Page 21 of Brant
Instead, it had ended up with him dragging her from the ballroom and accusing her of flaunting herself, allowing Jason to touch her inappropriately. Yet he was the one who had deserted her and danced with all those bitches, probably ones he had slept with. Oh! Sitting up in bed, she stared out at the dull grayness of the morning, the weather mirroring her mood. Well, she was going to confront him. This morning they were going to have it out. He did not get to accuse her like that and get away with it.
He was going to apologize and explain his behavior to her.
With that in mind, she shoved off the bed and went to the bathroom. She would fortify herself with a quick shower and make herself presentable before confronting him.
Selecting soft bright orange leggings, she paired them with an even softer midnight black sweater. Scooping her hair into a loose pile on top of her head, she studied herself in the mirror and nodded. If she was going to have a full-blown argument with him, she wanted to look good having it.
He was used to congenial Indigo but was in for a big surprise. She was boiling hot.
Firming her lips, she slid her feet into soft inside mules and marched out of the bedroom and into the sitting room. She had just yanked open the door when she saw the piece of folded paper on the floor. Stopping to pick it up, she opened it and felt a jolt at the very neat handwriting.
A note from him.
'I want to apologize for my behavior last night. It was inexcusable. I also want to assure you that there will not be a repeat. I'm going to the club for the day, after which I will be traveling to Europe on business for a week. Take care. Brant.'
That was it, precise and formal. Leaning against the wall, she read the note again as if she could detect some hidden meaning.
He had apologized. Wasn't that what she wanted? An apology. But this was much more. He had sounded like a stranger. Not the friendly Brant she had come to appreciate.
And he was gone, would be gone for a week. The air whooshed out of her in a defeated sigh. All the anger that had been building up inside her just dissipated like a puff of smoke, leaving her miserable and sad.
Folding the note and tucking it into the side pocket of her leggings, she made her way toward the stairs and stopped. Taking a deep breath, she had time to wonder if he had cameras installed in his room. She would take the chance. Turning back, she approached the double doors of his suite and tried them, expelling a breath of relief that they were not locked.
Pushing the doors open, she stepped into the large sunken living room that was a lot bigger than hers and more austere. He had gone for neutral colors. Pale gold floorings, paneled walls, a huge television mounted on the wall, large fireplace, pricey artworks on display and several leather sofas in soft yellow grouped around the room. There was a cabinet, complete with stools, a decanter arranged artfully with tumblers and shelves where there were several bottles tucked into pockets.
Wandering from the sitting room, she stepped into a bedroom, twice the size of hers, with windows dominating the four corners, except for the massive fireplace that took up an entire space. And the bed! She stared in amazement at a custom-built bed that stood on a raised dais with steps leading up to it.
The headboards were massive, the etchings lovely. She always had an eye for antiques and identified it as one. The dresser and armoire were massive, towering up toward the concave ceiling.
The closet had no doors, just a wide open space with revolving shelves, and made hers look like a joke. And the man had a ridiculous amount of clothes and shoes. It was like wandering into a department store, the men's section. Giving in to her curiosity and the need to know who he was, she walked in and wandered around, touching a soft sweater here and a jacket there. A whimsical smile touched her lips as she rubbed her cheek against a suit jacket. His scent hit her like a ton of bricks and had her knees weakening.
His cologne was subtle and spicy. So much like him. Her hands moved over the sweaters, folded neatly on the shelves. He had a curved bench for sitting and putting on his shoes. And so many ties! Sitting, she allowed her eyes to roam the space with a feeling of nostalgia.
She sat there for a minute before getting up and going into the bathroom. The first thing that hit her was the scent of his aftershave. The second thing was the huge shower. It couldeasily hold a dozen people. The fancy and complicated-looking knobs had her shaking her head.
This was how the other half lived, she mused in dazed wonder. It never occurred to her how much money he had until now. Before, he was just Brant, a man who had rescued her from sudden poverty and homelessness. But now, seeing this, she realized that she was way out of her league and had no right thinking that something was going to happen between them. Who was she kidding? she thought in despair.
He could do so much better and they both knew it. Turning around, she left the suite of rooms and went downstairs. Making a pot of coffee, she wandered over to the window and stared out broodingly at the snow piled on the ground. She would go and visit her brother and try to get out of this funk she was in. It was no use sitting here in this empty place, feeling sorry for herself.
It was snowing when he arrived. The Elite Club, the exterior vying with the thick snow falling from a leaden sky, rose majestically from its place on a slight incline, giving the members a view of spectacular grounds and wild landscape. There was a stillness, an eerie quiet as if all of the occupants had taken to their rooms.
The front doors swished open soundlessly. A doorman dressed in the club colors of red and black stood to attention while a valet rushed forward to take his case. The club offered excellent and prestigious service, and how could they not? Brant mused wryly. For the staggering amount they charged for membership, the members would accept nothing less. A few stragglers were seated in the main parlor, where a fire was crackling in the large hearth. Drinks were being served, and as it was almost time for lunch, people were gathering inside the various dining rooms.
He was in no mood for company, not right now. He had refused to dwell on the fact that he had hightailed it away from his own home because he could not stand being near to her. Following the valet to his suite of rooms, he took the case from him and did not offend him by offering him a tip. That was simply not allowed at the club. Their employees were paid well enough if one was fortunate enough to be employed here. And the club owners as well as the board were of the opinion that tipping an employee was not classy.
And the club believed in its values, even if over the last decade or so they had to relax their rigid principles on who got to become members. There was no longer the stipulation that one had to come from a long line of men who had been members from the beginning. It was also no longer an all-white club. The only thing they stood firm on was that it was strictly a gentleman's club, so no women would ever be a member.
Setting his case at the foot of the bed, Brant shrugged out of his coat and strode to stand in front of the fireplace, relishingthe warmth seeping into his skin. He had written her a note of apology, hadn't he? He had apologized for his appalling behavior, and it had been appalling. He could not believe he had acted like a jealous fool in front of hundreds of people, some of whom were his friends. That was not like him, and it pissed him off to realize that he had been brought so low. He was never jealous; that was certainly not an emotion that had ever plagued him.
Striding over to the table where they had laid out refreshments, including a bottle of whiskey and a coffee pot, he chose the whiskey. Pouring half a glass, he took it with him to sit in front of the fire. Now that he had time to examine his feelings and give free rein to his thoughts, he wondered if it had anything to do with their close proximity and the fact that he had not been with a woman in a long time.
He should avail himself of one of those willing ones that were always hanging around the club. He had glimpsed a few on his way in. He could make a call or simply go back out. But it wasn't going to happen, he told himself grimly, which left him with the dismal thought of drowning himself in liquor. Or he could go to one of the card games and try to immerse himself.
There were always activities going on. If it wasn't cards, then it would be something else, like a game of pool, darts or even indoor swimming. He would find something to occupy his mind. It was only one day.
Tomorrow he would fly to Europe, where he would be engaged in some very important business. And he would be spending a week. Surely, by the time he returned, things would be back to normal. He hoped.
The phone rang just as she secured the stuff she was taking to her brother into the back seat. Ignoring the sudden leap of her pulse, she dug it out of her enormous purse and had to stifle her disappointment when she discovered it wasn't him. Her disappointment was replaced by alarm as she recognized the number and almost allowed it to go to voicemail.
