“At least turn it off while we’re in Salt Lake City,” he sighs. “For my brother’s sake. The last thing we need is Dane digging around in our personal business and wondering why we can’t get along.”
“Turn what off?”
“Your contempt.”
“Already planned on it.” I go back to my book, flipping the page with the flick of a finger.
Chapter Eleven
BECKHAM
“We’re staying at Golden Oak,” I announce as Odessa climbs into the black Town Car my brother sent to pick us up from the airport. Bronson loads our luggage before shutting our door and climbing up front. A few minutes later, we’re speeding down the freeway toward his expansive country estate. I was always the city mouse. He was always meant to be a country mouse of the rich, reclusive variety.
“I thought we had a hotel reservation?”
“We did. Dane cancelled it. He wants to host us at his place.” I turn my phone on, my screen blowing up with missed emails and messages. Another topless selfie from my latest admirer mixes somewhere between all those. I delete it, but not before taking a peek. I’ve never claimed to have the self-control of a saint.
“That’s nice of him.”
“He likes to control everything.”
“And you don’t?” She chuckles.
“Absolutely not.”
“You’re obsessed with controlling what people think of you,” she says. “You want everyone to like you but only on your terms. That’s controlling.”
I glance up from my phone, two seconds from reminding her that she agreed to be kind during this trip. She wears a smile that lights up her emerald eyes, and it’s nearly identical to the one she wore the first night we met. For a second my heart hammers, and I forget we’re on completely different pages.
“Insulting someone while smiling,” I say, “isn’t the same as being cordial.”
Her chin tucks, dragging a curtain of shiny auburn hair over her shoulder as she sighs. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
I struggle to decide whether her apology is genuine, sarcastic, or a combination of the two. She looks at me from the corner of her eye before shifting her entire body my way.
Her slanted hand juts out a second later.
“Truce,” she says. “Let’s call a truce. At least for the next four days. I’ll stop making snide comments and you stop trying to get under my skin. We’ll play the roles of two cordial associates who’ve never slept together.”
I chuckle. Interacting with her while attempting to forget how fucking sexy she looked straddling my cock last week is going to be a challenge.
Her eyes close, and she takes a deep breath. It’s almost as if she has to psyche herself up to be nice. All it does is make me want that upper hand even more. She still fucking has it. She’s a goddamn dog refusing to let go of a stolen bone.
I meet her hand, my thumb grazing the delicate bone in her wrist. Her hands are softer than I remember.
The Town Car pulls into the private gate of Golden Oak. The driver presses the call button and within seconds the gate opens. We’re deposited under a majestic porte-cochere built with two stories of honed Brazilian granite Dane flew south of the equator to personally select. Every inch of this estate has Dane’s stamp of approval. Visiting here, as much as I loathe Utah and what it represents to me, always serves as a solemn reminder of what we’ve achieved in the last decade.
“Bienvenue!” Mathilde, my brother’s house manager greets us along with a tuxedoed butler. It always amuses me how my reclusive brother prefers to have a staff of eight at his beck and call while preferring to remain alone in his spare time. I can hardly spend an hour without some kind of social interaction yet I prefer to keep my penthouse employee-free.
The world couldn’t handle two of me anyway. Dane would venture to say the same.
“Hello, Mathilde,” I help Bronson unload luggage and wheel Odessa’s bag around the car. “Mathilde, this is Odessa. She’s consulting for TEH. I assume Dane told you she was staying?”
“Oui.” Mathilde smiles as if the auburn-haired beauty standing before her is enchanting. “The rooms are ready. We’re happy to have you.”
Odessa leans in and kiss-kisses Mathilde’s cheeks, taking her hands. “Very lovely to meet you, and thank you for accommodating us. I look forward to my stay at Golden Oak.”
We follow Mathilde up a winding, mahogany staircase, one I’ve traveled many times, until we reach a quiet hall opposite of my brother’s wing.
“Here you are, mademoiselle. Monsieur King, your room is next door. Press the call button if you need me.” Mathilde disappears into the dark hall.
“Sure beats the Hampton Inn.” The corner of Odessa’s mouth pulls up. I don’t think she’s being facetious, but it’s so fucking hard to tell with her.
“Unpack. Freshen up if you’d like,” I say. “I’ll come get you before we head downtown. Dane has meetings planned for us the rest of the afternoon.”
***
“What’s your brother like?” Odessa asks as we’re driven to headquarters an hour later. “In person, I mean.”
“Intense.” I straighten my tie.
“Just…intense?”
“Yes.”
“He can’t be that bad. He seemed nice on the phone.”
“He’ll be impressed with you.”
“I’m not worried about him liking me. Not everyone has to like me.” Her hand flies to mine as if the gesture could possibly soften her words. “And I don’t mean that in a snide way, Beckham. I’m just saying. I’m comfortable with who I am.”
“I’m pretty sure you made that clear when you were prancing around my bathroom naked, finger-brushing your teeth.”
She laughs, dragging her hand off mine and leaving a cool vacancy in its place. “I try not to care what people think of me. It’s none of my business.”
“And yet you work in PR, where you’re constantly manipulating the way people perceive things.”
“Don’t think you’re the first person ever to point that out.”
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, revealing a tiny diamond stud. I never noticed it before. I was too fixated on appreciating the way her hips sway when she walks or too busy looking for a hint of a smile on her pink lips to pay attention to the little things. There’s a freckle on the side of her cheek too: a small, lonely freckle in a sea of flawless, creamy skin. The tiniest hint of a bump in the profile of her nose catches my eye. She isn’t a boring, classic beauty, but she doesn’t need to be. She’s soft edges and dynamite, and that sets her apart from the polluted sea of cut-and-paste beauties back home.
Twenty minutes later, we’re strolling down the hallway toward the double mahogany doors that’ll deliver us to my brother. I burst in without so much as a knock, knowing full well how much he hates that.
“Dane,” I say.
He glances up, not startled in the least. He’s used to my tricks I suppose. His gaze lands on Odessa, and he straightens his posture before rising.
“Dane, pleasure to finally meet you.” Odessa goes to him, her hand extended and a radiant smile on her face.
She’s never smiled at me that way.
“Thanks for coming all the way to Utah,” Dane says. He speaks to her but gifts me a curious glance. If I know my brother he’s trying to decide if I’ve fucked her yet. “I hope the flight was at least somewhat enjoyable.”
“It was a lovely flight. Thank you,” she says, though she may as well be curtseying at this point. Apparently Dane’s royalty, and I am the lowly jester.
“Maureen has the conference room set up.” My brother points at the door. We follow.
“This must be new.” I point to an oil painting of Dane that looks more like a caricature than a portrait. “Commissioning art now, are we?”
“You won’t find it as a line item,” he states. “It was a gift.”
“Not good enough to hang next to your Renoir at Golden Oak?” I razz.