Page 38 of The Billionaire's Betrayal
For a fraction of a second, an emotion flashed in her eyes. Discomfort, maybe? But she threw her shoulders back and lifted her chin to talk to the man, who now stood with legs parted, hands on his waistline. Acting like they were old friends.
“Hi, Lawrence. Long time no see,” she said.
“Yeah. I’ve been too busy with work to attend the auctions,” he said, giving her a once-over. “How’s business?”
Brooks’s fingers curled into a fist. A wave of frustration washed over him, and he fought not to rise to his feet and punch the man. Was it pure jealousy? A dark emotion chilled his heart. Or was it him finding it impossible to date her without all the baggage from the past? Would I think differently if I knew this guy? He’d thought he had the antibodies against his father’s blatant sexism, but maybe he still had work to do. “Good,” she said, without offering any information to keep the small talk going.
“If you’ll excuse us,” Brooks said, irritation boiling his blood. He curled his fingers into a ball, ready to punch the man if he dared touch her shoulder.
“Oh,” Lawrence said, glancing at Brooks like he’d just noticed him, his eyes widening. “I didn’t want to interrupt your business dinner. Since I ran into you, I was wondering if—”
“Brooks is my boyfriend. We’re not having a business dinner,” she said, interrupting him and sending Brooks a glance that told him to play along.
A zingy energy passed between them, and a warm sensation flowed inside him, expanding in his chest, and the doubts in his heart nearly dissipated. He covered her hand with his, linking their fingers.
The man scratched his head, his confused gaze darting between the two of them. “I’m sorry. I—”
Brooks waved him off, not making any effort to hide his irritation. “Don’t worry about it.” Just get the hell out of my face.
“Nice seeing you. And you’re a lucky man. I’ll leave you two to it,” he said before finally leaving them alone and returning to his table.
“Boyfriend, huh?” Brooks mocked, loving the way the word rolled off his tongue.
“Sorry for putting you in this position. He’s a nice man who’s become lonely after his wife died. If he thought you were only doing business with me, he’d never leave.”
“I’m glad to be of service,” he lied. A nagging sensation stuck in his throat, and he pushed his dish aside, finding it impossible to finish. She hadn’t meant what she’d said, and he knew why. They’d skirted around the brevity of their romance to enjoy their time together, but she’d made it clear she didn’t want a long-term relationship with him or anyone.
And what good would it do him to insist? None. His father had never been the marrying kind, but he married to follow the family tradition and keep the legacy of the Taylor name. He’d strayed on his mom and never acknowledged Pamela as his daughter. The typical example of a son of a bitch who should have stayed single and, preferably, neutered.
While Alexa didn’t share his father’s lack of character, she was used to a life of auctions and edgy negotiations. Asking her to give it up would only bring resentment.
“Are you okay?” Alexa asked, after the waiter poured more wine into her glass.
“Does this happen often? Men just coming up to you and thinking because you run an auction, you’re game for sex?” he said, unable to keep the anger from his words. He ran his fingers down his face, rubbing his stubbly chin. Saying his feelings out loud brought another current of jealousy through him.
“Not as much as you’d think. Some guys need a refresher, but I’m good at putting them in their place.”
Her answer did nothing to dampen his apprehension. The thought of her walking down her street at night and being harassed by an asshole who thought he had a right—because of her job—tightened Brooks’s chest. “Your line of work is dangerous, Alexa. I don’t want anything to happen to you.” What if an angry client hurt her? The idea brought bile to his throat.
She lifted her glass and spoke over the rim. “I’ve been doing a good job of taking care of myself.”
“And you won’t let anyone else do it.”
“I’m not used to anyone else doing it,” she snapped back, a hint of defensiveness in her voice.
“So what? You’ll just be on your own for the rest of your life?”
Annoyance glittered in her eyes. “I’d rather be on my own now than listening to your condescending spiel. If you’re going to continue, I’ll cut tonight short and leave.”
“I apologize,” he rushed to say. He’d pushed too far and insisting would only drive her away. She was completely right—it was her life, her choice, and he had no say in the matter. It bothered him, but this wasn’t the time to bring it up. Wanting to be a part of her life, as crazy as it sounded, bothered him more.
She drummed her fingers on the table. “How about you? What’s your five-year plan? I’m sure there’s a savvy businesswoman in Texas who would love to snatch you up.”
He bit back a smile. “I’m not opposed to marriage. I’ve always treaded carefully because picking the right person is key.”
She nodded quickly, then opened her mouth, but didn’t say anything. The flicker of annoyance returned to her eyes, along with a trace of sadness. “Couldn’t agree with you more.” She looked away. “Now, onto sweeter topics…are you ready for dessert? I hear the crème brûlée is great.”
