His to Keep (Beauty and the Brit) (35 page)

“The trickle-down effect?”

“Indeed.”

“Sorry my failed marriage is keeping you from getting laid.” Brynn loved Trevor, but every once in a while he was a pain in the ass. Today was shaping up to be one of those times.

“Pity, that.” His quick glance took in her face, her uncombed hair. “If it’s any consolation, I believe he loves you.”

“Iain?”

“No, the postman. Of course Iain.”

“What makes you say that?”

“He never actually came to me for an investment. Didn’t contact me at all. He had his chance to, that night after the family dinner. But instead, when he saw you were blind drunk, he took you home. The way he cared for you, touched you—well, I knew then how he felt.”

A tiny spark of hope flickered to life, but Brynn squashed it. “Even if you’re right, it doesn’t matter. It’s over.”

“Excellent.” Trevor patted the top of her head as if she were still a child. “You can do miles better. He’s a working-class upstart who’s so far beneath you, his interest is an insult. That he was presumptuous enough to touch you, let alone marry you—well, you’ll do better the next time, I’m sure.”

With her upper lip curled into a sneer and hands fisted at her sides, Brynn leaped to her feet. “That’s a really horrible thing to say. Even for you. Iain didn’t start out with all of your advantages. His home life was brutal. You have no idea. He’s worked hard to get to where he is, and I’m not going to sit here and listen to you put him down. Just because he wasn’t born with a silver spoon in his mouth doesn’t make him any less of a person. You’re a classist snob, Trevor Blake. And might I remind you, Allie’s from a working-class family?
My
working-class family.” Brynn thumped her chest. “So what does that make you?”

“Terribly fortunate.” Trevor stood and peered down at her. “Sounds like you still care for the bloke after all.”

Trevor had been trying to provoke her, and Brynn had taken the bait. She rolled her eyes and unclenched her hands. “Congratulations, you got me to admit it. I can’t just stop loving him overnight. It doesn’t work that way.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

* * *

Iain spent the morning in a very morose and unproductive way, by ambling through the building near Fremont Street. When he’d taken Brynn there, Iain had been so full of pride, so certain of his future success. But as he ripped a board from the window and stared out at the property across the street, he was ready to let it go. Let it all go. None of it mattered. Not without her.

Brynn softened his razor-sharp edges. She centered him, gave him peace and comfort. If she weren’t here, what was the bloody point of it all? He tried to show her that he loved her by helping Tasha, by giving to Allie’s and Monica’s charities, buying Cass’s business. It made no difference. She still hadn’t contacted him. Brynn was through.

Iain usually looked at a problem and came up with six different solutions simultaneously. But now he was rudderless. That old feeling of desperation reared its head.

Iain replaced the board and left the building. He wouldn’t come here again. His ambitions for this place had cost him everything.

On his way back to the office, he stopped by Marc’s house. Though he didn’t smell of alcohol, Marc’s gaunt frame was worrisome. His hair was longer than he normally kept it, and he hadn’t shaved in days, possibly weeks. But at least he was sober.

“You again, eh?” Marc turned and left Iain on the doorstep.

Not the friendliest welcome, but Iain would take it. He trailed Marc to the living room.

“If you’re going to harass me about coming to work—” He flopped onto the sofa.

“I’m not,” Iain said. “I just popped ’round to check on you.”

“Oh. Well, as you see, I’m fine. Go away, your conscience is clear.”

“Hardly. Look, if you want out of the business, we’ll sell everything and divide it. If you’d rather be a silent partner, that’s fine too. Whatever you want, mate. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Marc propped his bare foot on the coffee table. “Don’t just stand there like a twat. You’re giving me a crick in me neck.”

Iain unbuttoned his jacket and sat in the chair. He gazed around the enormous room and up at the cathedral ceilings. “This house is far too big for one person. What are you going to do now, sell?”

“I don’t know. I may just sit here, watching telly, until I keel over. What are you sorry for specifically?”

Iain rubbed his forehead and sighed. “Everything. That you lost her. That I didn’t treat you as an equal partner. That I’m a know-it-all prat.”

“Yeah. You are a prat. But I let you take charge, didn’t I? Easier that way. Less worry for me. I put it all on your shoulders.”

“I thought I had it all figured out. Turns out, I’m a bloody fool.”

“We both are,” Marc said.

“Do you still want to sell off the downtown properties?”

Marc studied him. “We’ll probably take a loss, what with the taxes we’ve paid in the last couple years and the market being what it is.”

“I know. But I don’t care anymore, do I? I’ve lost Brynn. She won’t talk to me. Not a word.”

“Look at us, making a total bollocks of it all. Mel went to stay at her mum’s and told me to respect her choices. Says she needs ‘head space.’ What the hell does that even mean? And how long do I give her?”

“Exactly. How long is too long?” Iain stood. “And I’m tired of waiting for her to call. She’s still me wife. I’ll give her anything she wants, except a divorce. But she has to talk to me at some point, yeah?”

Marc lowered his foot. “Spot on. And I should go get Melanie. Bring her home. I love her, right? She belongs here with me. If I didn’t want to be rushed into marriage, we should talk it out. Like two rational adults.”

“Cheers. This is what I’ve said to Brynn.” Iain nodded and began pacing the room. “Listen to the pair of us, moaning like old women. When did we lose our balls, mate? You should bring Mel back to Vegas.”

Marc stood. “I’ve been whinging for weeks. Like a schoolgirl. What the bloody hell?”

They looked at each other and grinned. Iain walked forward and lightly smacked Marc on the side of the head. “Bring her home, yeah?”

“You too. Even if it takes the rest of your life, you’ll get her back.”

“The rest of me life?” he echoed. Still, what kind of life did he have without Brynn? Not much of one. Work. Sleep. Snarling at people. That was hardly an existence.

“Come on, now. You’re Iain Chapman. She won’t be able to resist your charms for long. I’m going to fly to Arkansas and get Mel. I’ll be back by next week, I guarantee it.”

When Iain left the house, he felt lighter, but once he glanced at his phone and saw that Brynn hadn’t called, stark reality set in once more. He looked at the dice in his hand and shoved them in his pocket. Despite all his big talk in front of Marc, for the first time since he was a lad, Iain didn’t know how to go about achieving his goal.
Desperate.
He couldn’t force Brynnie into taking him back. He couldn’t seduce her or use flowery language. So how could he convince her to give him another chance?

Iain called her again and left a message. Was she even listening to them? Maybe she was ignoring him altogether. Bloody hell.

Back at the office, Iain tried to put on a friendly face for the team. He nodded at a few people, said hello. As he passed the conference room, he noticed Amelia’s lad, Tyler, sitting at the table. Iain poked his head in the doorway. “Why aren’t you in school?”

Tyler glanced up from his tablet. “Teacher’s conference. Mom said you wouldn’t mind if I’m here.”

“I don’t mind.” He started to walk away.

“Hey, Iain.”

He turned and walked back. “Yeah?”

“I did that thing you said. I found my enemy’s weakness.”

“How’d it go?”

“Adam, the kid who makes fun of me the most, he has this blond hair that he’s always messing with. He uses a lot of gel and stuff. Anyway, he was making fun of me at lunch and I called him Goldilocks. Everyone laughed.”

“So it worked then.” Always did. Everyone had a fatal flaw.
And yours is overconfidence. Too much damned pride.

“Yeah, but I feel bad. He got his hair buzzed last week, but everyone’s calling him Goldie.”

Iain walked into the room. “Well, maybe it’s good that you feel bad. Means you’re an honest person, yeah? That you care about other people.” That’s what Brynn had been trying to tell him, but Iain had been too bullheaded to listen. If he could go back, he’d do things differently. Iain rapped his knuckles on the table. “Now, stop playing that video game and do some studying, yeah? Your mum’s worried about your maths.”

He walked to his office suite, stopping in front of Amelia’s desk. “Marc is going to Arkansas to get Mel.”

“I’ll book him a flight. Your brother-in-law is waiting in your office. He’s been here for an hour.”

Iain’s brows slammed together. “Trevor?”

“Yep.”

“You just let him into my office, did you?”

“What was I supposed to do, tackle him?” She looked down and started tapping on her keyboard.

Iain braced himself, adjusted his tie, and strode into the room. “Trevor.”

The toff was sitting on the couch looking quite at home as he jabbed at his phone screen. “About time.”

“Why are you here? Is Brynn all right?” Did she send him?

“Quite well. Saw her a couple of hours ago.”

“Does she know you’re here?”

“Doubtful.” Maddening, he was.

“So what’s this about, then?” With his hands in his pockets, he lowered his head. Trevor wanted something. Iain could feel it in his bones.

“I’m here to make you an offer.”

“Are you now?” Iain didn’t trust any offer coming from Trevor Blake. The man hated him. And he had every right. Iain silently waited him out.

Trevor stood and glanced down at his phone one last time. “I’ll invest in your downtown properties. All of them.” He sauntered to the middle of the room. “Give you seventy-five percent of the money up front.”

“Will you now? That’s very generous.”

“I want something in return.” When Trevor smiled, he flashed his teeth. Like a shark.

“Course you do,” Iain said. “Can’t wait to hear this caveat of yours.”

“In return for my investment, you’ll divorce Brynn and agree to never contact her again.”

Iain laughed, but it wasn’t funny. The nerve of this knob, waltzing into Iain’s office and laying down impossible rules. Never see Brynn again? Not an option. “Fuck off.”

Trevor raised one brow and appraised him with those chilly, gray eyes. “I thought this was what you wanted. It’s a sound plan, converting those old buildings into livable space. Fremont is expanding, and it’s just a matter of time before someone else pounces on the idea. Brynn’s too good for you. Let her get on with her life and find a man who’s worthy of her.”

Iain very carefully removed his hands from his pockets. His body hummed with anger. With his jaw clamped tight, Iain took three steps forward until only an inch separated him from Trevor. “Oh, I know I’m not good enough for her. Not even close. But I love that woman, and I’m not giving her up. Now if you don’t get out of here, I’ll—”

Trevor waved one hand. “Do calm down. I left her in my garden. Defending you. If you hurry, she might still be there.”

“Wha’?”

“Quite.”

Iain stood frozen to the spot. Had that been a test of some sort?

“Are you planning on standing here all day, or are you going to go get her?” Trevor asked.

What would he say to her? Perhaps he should start by being honest. Then get on his hands and knees and beg her to come home. Tipping his head to Trevor, Iain spun and nearly ran out of his office.

“Go get her, tiger,” Amelia called after him.

* * *

Brynn dangled her feet in the cool water, and even over the splash of the waterfall, she could hear Monica and Allie arguing, their voices raised. Life as usual.

“I can hear you fighting,” she called. “Don’t make me come over there.” Truth was, Brynn was tired of playing the peacemaker. It didn’t do any good. Al and Mon snapped and growled at each other and probably would for the next sixty-five years.

“I do love those blue toes.”

Iain.

Brynn snatched her feet out of the pool and stood, but in her haste, she slipped against the slick tile. Iain reached out and grabbed her elbow to keep her from tipping into the water. She didn’t pull away immediately. And he didn’t release her arm right away. His touch sent shivers across her sun-warmed skin. She’d missed his voice.
That accent.

“What are you doing here?” She finally extracted herself from his loose grip, her gaze eating him up, searching for any changes. It had only been a week and a half, but she noticed a few. Dark half circles shadowed his eyes, and his chin bore a small cut. A shaving accident, most likely. His hair was a little too long. He got it trimmed every three weeks, whether he needed it or not, but he must have missed an appointment. As he squinted against the sun, the lines fanning his eyes seemed longer, a little deeper. He wore a suit, of course—ivory linen. Brynn stifled a sob. He looked like her Iain, the man she’d fallen in love with, but that man didn’t exist. Not really.