AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Please don't forget the Rosewood event. I'll have my assistant send her the details."
Her. He didn't think Jillian had ever muttered Layana's name. A small snub, but noteworthy. Jillian was more of a mother to him than his own. It was important to him that they got along.
Chapter 16
Jillian didn't give up; I'd give her that. From the start, she had laid down a battle line in front of Brant and prepared for war. Every one of our dates had despite her best efforts, his schedule often disrupted by "emergency items” stuck in on a day that should be free. Twice during the preceding months, he had completely stood me up, Jillian texting with a bullshit excuse after repeated calls to his cell went unanswered.
The worse part, Brant let her do it all, and dismissed her actions with a shrug of his shoulders. He wouldn’t even tell me what the emergencies typically were. Everything fell under the confidentiality needs of BSX, and I had stopped asking questions, frustrated by my inability to get information or be intelligent enough to understand it.
We were at Nightbird, four courses into their dinner menu, at a coveted table by the window. I waited until a waiter passed, then spoke. “I don't understand why she hates me."
“Jillian's just protective," he explained. "And stubborn," he added, using the edge of his fork to cut into a lightly crusted scallop.
"Protective? Why?" I stared at him across the table, his features lit by the glow of the candles around the restaurant. He wore a loose white V-neck tee paired with designer jeans and the watch that glinted off of his wrist had been a thirty-fifth birthday present from yours truly. He looked every bit a California playboy. What he didn't look like was a genius. Geniuses weren't supposed to come in perfect packages with straight teeth, movie star looks and a muscular build. They were supposed to come with pocket protectors and acne scars, horrible table manners and obnoxious egos.
The beautiful man before me shrugged and took a sip of ice water. "She's always been worried about a woman going after me for the wrong reasons."
I nodded. "That's reasonable." I didn't know a wealthy man who didn't share the same concern. But those same men still ate up the benefits of their wealth and went through twenty-year-old cocktail waitresses like they were Kleenex. Brant ... well. Everything Brant did was different. "Does that worry you?"
He stopped chewing. "Worry about you?" He sounded genuinely confused. "Dating me for my money?"
"Or your brain. Or that cock." I raised my eyebrows suggestively at him, but his serious expression didn't change.
"It's never crossed my mind."
I ran my fingers over the back of his hand, and it rolled under my touch until our palms met. He brought it to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on my fingers.
I smiled. "Thanks for the vouch of confidence."
"Thanks for sticking with me,” he said, as if it was a chore.
"We're still on for this weekend, right? You, me, and Belize?"
"Wouldn't miss it."
Our connection was broken by the wait staff, who brought our fifth course, which looked like stuffed goldfish crackers on a bed of stones. They presented the plates as if it they were gold, then quietly left. We picked up our chopsticks and our conversation moved from Jillian to Christmas and how we would divide the holiday between our two families.
But his aunt didn't leave my mind. I understood protectiveness. I felt the same emotion where Brant was concerned—a fierce need to protect what was mine. The problem for Jillian was that he wasmine. Not hers. An aunt didn't have any property to protect, no claim over which to assert her dominance. And it was too late. I had him—had never been so sure of anything in my life.
As it turned out, I was a stupid, self-assuming girl, sitting at that table, so smug in my confidence.
I'd never been so wrong.
I didn't have him.
I only owned half of him. The other half? It was a living a life I knew nothing about.
Chapter 17 - Brant
I'd been with a hundred women, but never loved one until her. I could be with a thousand more and never find another Layana. She was beautiful, classy, but with a sharp edge that defined her personality, a thread of dark that complemented all of her light. One that would cut you should you cross her. One that would fight for her wants, her needs, her opinions. She stared in my eyes and loved me with a vehemence all her own. A scary, passionate type of love. One that ripped away all pretenses and allowed us to love each other bare and without consequence.
I understand that my parents were scared. That Jillian fought against Layana with claws out, terrified that her involvement in my life would cause a repeat of the past. But I was stronger now. A man, not the boy of before. I'd never felt so in control, so grounded. It was as if all of the madness, the colors, the insanity, had disappeared. Maybe it's from the medication, maybe it's from maturity. But I wasn't gonna risk it; I'd continue the medication until the day I died. It balanced me, kept me sane. It kept my relationship with Layana safe. With its help, she’d never know.
True love made a person reckless, made them take risks and make sacrifices. True love tested the boundaries of our person, made us yearn to be better and fight for the ground we stand on. I would fight for this love. Lie for it. Steal for it. It was worthy of that. On paper, we were a horrible match. I had no light; she brimmed with it. I was serious; she was fun. But off paper, that was where our magic occurred. I wanted to be more like her. I wanted to listen to her laugh and have had something to do with it.
I loved her completely.
She returned the love wildly.
