I stayed silent.
“Bran might not mind if your secrets came to life but your future employers might. If there were any of them left. A few words placed in the wrong ear and I can guarantee your current drought when it comes to customers will turn into a parched desert, putting the Sinai to shame.” Michael grinned, a self-satisfied smirk. “But it’s your call, of course.” His hand went inside the jacket again and retrieved a business card and pen. “Please visit him tomorrow at my offices. It’s nothing much, just a negotiation we’d like to keep under wraps.” He scribbled a name on the back in flowing, perfect script.
“And off the record.” I took the business card.
“I can pay you if you want.” Michael ground the cigarette remains into the sidewalk. “Would it make things easier?”
“No,” I replied. “It’d make it worse.” I turned and walked back into the restaurant.
Bran watched me as I sat down beside him, his forehead furrowed. His left hand snaked over to rest on my bare knee.
“You okay?” he whispered.
Michael slid in beside Bernadette, nattering about the crowded streets outside and how the government hated smokers.
“I’m fine.” I knew the pasted-on smile wouldn’t fool him. “Later.”
The rest of the evening went by in a blur of coffee, tea and small talk. We went over my school days, Bran’s school days, Bernadette and Michael’s school days—the simplicity of it all making me want to tear my hair out, one long blond strand at a time.
“Do you get a lot of murder cases?” Bernadette mused, her fork whittling away on a piece of cheesecake the size of a thimble. “Like the private investigators on television?”
“Not in Toronto.” I smiled. “I let the cops handle that. Too much paperwork.”
Bran squeezed my knee under the table. We’d met over one murder case and bonded through another.
“That woman we met at your house. Jess.” Michael drew a line in the white frosting on his untouched carrot cake. “Was she in some sort of accident? Looks like she got mauled by a lion and lost her eye. Nasty scar.” He clucked his tongue. “Not a whole lot of men like getting it from a crazed cyclops.”
Bran leaped in before I could speak. “Dad, enough. You’ve been grilling Rebecca all night. Let it go.” He folded his cloth napkin in a neat square and placed it next to the remains of his chocolate cream pie. “I’m not a kid anymore. I don’t appreciate you having a background check done on her. I thought this was going to be a nice dinner to get to know each other, not a fucking interrogation.”
Michael moved to speak but was silenced by Bernadette’s hand on his forearm.
“Brandon,” she started, “we understand you find it a violation of privacy.” She gestured at me with one hand. “For both of you. But you have to see our point of view.” The blond wave of hair bobbled with each word. “Your father has worked hard over the years to secure a sound financial future for all of us. Even with the stock market bouncing around he’s kept his customers happy and kept us safe. We’re not out to criticize you or your choices.”
I held back a snarky response. This wasn’t the time or place to bring up our previous conversation.
“If we were, we’d have raised hell when you got stupid after that story.” Michael grunted.
Bran chewed on his lower lip. I knew she was referring to Bran’s article, the one he’d written after running with the street kids for months, the one that made his journalistic reputation.
And broke his heart. When the news became more about him and his adventures than about the needy kids scrambling for protection from their own demons he walked away from the journalism world and dived into writing filler for tabloids.
“That’s not the point.” Bran grated the words out between clenched teeth.
I put my hand atop his. “It’s okay.” I looked at Michael. “We’re good.” The smile was forced and hurt but I should have seen this coming. For all the differences between Felis and humans some things never changed—the demands of family.
I stood up. “We should be going. I’ve got an early day tomorrow.” The almost imperceptible nod from Michael made my skin crawl. “Thank you for dinner. I’m sure we’ll talk again.”
Bernadette chirped, Michael shook hands, awkward hugs were exchanged and we were out on the street a few minutes later.
The line of waiting diners had diminished by half but still stretched down the block. We pushed by them as quickly as possible, moving on to clear ground a few minutes later.
Bran let out a loud sigh and stuffed his hands in his pockets. His shoulders slumped as he shuffled forward. There were no taxis in sight—they were busy couriering the evening crowd home.
“Let’s walk for a bit. I could use the exercise.” I tugged at his sleeve and we walked along the near-empty street, the majority of theater-goers sequestered in pubs and cafes or struggling to get home via the subway.
“I’m sorry. I just get so...” His fingers curled up into fists. “They make me feel like such a little kid begging for permission to go play outside. It doesn’t matter how old I am—it all comes back round to what looks best for the family, what looks good to the public.” He looked up at the night sky. A few stars fought for control over the illuminated skyline. “I know my mother gave you the ‘get out of Dodge’ speech about how you weren’t suitable for me and the Hanover fortune.”
I blinked, holding back my shock. “How did you know?”
“She’s been doing that since I was old enough to date.” Bran sighed. “Let’s just say you aren’t the first to get the lecture.”
I shrugged. “I’ll survive. I think I scared her a bit, though.”
He chuckled. “That’s what she needs, a reality check. What did my father want to talk to you about?”
“Just more family stuff.” The taste of bitter chocolate rushed back in a nasty burp. “The usual speech about not taking advantage of you. Guess he wanted to make sure all the bases were covered in case your mother left anything out.”
I didn’t say anything about the devil’s deal I’d cut. Despite my previous brave speech to his dad I didn’t want Bran to know anything about this side job. I’d go see this fellow and take care of his dirty little secret and be done with it.
Telling Bran would only make him more pissed off at his family and I didn’t want to be the cause of even more friction. It’d be a few hours out of our lives and it’d be over and done with. Hanover would have his buddy taken care of and there’d be no further investigation into my life.
Win-win. It wasn’t the best scenario but it sure beat the alternative.
“Nothing special,” he repeated, taking my hand. I felt the quiver in his fingers, the curiosity growing.
“He asked if you still had those pajamas with the little teddy bears on them.”
Bran grinned. “If I recall correctly Jazz pulled those out of the drawer and made a bed with them last time we left her in the condo. What did you tell him?”
“I told him I had no idea—you sleep naked. In fact you like walking around the house naked as much as possible. And we were considering taking a vacation at a BDSM resort because you like being tied up and spanked.”
“You did not.”
“You’ll never know.” I rolled my shoulders back and increased my stride, dragging him along. “They were quite nice. For parents.”
Bran let out a hum of agreement. “I’m sorry I won’t get to meet yours.” He squeezed my hand. “I’d like to hope they’d approve of me.”
I chuckled. “Probably not. You are a reporter, after all.”