Hunter appeared at the top of the stairs, dressed in a heavy jacket, scarf, and carrying a box of Kleenex. His nose was red, his eyes bleary, the ugly scars on his face livid. He sneezed.
As Hunter descended the stairs, his girlfriend, Gretchen, trailed close behind him, a worried look on her face. “Do you need more cold medicine, baby?”
She looked like she was the one who’d been sick. Her vivid red hair was pulled into a messy bun, and she wore a baggy sweater and yoga pants. If he’d have passed her on the street, Griffin would have questioned if she was homeless or not. He still couldn’t believe Hunter had fallen for her. She seemed so very . . . uncouth.
“I’m fine,” Hunter said, though he hardly sounded like himself. His voice was raspy and broken.
“Oh, clearly,” Gretchen said sarcastically. She tromped to the bottom of the stairs after him and began to unwind her scarf, tugging off her jacket. “Hi boys, sorry we’re late.”
Griffin groaned into his cards. This wasn’t the first time Hunter had brought his loudmouth girlfriend with him to one of their “supposedly” private meetings, and it annoyed Griffin each time. “Really, Hunter? You couldn’t come without her?”
Gretchen shot Griffin the finger as she reached for Hunter’s jacket, helping him take it off. “He’s sick as fuck, prick. I told him to stay in bed, but he wouldn’t, so I came with him. You can just suck it up.”
“Lovely,” Griffin muttered. “Just what the evening needed, a visiting harridan.”
“That’s my sister-in-law,” Reese murmured to him. “So can you shut your mouth before I hear about it when I get home?”
Griffin gave Reese an icy look. “Not you, too? Am I the only one who has a problem with the whole ‘secret society’ being secret?”
Jonathan shot him a sympathetic smile across the table, but Griffin noticed he didn’t speak up. Coward.
“Hey, I know,” Gretchen said, giving Griffin a wide-eyed innocent look as she settled Hunter into the only empty chair at the table. “Why don’t you take another swig of ‘Shut the Hell Up’ and let me care for my man?”
Dignity didn’t allow Griffin to answer. He settled for giving her his best cold aristocratic stare-down. It seemed to be wasted on Gretchen, as she was currently fussing over Hunter, and the scarred man was letting her. Disgraceful. When Gretchen was satisfied with the state of Hunter’s attire, she turned around and sat in his lap. “So, what are we playing?”
Griffin stared at her and waited for someone to correct her impertinence.
“Hold ’Em,” Cade volunteered, ever the suck up.
“Cool,” Gretchen said, and grabbed Hunter’s chips, wiggling on his lap. “I’ll help Hunter play.”
“What, are his hands sick, too?” Jonathan asked, a dry note of humor in his voice.
Gretchen wagged a playful finger at him, and Hunter only wrapped his arms around her waist, a pleased look on his ugly face as he wiped his nose with a Kleenex. He seemed to like Gretchen there.
Traitor.
Even Logan, the head of their society, didn’t seem displeased to see Gretchen at their table. Sure, she’d signed a non-disclosure agreement in which she’d promised not to divulge a single detail of their secret Brotherhood, but it was the principle of the thing, wasn’t it?
“We’ll skip the professional discussions this week,” Logan said, lighting a cigar.
Figured. He’d been looking forward to losing himself in some business talk. It seemed like everything was against him right now. He said nothing as the first cards were dealt, and chipped in his amount to match Cade’s bid.
“I’ll see your amount,” Gretchen said, pushing chips forward. “And raise you that gigantic stick up Griffin’s ass.”
Griffin threw down his cards. “Oh, come on. This is ridiculous.”
“Kids, kids,” Reese said. “Let’s settle down.”
“He started it,” Gretchen said sulkily. “It’s that snotty accent of his. Everything he says sounds ten times more jerkish.”
Griffin glared at the hateful woman. “If you don’t like it, feel free to leave. I don’t seem to recall anyone inviting you here in the first place.”
Hunter only tightened his grip around Gretchen’s waist and gave Griffin a small shake of his head, warning him not to pick a fight. Good God. A man fell in love and all of a sudden, he was letting his woman walk all over him. Griffin vowed that he’d never let that happen to himself.
Cade peered at Griff from over his cards. “You all right? You seem unusually moody tonight.”
Griffin rubbed at his face. “I’m having a hell of a time, thank you for asking.”
Logan grunted acknowledgment of this.
“What’s the problem?” Jonathan wanted to know. “Anything I can help with?”
“Not unless you have a spare assistant,” Griffin said. He put his cards down, unable to concentrate. “My assistant-slash-valet is ill and won’t be available to travel for at least another week, and I fly to Bellissime tomorrow night for the circus that will be cousin Alexandra’s wedding.”
Gretchen gasped. “Holy shit. Princess Alexandra of Bellissime is your cousin?” She fanned herself, looking excited. “That explains that douchey attitude! You’re royalty?”
He narrowed his eyes at her. He never tried to hold his title over anyone here in the States to make them feel inferior, but at this moment, he was sorely tempted. “I don’t see why it matters.”
“That wedding is a huge deal!” Gretchen exclaimed. “It’s kind of neat that you’re going.”
“Except that Griffin is probably almost as antisocial as Hunter there,” Jonathan acknowledged with a nod. He shot a glance at Griffin. “And it’s interfering with other projects.”
Damn. Griffin was going to be upset about missing that dig for weeks. He just knew it. He’d go check on things afterward, of course, but it wasn’t quite the same as getting that initial tour of the grounds and being there on site as things transpired.
“It doesn’t even matter if I wanted to go,” Griffin said. “Which I most emphatically do not wish to attend. But if I don’t have an assistant, I’ll be forced to rely on my mother’s staff.” His collar felt chokingly tight at the thought, and he tugged at it and his necktie. “So I need an assistant.”
All of the men groaned in sympathy.
“What? What is it?” Gretchen asked, curious.
“His mother is kind of . . .” Cade began, clearly trying to think of the best word.
“Unpleasant,” Hunter offered, finally speaking.
“That branch up Griffin’s ass? It’s an entire redwood for Her Royal Highness Sybilla-Louise,” said Jonathan.
Gretchen’s eyes widened. “Holy crap.”
“Thank you for that lovely reminder, gentlemen,” Griffin said in a clipped tone. “Ever so grateful. Really.” He swigged his cognac again. Manners be damned—he needed the burn of alcohol, and he needed it sooner rather than later.
“Well,” Gretchen said sweetly. “Hunter has an extra assistant at his office. I bet he would let you borrow her. He’s sick right now anyhow, and he’s not going in.”
Hunter broke off into a coughing fit. He raised a hand, and Gretchen pulled it against her waist, that saccharine smile never leaving her face.
Griffin gave her a narrow-eyed look. Why was she trying to be helpful all of a sudden? After the hissing they’d done to each other across the table? “He does?”
Gretchen nodded, holding on to Hunter’s arms while he coughed and hacked. The man did sound brutally sick. “She’s very sweet. Hardworking. I’m sure she’d travel on short notice if offered overtime.”
“I’m going to need someone who can run a very busy schedule for me while I’m in Bellissime. There are many high-profile functions I must attend.”