Page 7 of Bad Boy Husband
JAMESON
T he knock on my office door was not so much a courtesy as a warning. Callum waltzed in like he owned the place before so much as a beat had passed between the knock and his appearance. He grinned. “Good morning, lover boy. How’d it go with your future wife?”
He collapsed into the chair across from my desk. His suit jacket was unbuttoned, his tie missing, and his hair already rumpled. I glanced at my watch. Barely ten a.m, but at least he’s getting better.
During his first year at the office, he’d looked like he’d gone a few rounds with a wild cat by eight thirty. There was a reason even Mom referred to him as her wild card. Callum Westwood was and always had been chaos wrapped in a six-thousand-dollar suit.
“Don’t start,” I said, moving my gaze back to the spreadsheet open on my computer.
In the last hour, I hadn’t absorbed a single thing and that probably wasn’t about to change, but I really wasn’t in the mood for him right now.
“The only thing I’m going to say about it is not to start getting ready to welcome another sister into the family.
You’ll have to stick it out with Laney for now. ”
He chuckled. “Mom’s already picking out the floral arrangements for your wedding, bro.
Since Sterling deprived her of the opportunity, she’s really buckling down.
Roses and stuff. Some real classic shit.
It’s going to be beautiful. Also, I love Laney.
I have since the first time I laid eyes on her. ”
“Don’t let Sterling hear you say that,” I warned jokingly. “He might be nicer these days, but he’ll carve your balls out and hang them around her neck to scare off other men.”
“It’s not like that. She’s just good for him, is all.
” He groaned though, his legs instinctively closing a little from his sprawled-out position.
“The first time I saw him look at her, I knew she was the one for him. Honestly, it was first time he actually looked human to me, but stop deflecting. How was the date?”
I leaned back. “It wasn’t a date. It was an interview and I only went to get Dad off my back. It seems to have worked for now.”
“It won’t last long.” Callum let out a harsh breath. “I still can’t believe we’re doing this, the whole let’s marry our sons off to the highest-bidding legacy family routine. It’s like we’re living in a period drama. All we need are corsets and powdered wigs.”
“It’s always been like this,” I said. “We’re just old enough now to be the next pawns on the board. Unless we change it when our own kids come of age, this is probably the way it’s always going to be.”
His eyebrows drew together and I knew he was about to imitate our father. “ Intense generational wealth must be protected at all costs. Here’s a random woman. You must buy her a ring and come inside her until you have fathered another precious Westwood .”
I snorted. “That, yeah. We’re doing it, though. Trust me, I’ve tried everything to get out of it, but he’s not biting.”
He grinned. “Speak for yourself, dear brother of mine. I’m planning on being the fun uncle forever. Hell, there are probably already a few Callum juniors out there. College was a pretty fun time for me.”
“How charming.” I arched an eyebrow at him, a smirk tugging at one corner of my lips. “You do know you’re next, right? Dad’s just working his way down the list. You might think you can get out of it, but again, whatever you’re thinking of doing, I’ve already tried it and it didn’t work.”
His grin faltered, but only for a heartbeat before he smoothed it back into place. “Nah. I’ll dodge it. I always do. It’s an art form.”
“Don’t you have a job?” I asked dryly. “You know, something to get back to instead of spewing your fantastical daydreams of freedom all over me?”
“I do. It’s called making sure the brand looks sexy to bored billionaires. As your younger brother though, occasionally annoying the shit out of you is also part of my job.”
“You’re doing stellar work, then. On the annoying me part. Not the marketing part.”
He saluted me lazily and pushed to his feet. “Always, and the marketing part is under control. Our brand is already sexy as hell.”
He winked and let the door slam shut behind him.
Our brand wasn’t sexy. At least, not to me.
I worked as an acquisitions executive, but on the liquidation side of things.
What that meant was that Sterling and his team, guys like Nathan, they brought in companies that were bleeding profusely.
I was the dude who chopped them into pieces and sold whatever parts had value to the highest bidder.
I turned back to my screen, but the numbers blurred together until they were meaningless columns of black and white. My little ticks and my need for order usually made me exceptionally good at my job, but today, my thoughts stubbornly kept ending up on Sadie.
Every time I blinked, I saw her standing there in the rain, a small pizza box clutched to her chest while she glared at me like she was daring me to pity her.
I kept thinking back to her admission that she had only three hundred bucks to her name.
I remembered the small, reluctant but real smile she’d flashed me before she’d slammed her building’s door behind her.
Drumming my fingers against the top of my immaculately polished mahogany desk, each tap was synced to my pulse as it sped up.
My plan was supposed to have been simple.
After I’d realized that my dad wasn’t going to give up, I’d decided to play the part, keep Harlan satisfied, and move the proverbial chess pieces around the board until the heat was off.
I’d figured he had to give up on me eventually or that maybe there was a way to game the system. But my mind kept coming back to her anyway, just like it had from the very night he’d first issued that damn ultimatum.
My phone lit up with Trent’s name just as I finally forced myself to refocus on the quarterly projections of a large company Sterling had just acquired. I picked up, wondering if Trent’s timing was some kind of sign that I should just back off his darn sister already.
“Westwood,” he said after I’d answered, his voice warm and easy like no time had passed since we’d shared bad bourbon and worse decisions in our senior year. “How’re you doing, bud?”
“Shepard,” I replied, trying to keep my own voice just as light and easy. “I’m good, man. Good. Just trying to keep the family legacy alive and all. Same shit, different day. What’s up with you?”
He laughed. “Yeah, it sounds like we’re just about living the same life, but that’s why I’m calling, actually. We all need a break, so a couple of the guys are getting together at my place this weekend. Just the boys. We’ll drink, relive old times, and maybe steal a tiger. Who knows? Are you in?”
I hesitated, my thumb drumming against the armrest, but before I could overthink it, my mouth was moving. “Yeah. That sounds good. I’ll be there. I thought you were still building your house, though?”
He laughed. “I am, but I do have another one where I’m staying until that one is done. It’s going to be good to see you, man. It’s been too damn long since we’ve cut loose together. You’re always so fucking buttoned up these days.”
“Somebody has to be,” I muttered. “And it sure as hell ain’t you.”
“God no, it’s not me. If my folks get their way, it will be, though. Hence the desperate need for a break.”
After we talked about the usual stuff, flight times, who else was coming, and him promising to stock the good bourbon, we hung up. The second the call ended, my screen stared back at me like it was beckoning me to do something.
Sadie. I can’t just keep sitting here.
It was pathetic really, how quickly I found the shelter’s name, followed almost immediately by her nonprofit’s website.
I was surprised by how bare bones it was, with not much more than cheap stock photos of animals in need, a half-broken calendar, and a short mission statement that was equal parts stubborn and earnest.
There were no upcoming events listed. No mention of galas or fancy fundraisers. The only working part of it was a donate here button tucked in the corner. My cursor hovered over it.
Fifty thousand dollars wouldn’t fix everything. Hell, in San Francisco today, it was barely enough for a decent party, but it would help buy food and medical care, and maybe help her keep the lights on for a while longer.
I typed in the number without blinking. When I was asked for my name, I clicked on the anonymous donation button instead. I wanted to give more, but if I did, she’d probably immediately know who it had come from.
For a moment, I watched the confirmation screen, my reflection staring back at me. Fifty grand? She’d never know for sure it was from me.
I leaned back, exhaling slowly. Letting old feelings get in the way of what I should be doing was stupid, but back in the day, I’d been selfish and reckless, too wrapped up in my own shit to hold on to something real.
Now, I was older, but maybe not any wiser.
Still doesn’t mean I have to stop caring about her.
Maybe that made me insane, but it was what it was. I’d tried to forget about her. For ten long ass years, she’d been out of my life—but never entirely out of my head.
You had her once though , that quiet, merciless part of my brain whispered, and you fumbled it, Westwood. You’ve helped her, but now it’s time to let her go. Maybe even for good this time.