Entwine (Billionaire Series) (4 page)

She was still thinking
about the similarities and differences of the two men she was torn between when
she arrived back at her apartment. She was so preoccupied that she almost
stepped on the figure sitting in front of her door.

“Brad!” Jennifer
stumbled backwards, cheeks flaming at the sound of her squeaking his name.

“Hiya, babe!” Brad
bounced to his feet. A wide grin spread across his face. He looked good in a
pair of faded jeans and a fitted black t-shirt. “Thought I'd surprise you but
it turned out that your roommate wasn't here to let me in either.”

Jennifer shook her
head, automatically answering. “No, she's at the restaurant today.” She fumbled
the keys in her hand as she tried to find the right one. She hadn't been
expecting to come home and find Brad there and her brain was scrambling to
catch up. “U-uh…come on in.”

Brad followed
Jennifer into the apartment. “Looking good, Jenny.”

She could hear the
admiration in his voice and thought of how nice it was to get a compliment and
know that it wasn't because he expected sex. “Thank you.” She set down her
purse and keys. “Have a seat while I go change.”

Brad settled on the
couch while Jennifer headed into the bedroom. She thought about trying to find
something casual-dressy, her ingrained response being to make herself nice for
Brad, but the thought of that much effort only made her feel even more tired
than she already was. “Fuck it,” she muttered as she pulled a pair of gray
cut-off sweats and a black t-shirt out of her dresser. She'd had a tough
twenty-four hours and she just wanted to be comfortable. If her ex didn't like
it, he could leave. She walked back out into the living room, steeling herself
to deal with snide comments about how she was letting herself go. What she
wasn't prepared for was the look of concern on Brad's face.

“Jennifer, are you
okay?” He slid over on the couch and patted the seat next to him.

She sat on the edge
of the cushion, still not entirely sure if she could trust this side of Brad.
She very much wanted to, but, at the same time, knew she should be cautious.
She was just so tired of having her guard up all of the time.

“You can talk to
me,” Brad said, turning slightly so he could focus all of his attention on
Jennifer.

She nearly squirmed under the intensity of his gaze. She'd never had Brad so
intent on her while they were talking. He was notorious for only half listening
to anything she had to say. “Well…I had a bad day at work. A bad couple of
days, actually. It's no big deal, really.”

Brad looked at her
expectantly. “You'll feel better if you talk about it.” He stretched his arm
along the back of the couch, but didn't touch her.

Jennifer was going
to refuse to talk, to just shake it off and pretend that it didn't matter, but
the look of concern and sympathy on Brad's face was so refreshing, after hours
of Philip's aloof demeanor, that she gave in.

“My boss is really
moody.”

“The guy from the
hotel?” Brad prompted.

Jennifer nodded.
“He hired me as his assistant and told me that he wanted to groom me to one day
be a manager or higher, but sometimes he acts like I'm not even there. He goes
from wanting me to do all kinds of stuff, and other times, it's like I'm not
competent enough to answer his phone.” Jennifer prayed her cheeks wouldn't give
away that she wasn't just talking about work.

“The guy doesn’t
sound like he’s a very good boss,” Brad said. He touched her shoulder but
didn't linger, as if unsure how his touch would be taken. “If he can't see how
great you are at your job, he's either blind or an idiot.”

A memory flashed
into Jennifer's mind and she couldn't resist asking. “Why the sudden change of
heart?”

Confusion crossed
Brad's face. “I don't understand.”

“You don't remember
telling me to get a boob job because that’s the only way I could get a
promotion at my job?” Jennifer was more honestly curious than angry. She'd long
since decided that being angry at things like that wasn't worth the effort. Now
she just wanted to know. What Brad was saying now didn't mesh with his previous
behavior and she was wondering what had caused the change.

Brad flushed and
had the good grace to look embarrassed. “Things like that are part of why I
came by today. I wanted to talk to you about what happened between us.” His
eyes darted away from hers and back again. “But that can wait if you need to
debrief some more about work.”

“No,” Jennifer
shook her head. She couldn't tell Brad anything more specific about what was
going on with Philip without revealing the personal side of the relationship.
Besides, she was truly interested in what he had to say about their past,
especially in light of Philip's own prior relationship appearing at the office.
“I'm more interested in talking about us.”

Brad's eyes lit up
at her use of the word
us
, and Jennifer immediately regretted its use.
It was too late to take it back so she just decided to plow ahead. “What did
you want to talk about?”

Brad started to
reach for her and then seemed to think better of it. His hand dropped back down
onto the couch. “When we were together, I said a lot of mean things, things
that hurt you.” He locked eyes with her. “I'm sorry, Jennifer. I never meant
the way those things came out. Most of the time I was just trying to say
something that would help you or point something out to you and it just came
out all wrong.” He looked away from her as he continued. “You know that I've
never really been good with words. Sports and numbers were always my thing. So,
sometimes when I would say those mean things, it was just because I didn't know
how to say them the right way.”

Jennifer couldn't
believe it. Brad was apologizing? That definitely wasn't like him. And what he
said made sense. He hadn't really done poorly in school, but communication
never had been his strong suit. Was it really possible that all of those things
he'd said, they'd been met to help her and not hurt her? Could he really have
just been unable to articulate his true feelings?

“I've always been
like this, you know,” Brad looked up at her from under his thick lashes and her
heart constricted. “I think it's because my parents always told me that men
don't talk about their feelings, so I never learned how to express myself.
Think about it. My dad never told me he loved me. He'd talk sports with me,
usually to tell me how I could do better or something. He never once said he
was proud of me. It was always criticisms, what I'd failed at, not what I did
well. I think I just learned it from him.”

“What made you come
to this realization?” Jennifer's mouth was dry. She'd never dreamed that Brad
could be any deeper than the physical stuff.

Brad shrugged. “I
looked into other stuff I could do with my degree and was told that I could do,
like, Masters classes. One of them was this psychology course so I took it.
Lots of interesting stuff and it made me think about our relationship and where
it had gone wrong.”

“And you think it
was all about the things you said to me?” Jennifer wanted to ask about the
other instances but wasn't sure how he'd take it if she was that blunt. Things
seemed to be going well at the moment and she didn't want to jinx it.

Brad shook his head.
“No, I know that I treated you badly too. I never should have tried to control
you.” The looks in his eyes turned to one of near desperation. “I was just so
scared of losing you that I held on to you too tight.”

“Tight? Brad, you
were suffocating me. Controlling my every move.” Jennifer couldn't believe
she'd actually said it to him. She cringed as she waited for the explosion at
her accusation.

“I know. I was
wrong, and I'm sorry.” Brad couldn't have shocked her more if he'd said that
he'd wanted to move to Guam or become a priest. “I wanted to know where you
were because I was worried about you disappearing on me. I didn't want you to
spend time with other men because I thought you'd see how much better those
guys were than me and leave me. I knew your family didn't approve of me, so I
didn't want you to be around them in case they talked you out of loving me.”

If he really had
loved her the way he said he did, Jennifer thought, those reasons could very
well be valid. Had she been wrong all this time? Maybe it wasn't that Brad had
really changed, but that he was now able to face that the way he'd handled
things hadn't been the best.

“Brad, you really
hurt me back then,” Jennifer's voice was hesitant. She still wasn't positive
that she could trust him not to blow up, but she wanted it to be real so badly
that she was willing to take that risk. “I thought that it was intentional.
That you liked being mean to me and controlling me.”

“No,” Brad leaned
closer, his expression earnest. “I only ever wanted you to love me.”

Jennifer swallowed
hard around the lump forming in her throat. Tears pricked at her eyelids. “I
did love you, Brad. So much.”

He reached for her
again and hesitated. This time, instead of drawing back, he put his arm around
her shoulders and drew her to him. “Do you think there's even the slightest
possibility that you could love me again?”

“I don't know,”
Jennifer admitted. She turned her face into his shoulder and breathed deeply.
He still smelled the same. Spicy body wash and deodorant mixed with the fresh
linen scented detergent he used on his clothes and, under that, the scent that
was uniquely his. “So much has happened since we broke up.”

“Have you found
someone else?”

The pain in that
question made the tears spill over. She'd never considered how this thing with
Philip would affect Brad, even when she was debating between the two men. Now,
she wondered if Philip would feel the same way if he knew she was in Brad's
arms. Would he be hurt if she went back to Brad or would he just move on with J
or some other girl?

“Jenny?”

Jennifer pulled
back and wiped her hands over her cheeks. “I'm sorry. It's just been a long
couple of days. I'm stressed and tired.”

“I understand.” To
Jennifer's surprise, Brad didn't push his question. “You try to relax and get
some rest.” He stood. “Just remember that I'm here when you need me. No matter
what.” He leaned down and pressed his lips against Jennifer's forehead.
“Whatever you need, I'll be.” He turned away from her. “I'll let myself out.”

Jennifer stayed
where she was, still processing everything that had just happened. If she'd
thought she'd been confused before, it was nothing compared to the way she felt
now. Everything she thought she'd known about the two men in her life had just
been turned upside-down and she didn't know what to do about it.

In the
few days leading up to the gala, nobody in the office talked about anything
else and I found at least half my mind successfully distracted from my own
problems. The atmosphere was infectious, and even Gina didn’t bat an eyelid
when she caught Helen looking at fancy dresses online. Helen told me later at
lunch that Gina had actually told her to get the blue instead of the green.
Even sleepy Michael seemed to be anticipating the event. He told anyone who
would listen that he had bought a new bow tie which matched the one his
partner, Luke, would be wearing. It was amazing that anyone did any work at
all.

Through
it all, I said very little, replying over and over to questions about whether
or not I had a date with an uninformative shrug. Whenever anyone asked me if I
had a dress picked out, or which shade of lipstick I thought would go best with
pale green, I gave a non-committal “I’m not sure.” I was privately glad that my
involvement with Mathis had been under the radar; I couldn’t face the relentless
gossip which might have spread about me if it had come out that anything had
gone on between us.

***

On
Saturday morning, I decided to kill the hours until the gala by working on my
novel, but after a few hundred words, I realized that I hadn’t even thought
about what I was going to wear. I had been so distracted by Michael’s matching
bow tie and Helen’s existential crisis between eggshell and cerulean that I
hadn’t given a second thought to my own outfit!

I
immediately shut down my laptop, ran over to my closet, and flung the door
open. Almost half the space was taken up with work clothes: light shirts for
the summer, sweaters for the winter, and a few dresses mingled with countless
pairs of slightly shabby pants. It wasn’t an inspiring sight.

As I pushed
farther back, I saw the monstrosity of a bridesmaid’s dress which I had worn a
few years ago to a friend’s wedding. It was a sickly yellow color with a huge
fluffy skirt and little green bows along the hem. Wondering whether the reason
I had not thrown it out was because I had been too embarrassed to leave it in
the trash, I cast my eyes over an inappropriately short black dress I had worn
on a disastrous date, a few casual summer dresses, and a whole lot of lint.

There
was nothing there! In desperation, I got out my cell and dialed Sharon’s
number. I knew that she of all people would be able to help me out. After all,
it was her job to sort out a suitable outfit for a panicking woman before a big
event.

Before
she could get a word in, I blurted out my problem.

“Sharon!
I need to find a cute evening dress to wear, tonight, and all I can find in my
closet is Goodwill castoffs.”

“Don’t
panic,” she said, her voice full of soothing authority. “Get over here right
now and I’ll pick you something from my closet. Trust me, I’m a wedding
planner. If I can’t find you a suitable dress, I’ll have to give up my career!”

Half an
hour later, I was in Sharon’s bedroom, which she had miraculously transformed
into a dressing room, a vast array of brightly-colored dresses strewn across
her bed and bursting out of her walk-in closet.

“A lot
of the brides buy dresses for me to wear at their weddings,” she explained. “Call
it a perk of the job. Basically, I could make a fortune on eBay if I could bear
to part with any of them. Whatever you do, don’t let Ryan know. He thinks this
closet is where I keep the cleaning supplies.”

“Wow,”
I said. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Well,
it depends what look you’re going for. Are you going for glamorous yet
understated, or do you want men’s eyes to bulge when they look at you, or do
you want to fade into the background?”

“Uh …
fade into the background, I guess,” I said.

“Wrong
answer,” laughed Sharon. “You’re gorgeous, and we are going to show it. With
those beautiful green eyes of yours, I think a shade of russet would work well.
Or we could go with a lilac, I suppose. Even the right shade of green would
look stunning …”

Instantly,
she was on her feet and sifting through her collection, occasionally plucking
out a dress and tossing it over her shoulder.

An hour
later, after I had tried on what seemed like a hundred dresses, Sharon was
still frowning.

“None
of them are quite right,” she said. “You need something a little bit elegant
and classy, but which still screams sex.”

“I
don’t think I want to scream sex,” I said nervously.

“Nonsense,”
Sharon dismissed the idea as impossible. Then, her eyes took on a glazed
quality and she stared off into space, a smile twitching on her lips.

“Sharon?”
I asked anxiously.

“I have
the perfect dress,” she said. “Wait a second.”

She
dived head first into her closet until nothing was visible apart from one red
pump, and came out a minute later, panting, with one of the most beautiful
dresses I’d ever laid eyes on. It was a creamy, off-white color, cut square at
the front with a deep V at the back. Although it reached the floor, it had a
slit up to one knee. It was made of a sleek, supple material which seemed to
reflect the light like an opal. It wasn’t strapless, as I had imagined, but instead
had very short, slightly puffed sleeves. It was elegant, almost classical, and
absolutely stunning.

“I
bought this from a vintage store ages ago,” Sharon explained, “but it’s not
really my style, so I’ve never worn it. With your dark hair and creamy skin,
though, it’ll be perfect.”

“Thank
you! Thank you!” I quickly held the dress up to my body in my excitement, and I
felt like one of the wood fairies Mathis and I had invented. It looked almost
ethereal. I had never thought of myself as beautiful before, but I had to admit
that the dress brought out my best features.

I
turned to Sharon, and the look on her face said it all.

Once
Sharon had fixed my hair in a loose, glossy knot and applied my makeup with an
expert touch, I said goodbye and took a taxi to my office, where I would be
meeting my coworkers.

***

The
women gushed over my dress, while I returned the favor, complimenting Helen’s
eventual choice of a foamy turquoise gown and Barbara’s attention-grabbing
scarlet number. Michael and his partner, Luke, both looked very dapper in their
bow ties and tuxedos, and Colin had managed to tuck his shirt in for once and
looked remarkably handsome. As we approached the gala, everyone wore
expressions of complete awe as we caught sight of the gorgeous surroundings.

“Look
at the lights,” squealed Helen. “It’s amazing!”

“Look
at the fountains,” marveled Michael’s partner Luke. “I wonder if they’d throw
us out if we tried to swim in them.” He laughed and smiled at Michael.

“Almost
certainly,” Gina said with a slight frown at Michael, who looked nervously at
his partner, as if wishing he hadn’t made it so obvious that they were together
with their matching bow ties.

“Oh
look,” Barbara gasped, “Isn’t that George Clooney over there?”

“Don’t
be silly,” her husband chided her, lifting his head to get a better look, and
then his eyes widened. “Holy crap! It is! Let’s try to get a picture later!”

As we
entered the fancy lobby of the hotel – snagging champagne flutes from a passing
waiter – Helen, her husband Lee, and I branched off from the group to get a
vantage point from the balcony, surveying the crowded room.

“There’s
Mr. Sherman,” Helen pointed out, looking at our client, who was talking to a
tall, dark-haired woman in a lime green dress. She was at most half his age,
and was hanging on his every word, laughing and tossing her hair at regular 30
second intervals.

“Is
that his wife?” I asked doubtfully.

“Not
unless she suddenly made some drastic surgical adjustments,” Helen scoffed. “I
hear he has at least three mistresses – maybe that’s one of them.”

“Could
be,” I said.

“What
about that one?” Lee seemed to be having just as much fun as his wife. “That
dress looks like our daughter’s last birthday cake.”

“Ooh,
it does,” Helen giggled. “I wonder how much it cost?”

“She’s
the actress from that romantic comedy in the theatres at the moment,” I pointed
out, “so it probably cost a lot.”

“Oh,
wow, she is!” Helen leaned forward for a closer look.

After
about twenty minutes and two glasses of champagne, I was beginning to relax
slightly and even enjoy myself. Gossiping about people’s dresses and who was
dating who was a fun relief from worrying about my personal life and dwelling
on something which was almost certainly over, and I had made up my mind to
throw myself into the festivities of the evening.

Just as
I was talking to a slightly egotistical businessman who was boasting about how
many millions his last deal was worth, our client stepped up to the microphone
on the elevated platform in the center of the room. Grateful to get away from
my current conversation, I turned my full attention to the podium.

“I’d
just like to welcome everyone who is here tonight; I hope everyone has a
wonderful evening,” he said, raising his champagne flute. Everyone clapped
politely. “I’d like to introduce to you my special guest for this evening.”

He
turned to the side, and I almost gasped as I saw who he was looking at – Mathis
had just walked onto the stage clad in a black tuxedo, his light brown hair
perfectly in place and a wide, charming smile on his lips. It hadn’t even
crossed my mind that he might be here tonight.