the dark, before flicking on a light switch and filling the closet with a dim yellowed glow.

  I scream. It pierces the air for a split second before he covers my mouth with his hand, and gives my head a sharp, vicious shake.

  I bite him.

  He yelps in pain, straightens and backhands me across the face.

  My eyes tear as pain explodes along my cheek and I understand the expression seeing stars. I touch my sure-to-be-bruised skin, and meet Winston’s stunned gaze.

  Gone is the out-of-control rage, and left in its place is panic.

  Which somehow scares me even more.

  Because it’s desperate.

  He reaches out and gently cups my shoulders. “Veronica, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it, sweetheart.”

  I flinch before I start shaking. “Don’t touch me.”

  “It will never happen again. I promise.” His voice is filled with remorse.

  I place my palm against my hot cheek. “Why are you even doing this? You don’t love me, Winston.”

  He strokes my upper arms and my skin crawls, but I’m not sure how to get away. Everything is eerily silent, like that strange, still calm before the storm. Like one wrong move will send him over the edge.

  He smiles then, soft and reassuring. “Everything will go back to the way it was, okay.”

  “No. Are you crazy?”

  His face shudders, revealing the monster that lives beneath the surface. “I’m not crazy. I just need you back.”

  “But, why?” I don’t understand any of this.

  He laughs. “I’m not getting cut off because of you, Veronica. And that’s final.”

  “What are you talking about?” Fear lodges in my chest, and I look down at the door handle. If I can open the door, we’ll tumble out into the hall and I’ll be free. I have a better shot if I keep him talking, keep him thinking that I’ll consider this insanity.