He’d signed over his rights to August without hesitation.
Not long after, Brody had approached her with an offer that had been irresistible. A fresh start. A new town. All expenses paid.
“I wanted her to move to Oregon,” I said. “I lobbied hard for it.”
“Not hard enough.” He gave me that smug, cunning grin. The one he always cast my way whenever he won.
“It’s hard to compete against a free house, a free car and a free life.”
“It’s not free. Clara has earned it.”
“Even Clara knows she hasn’t.”
“What do you mean?”
I rolled my eyes. “Why do you think she works so hard for you? Why do you think she would have come to this wedding tonight, sick as a dog?”
He blinked.
Yep. Clueless. “She’s trying to balance the scales. You helped her out of a bad situation with Devan. She wanted to get out of Vegas and leave him behind. Then she came to Arizona and you’d gone so . . . overboard.”
He lifted his chin. “I did what I would have done for any other employee.”
“Bullshit. Be honest with yourself, Brody. You wouldn’t have done that for any other employee. You treat her differently.”
“No, I don’t. I provide a life for Ron. He has a house on the property too.”
“Okay, then why does Ron call you sir but Clara doesn’t? I’m guessing she did once, a long time ago, and you told her not to. Because you treat her differently.”
His forehead furrowed and there was that jaw tic.
Point for Aria. That round was mine. “There’s a fine line between helping someone and making them feel like a charity.”
“I don’t pity Clara,” Brody snapped. “And she knows it.”
“Maybe. But the next time you tell her to jump, think about why she asks how high. Make sure you aren’t taking advantage of my sister’s work ethic and the fact that she’ll bend over backward for you, all because what you’ve given her, she has no chance to repay.”
He stared at me, shock etched on his handsome face. In his glass tower, he’d never stopped to ask himself why.
“We’re beginning our descent, sir,” the pilot said over the intercom, ending our conversation.
There was a wedding we had to attend.
There was a show for us to put on. Fitting that we were in Las Vegas.
As the plane dipped and headed for the runway, my nerves spiked. Adrenaline and anxiety grew. Rolling. Compounding. Like a snowball flying down a hill, getting bigger and bigger with each spin.
The plane’s wheels skidded on the tarmac. The crew in the plane hurried to prepare for our departure, the crew outside for our arrival, red carpet included. When we stepped outside and into the Vegas heat, I groaned. There was no way I’d survive this sober.
“I’m going to need champagne,” I told Brody as he led the way to a limo.
Lots and lots of champagne.
Chapter Four
Brody
“Good evening.” The man stationed at the entrance nodded as we strolled through the door, following the line of guests filing into the reception hall.
Aria clutched my arm as her ankle rolled for the third time. Heels were not her forte, as she’d informed me in the limo. She’d threatened to chuck the shoes and go barefoot if I didn’t have an arm available at all times to keep her steady.
“How long will this take?” Aria asked, casting a look over her shoulder to the exit.
“You know how these things drag.”
“No, actually, I don’t. Enlighten me.”
“This is the reception. It will start with cocktails and hors d’oeuvres. Toasts. Then a dinner, likely five or six courses, so it won’t be quick. Cake. Toasts. Dancing. More toasts.” For each event, Heather would likely have a different dress. “If we’re home before dawn, it will be a miracle.”
“What about the actual wedding?”
“The ceremony is over.” Thank God, I’d missed it. “Heather and Alastair had a private ceremony a few hours ago with close friends and family. Invite only. I didn’t get one.”
“You’re his brother.”
“Family doesn’t mean the same thing in mine as it does in yours.”
She hummed and gripped my arm tighter as we approached the ballroom doors. The pace slowed as people stood in the reception line. My stomach knotted tighter with each inch forward. Then there they were. The happy, cheating couple.
I’d avoided them since the day I’d caught them humping in Heather’s apartment. I’d gone over to pick up a watch I’d left there the night before. Surprise. Engagement over.
That day, I’d gone back to work and assigned Clara the task of changing the locks to my penthouse. I’d also decided it was time to move while applauding my foresight to never let Heather move in. She probably would have screwed Alastair in my own damn bed.
Heather’s billowing white gown caught my eye first. The cackle of her laugh stabbed my eardrums. Alastair looked so much like my father, there were times when it was difficult to look at his face. His dirty-blond hair was combed to precision, his nose straight and his dimpled chin raised.
He and Dad were alike in more than just looks. Alastair had inherited Dad’s greed and gluttony and gullibility. Thankfully, I’d taken after Grandfather. I’d inherited his common sense and work ethic. His brain. Though Grandmother liked to remind me that I was more like my mother than I wanted to admit. Foolish. Impulsive. Driven by emotion.
After all, Mom’s biggest weakness, my father, was the reason she was dead.
It was a blessing Mom wasn’t here. Toward the end of her life, she’d hated these spectacles as much as I did. But oddly enough, seeing Heather and Alastair together didn’t bother me like I’d expected. They deserved one another. When I looked at them, smiling and preening, I felt nothing other than annoyance because they’d ruined a perfectly good Saturday night.
“Her dress is gaudy and hideous,” Aria said as we emerged through the threshold of the double doors.
The couple in front of us gaped and sent her horrified looks.
Aria simply smiled. “Hello.”
I fought a laugh. It was . . . surprising. I hadn’t thought I’d have to fight much other than my gag reflex tonight.
Gaudy was definitely Heather’s style. The skirt of her dress ballooned to nearly four feet in diameter. Alastair had to stretch his arm over the skirts to touch his new bride’s arm.
Golden light bathed us from head to toe as we shuffled deeper into the ballroom. Crystal sconces cast gleaming rays onto the blue and cream filigree–papered walls. My shoes sank into the lush navy carpet swirled with varying shades of sandstone, powder and ivory.
Islands of cocktail tables covered in white cloths filled the room. A string quartet was playing in the distant corner.
Ornately carved sills framed the windows that lined the room in steady succession. The domed ceiling was broken into sunken sections, each delimited by more carvings and accentuated with chandeliers. The circular ballroom provided a stunning view of the city lights beyond.
“Wow.” Aria’s eyes roved from wall to ceiling to floor to window. “Quite the place.”