Leaving the bathroom I find Saxon waiting in the hallway, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He looks so casual and relaxed, so much younger and carefree with no tie and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
When he turns my way and our eyes meet he instantly straightens and heads towards me, his face lit up with the sweetest smile. My heart melts, and I give him a small smile.
Reaching down and grabbing my hand he pulls me down the hallway. Making our way into the club, Saxon calls over his shoulder, “We’re leaving.”
“What?” I pull his hand to bring him to a stop. He turns to look at me, his face falling as he studies me. “I can’t leave. What will the girls think if we leave together? My God, what are they already thinking?” My heart races and I try pulling my hand from Saxon’s hold but his grip only tightens.
“I don’t give a fuck what they’re thinking.”
“Well I do,” I shout. His face hardens and my stomach tightens in guilt. “I’m sorry, it’s just that it’s girls’ night and it’s not over yet. I don’t want to be rude.”
Even though I can’t hear it I can see Saxon releasing a deep sigh as he drops his head. “Brooke, it’s late. I’m sure the girls are heading home shortly. The club closes up soon anyway. Tell them you’re sick or something and I’m taking you home.”
“Are you taking me home?”
He nods solemnly. “Yes, Brooke, I’ll drop you home. Alone.” I hate how he can read me so well and reading me means hurting his feelings, but he knows how I feel. I’ve never hidden my feelings from him. We can’t forget what this relationship is based on and why it works.
I nod and he takes that as my agreement as he turns and continues pulling me through the crowd and up the stairs to my group of friends. We head towards the table and find Rachel, Harper, and the guy she was dancing with sitting there.
Harper has a small smirk on her face while Rachel’s face is laced in confusion, and I know she must have a million questions she wants to ask me. She looks down at our entwined fingers and her eyes widen. I quickly try and pull my fingers out of Saxon’s, but he just tightens his grip again.
Maybe leaving with him is a better idea than staying with Rach knowing she will grill me with questions for the rest of the night.
“Where are Grace and Sheree?” I yell to no one in particular.
“Picked up guys,” Harper yells back. I nod awkwardly, not sure the best way to announce I’m leaving with Saxon as though it’s no big deal.
I lean into Rachel’s ear, “I’m not feeling well. Saxon is going to take me home.”
“What’s going on, Brooke?” she asks seriously.
“Nothing.” I hate lying to her; she’s my best friend.
“What is he even doing here?” I’m thrown by her question, realising I actually have no idea what he’s doing here.
“I don’t know, but I told him I was feeling unwell, and he’s offered to drive me home.”
“Where did you go for so long?” She’s firing off the questions, and I’m not equipped to answer them.
“I just feel sick, Rach, and really need to go,” I state desperately.
Rachel jumps up, grabbing her purse. “Well, I’ll come home with you. We can catch a taxi.”
“No, stay.” I stop her. “I’ll call you tomorrow, I promise.” I know I’m going to have to tell her everything soon, but I’m not in a rush to see the disgust in her face at what I’ve done.
I turn to leave before she can fire any more questions at me or I break down and tell her everything. She doesn’t make a move to follow, just stares blankly at me as I turn to gesture goodbye to Harper.
Harper winks at me as if she knows something I don’t, and I stare at her intently, hoping I can read her mind.
Saxon places his hand on my lower back, pulling my gaze away from Harper, and guiding me away from the table while he gives Rachel a nod and Harper a guilty smile. What is that about?
He leads me out of a staff exit and to his parking spot in the back staff lot. He opens the door for me, and I ease myself into the seat.
Smelling the familiar scents of new car and Saxon’s cologne, I relax back and close my eyes with a small smile playing on my lips, happy to be back in his presence. I can’t believe how much I missed him tonight.
Getting into the driver’s seat, Saxon starts the car and reverses out of the parking space. The silence is comfortable and I have the strangest feeling in my belly. It’s not butterflies or nervousness—actually, it’s the opposite. When I’m with Saxon I’m comfortable. I’m relaxed and feel safe. I don’t know how to explain it, but with Saxon comes a sense of peace.
I decide to test the peace by finding out what the hell was going on tonight. “Why were you there tonight? Did Harper tell you where we were going?”
He doesn’t seem perturbed by my question. “I’m sure Harper will tell you on Monday anyway.” He sighs deeply. “After you said you were going out with her to that grungy cesspit I approached her and told her to go my friend’s club. He’s owned it for years, but recently he’s done it up to be a bit more upper class, and I knew you’d be safe there. Where I could make sure you were looked after.”
“What do you mean looked after?”
“Give you the VIP treatment, have you looked after.”
“You mean watched?” I ask him incredulously.
“Brooke,” he warns.
“What the hell, Sax? Did you have people watching me?”
“They’re security, Brooke. They watch everyone.”
“Yeah right,” I scoff. Suddenly the whole night starts piecing together. “Is that why we were the only people sitting in the VIP area upstairs?” Saxon’s silence is the only answer I need. “What made you come?”
The anger is radiating off of me, and I can see him thinking carefully about his answer. “I got a phone call when you left the VIP area,” he says softly.
I don’t know what to say. I shake my head and turn to face out the window. Saxon places his hand on my thigh. “Don’t,” I seethe between my teeth. He quickly pulls his hand away, and we continue on in an uneasy silence.
I can’t believe this. I was with Nate for ten years and he was never so… so… controlling, scheming, protective… crazy-ass nuts. I just don’t get it. What is he thinking? I should pull back, end this thing we have going on before it gets really out of hand.
Closing my eyes, I listen to the soft music playing on the car stereo. I don’t want to end this. The friendship we have built is all I have going for me at the moment. It’s the only reason I can get out of bed some days. I’m angry he thinks he has any right to manipulate my life like that, but I’m also touched by how much he cares, how much I must mean to him.
I look over at Saxon. I take in his beautiful features: those piercing green eyes, that soft black hair, his strong jaw, which I can see is tensing as I stare at him. I follow his arms down to his strong forearms and look at his hand resting on his thick thigh.
I don’t want to fight. I just want to enjoy him, have him around. I decide to be selfish and continue taking what I want from him, what I need. “Want to go get an early breakfast? I’m starved after all that dancing.”
The corner of his mouth turns up as he throws a massive U-turn. I know he’s trying to hold his smile back. I notice the hand on his thigh is flexing so I reach over, placing my hand on top of his and linking our fingers.
Four weeks later
Saxon and I have been so busy at Argo now that I’m getting more and more experienced. We’re getting stuck into the more nitty-gritty tasks and they require a lot more time and concentration.
I don’t get my daily gossip sessions with Harper anymore, and sometimes it feels like days before I even get to see her. She was able to tell me that she’s been seeing the guy from the club for the last few weeks though, and apparently, things are progressing nicely.
As I go over some numbers before sending them to Ruth, my office door swings open a
nd Saxon walks in. He’s got his confident and cocky walk happening so he must be happy about something. “Will you ever knock?” I ask him, trying to sound serious.
“Why would I knock? What could you possibly be doing which I can’t see?” he asks as he stands in front of my desk with cocky grin.
“I’m going to start locking it,” I grumble
Saxon laughs at me. “The only time your door needs to be locked is if I’m on this side of it.”
I roll my eyes at him. “What is it I can help you with?”
“I just came to remind you about the gala tonight. Weren’t you going to leave early to get your hair done or something?”
I groan as I drop my head to the table. “Please don’t make me go.” I’m getting sick of these dinners, functions, galas, and charity events. I’m sick of having to dress up and listen to boring industry mumbo-jumbo talk. I never know what they are on about, and I always feel like a fish out of water.
“Come on, Brooke. They aren’t all that bad. At least we have each other. I used to have to do a lot on my own with Nate sneaking home to you, and you are a much better date than he ever was.”
I give him a small smile for trying to make me laugh. “Fine,” I groan as I stand from my desk, “but I’m leaving now so I can add a mani and pedi to my hair-and-makeup appointment.”
Saxon smiles. “Go on and add a massage too. You look tense.”
Grinning widely, I begin shutting down my computer and grab my purse. Those numbers can wait until Monday.
“I’ll pick you up at seven,” he says.
“Great,” I mumble, and Saxon chuckles as we leave my office.
Sitting in the plush leather chair at the salon, I look in the mirror and barely recognise myself. The beauty consultant is putting the finishing touches to my makeup, and I peruse my new look.
They’ve pulled my long curls up into a messy style sitting below my ears and held in place with a crystal hair clip. My toes and fingernails are painted a soft gold, my feet are scrubbed to within an inch of their life, and my hands are soft and supple. My makeup is heavy with the feature being my dark smokey eyes.
“You look gorgeous, Brooke,” my hairdresser, Beth, calls over from her next client.
“Thanks, I feel gorgeous.” And I do. Maybe for once I won’t feel so out of place at one of these events. I leave the salon, waving at all the girls as they wish me a great night.
Arriving home, I decide a quick bath would be easier than trying to shower with hair and makeup done. Once I’ve washed off I quickly hop out and dry myself. I haven’t a lot of time left before Saxon comes, and I still need to dress. Running into my room I hear the doorbell. Shit.
I slip on my robe as I rush to the door. I fling it open to let Saxon in and plan to just run back to my room. Instead I pause. No matter how many times I see this man in a tuxedo it still throws me off balance. He looks fierce and formidable, and my mouth starts to water. What is he doing here? What is he doing with me? Playing keeper to the broken woman.
“So you approve of my outfit?” He gives me a cocky grin.
Warmth floods my face and I’m brought back to the moment. “Sorry I’m running late. I just have to get my dress on, and I’ll be ready.” Looking behind Saxon I see a limo sitting by the curb. “Shit, we have a car? Will it cost us if I’m late?”
“He’ll wait,” he says as he enters my house and shuts the door behind him.
Running off back to my bedroom, Saxon laughs. “Do you need a hand getting dressed?”
Ignoring his smart-ass comment, I go into my bedroom and grab my dress, stepping into it and doing up the side zip. It’s an emerald-green chiffon number which has a gathered strap over one shoulder only and pinches around the waist to then fall down to the ground, a slit up to my left thigh.
Sitting on my bed, I slip on my gold heels. Not caring how late we are, I sit and admire how beautiful they look. I‘ve always loved heels, and now having to work in them every day and going to all these functions I can actually walk in them too.
I quickly throw my powder, lipstick, license, and credit card into my gold clutch and grab my jewellery on the way out of the bedroom. As I reach Saxon I’m sliding my wedding rings into place and his eyes follow my actions.
“Can you put this necklace on for me?” My question pulls his eyes up to mine, and I can tell he is thinking hard about something. His brows furrow in thought.
He looks at me with a blank expression, and I assume he hasn’t registered my question. I hold the necklace out to him, and he retrieves it from my hand. Turning around, he understands my signal and reaches around the front of me to place the necklace around my neck.
Once he has secured the clasp he rests his hands on my shoulders and gives them a small squeeze. It’s a platonic gesture, and I smile at the friendship we have built.
Before I can turn around and usher him out his warm lips land on my bare shoulder. I freeze at the contact.
He places a few light kisses up to my neck and a shiver rolls through me. “You look beautiful, Brooke,” he whispers, his warm breath flowing over the sensitive spot under my ear. “Well, you always look beautiful, but tonight you look stunning.”
“Thank you,” I whisper. I’m unable to piece more words than that together as his warm kisses and soft touches linger in my mind.
He runs his hands slowly down my bare arms before kissing me one last time on my shoulder. I’m left in shock as he quickly grabs my hand and begins leading me to the front door.
We chat the whole way to the gala as if we didn’t just have a moment at my place, talking about random stuff as well as the who’s who of tonight’s gala. Saxon gives me the ins and outs and tells me what and who to avoid. He always gives me a great rundown before any event, and I don’t think I’ve ever told him how much I appreciate it.
We pull up to the undercover drive-through in front of the hotel and the doorman opens the limo door for us. As Saxon slides over to step out I place my palm on his thigh, halting him. He turns back to look at me, concern and confusion on his face. “Thank you,” I tell him. “Thank you for everything.”
He gives me a soft smile with a nod and steps out of the limo. Sliding over, I grab his offered hand as I go to stand. He places my hand in the crook of his elbow as he holds it and leads me into the hotel.
We head straight to the elevator, and it’s times like this I’m thankful for his controlling, assertive and protective ways.
Saxon always stays by my side and never leaves me to fend for myself. He always gets my drinks and food and includes me in conversation he knows I’m comfortable with and steers conversation away from me when I’m not.
As we ride the elevator up to the fifth floor I squeeze his arm, and he lightly pats my hand. It’s comforting, and I can’t help but smile at him in the mirror reflection of the elevator.
Who would’ve ever thought Saxon and I could become this close? That I would come to rely on him so much? Not just to fill my physical needs or to support me with the business, but filling my emotional and intimacy needs as well.
Exiting the elevator into a foyer there is a small bar to the right and large double doors ahead of us. There are quite a number of people milling around. Saxon leads us to the double doors and as we step in I can’t help but gasp.
It’s the most beautiful ballroom I’ve ever been in. Straight ahead there is a huge stage with what looks like a ten-piece band. At the moment only a few of them are playing classical music, but there are many other instruments waiting for others to play later. Excitement takes over as I see an opportunity for dancing, slow dancing, which I love.
Glancing further around the room there are twenty-plus round tables surrounding the dance floor, which is in front of the stage. They are covered in crisp white linens and the finest cutlery and crockery. Huge gold candelabras adorn the centre of each table.
I glance up, trying not to make a scene, but the ceilings must be at least forty-feet tall and are supported by huge
gold columns. The right wall is glass foldaway doors leading onto what I assume is the balcony.
I can’t take my eyes off all the gold features or the beautiful view from the glass doors overlooking the parklands. I’m instantly attracted to the ballroom and picture it as the perfect wedding venue.
Being pulled out of my daydream by Saxon’s small tug on my hand, I turn to him and follow his eyes to the man approaching.
“Saxon,” the short, fat, bald man croons.
“Dennis,” Saxon says as they shake hands. “May I introduce Brooke Willis?”
“Ah yes, Nate’s old girl,” the old man says not even looking my way.
“Yes, she is Nate’s wife, as well as the new owner of Argo,” Saxon tells him firmly.
“There’s been a lot of talk about that going around.”
I raise my eyebrows, not realising I would be the topic of conversation in the finance industry.
“You’ll be fine as long as you keep this man here in charge. You’re nothing without him.” Fatty chuckles, and I want to punch him right in the nose. I know he’s right, but hell, I thought there was some code of etiquette at these things.
“Actually, Brooke is picking it up like a pro. I have no doubt she’ll do great things with Argo,” Saxon says, smiling softly down at me and lightly squeezing my hand which is still clutched in his elbow.
The old guy ignores Saxon’s comment and cuts in, “How about that Matino case?”
Saxon squeezes my fingers in his grip as he and the old guy enter into a conversation about numbers, figures, and stats. All I hear is blah, blah, blah. Glancing around, I take stock of everything happening around me, mostly just older businessmen standing in small groups talking. I can tell they’re discussing business, because their faces are serious and their arms flap about wildly gesturing, just like Baldy is doing now.
There is a distinct separation between the men and women, the latter of whom are sitting around the tables. I have to assume it’s gossip they are discussing, as they lean into each other like what they are talking about is top secret. Someone should tell them their latest plastic surgery is no secret.
Wherever You Will Go Page 20
