“Are you fucking my son?”
Chapter Eight
* * *
Bryn
MY MOUTH IS completely dry as I gape at Matt’s father, shocked that he would say such a crude and horrible thing.
They have similar features, Vinnie and Matt. Same dark hair and brown eyes, though Matt’s are much kinder than Vinnie’s cold, almost mocking glare. His mouth is set in a firm line too, as if he doesn’t smile much.
I bet he doesn’t. It seems he’s got a mean streak in him a mile wide.
“Well? Cat got your tongue or what? I can only take your silence as confirmation that yes, indeedy, you’re fucking my son,” he says. “The lucky bastard.”
Swallowing hard, I search for composure. The very last thing I want him to believe is that Matt and I are having some sort of illicit affair. I wouldn’t put it past this man to sell the story to whoever would listen if it brought him any bit of attention.
“Your son is my boss,” I finally say, my voice raspy, and I clear my throat. “That’s it. There’s nothing between us except a working relationship.”
He casts a skeptical glance my way. “Uh huh. That’s why he looks at you like you’re his favorite dessert and he’s a starving man. I get it. Really I do. I never could keep my dick in my pants, you know, especially when faced with a gorgeous woman such as yourself. And neither can he.” Reaching out, he touches me, slides his fingers down my forearm. I yank my arm away, my skin literally crawling from his touch.
“There’s nothing going on between us,” I say, my voice firm, my insides anything but. I’m a nervous, quaking mess, afraid this man will somehow figure out that Matt and I have at least kissed.
His questions, his blunt wording, are tainting everything I’ve shared with Matt. Reminding me that I’m just the same ol’ girl from Cactus, Texas. The girl everyone chases after and expects sexual favors from, all because she has a pretty face and curvy figure.
That’s me. I’m that girl, the one that everyone makes feel like she’s a slut. A whore. I’ve slept with two men in my life. I could count the sexual experiences I’ve had on one hand. Nothing lasting, nothing good, and I always run before it can turn into anything more. I’m always too scared.
Yet I’m the shameless hussy who’s out to fuck around with every man I see. I’m a home wrecker. A man stealer. A girl who’s good for nothing but cock sucking. A pervert’s dream. I’ve been told this time and again.
And I’m being told it right now.
“You keep on saying there’s nothing between you two but soon you’ll fall under the DeLuca charm. You all do. We’re irresistible. My son and I have both had plenty of women. I know when one’s interested. And you my girl, you are definitely interested.” Vinnie puts his hand over mine and holds firm, trapping it on the table. “If my son doesn’t take the bait, just know I’m always here waiting whenever you’re ready.”
Oh my God. Now he thinks they’re interchangeable? That I’ll just bounce from father to son? “You’re disgusting,” I say, my voice low as I finally snatch my hand back from beneath his.
He laughs, the sound so loud more than a few people turn and look in our direction, including Matt. He shoots me a look of concern, but I shake my head, offer him a quick smile. The last thing I want is him coming over here and discovering this particular conversation. I can handle this man on my own.
He’s not the first to think like this, and I’m guessing he won’t be the last.
“Disgusting only because you don’t want to hear the truth.” He reaches for his cup of coffee and drains it. “Keep doing what you’re doing, girly. He’ll get you into his bed sooner or later.”
That’s it. I’ve had it. The man is a pig, and I need to get him out of here. “How did you get here tonight, Mr. DeLuca?” I ask, using my best, most professional voice. Not a twang or y’all in sight.
“Ah, now we’re back to the formalities huh? Well, I got myself a ride. The car and driver are sitting out in the parking lot,” he says with a grin.
“Then let’s go.” I stand and grab hold of his arm, yanking him to his feet. He stares down at me in shock, most likely surprised little ol’ me could tug him to his feet like that, but I just smile my best smile and lead him toward the entrance of the winery. “You need to get on home. I know Matt was thrilled you thought of him and wanted to stop by, but I think your time here is through.”
“You can’t just push me out of here,” he mutters, but I ignore him practically dragging him by the arm toward the valets we hired for this evening. I paste my cordial, I-work-here smile on my face as I stop before them.
“We’re looking for Mr. DeLuca’s car. Do you happen to know where it is?”
One of them did, enabling me with the pleasure of dumping Vinnie DeLuca off onto some other poor, hapless soul and wiping my hands of him and his antics for the evening.
“Think you can get rid of me that quick, missy?” Vinnie shouts from the open window of his car, but I ignore him. Why engage the crazy?
I head back to the courtyard, wincing when my new stiletto sandals pinch my toes. I’m not used to heels or to walking on graveled pathways and cobbled courtyards in heels. I can’t wait to soak my feet in the bath when I get home.
Alone.
Because there is no way I can pursue something, anything with Matt. Spending just ten minutes in his father’s presence confirmed that. I can’t go on pretending we would work out. I’d be seen as the gold-digging slut because I’m the poor girl from Texas dating the rich, billionaire boss and he’d be seen as the ass who couldn’t keep it in his pants around his own employee.
Any sort of relationship between the two of us, temporary or serious, could ruin his reputation as a businessman in the area. I refuse to play a part in that. I would never be able to forgive myself.
And what would that do to me? I can’t destroy my last chance here at a great job. If I fail at this, I’m going home. I can’t afford to live in this outrageously expensive state while unemployed. Lord knows I’d hightail it out of here if I did end up parting ways with Matt professionally. It’s hard enough as it is, finding a job that pays as well as mine in the area.
My footsteps slow, and I stop just at the edge of the courtyard, watching everyone. I see Gage and Marina out on the dance floor swaying in each other’s arms as they smile and then laugh. I see Matt talking with another group, all of them men, every one of them reeking with importance.
I hope they can give him the connections he’s looking for.
He looks so handsome in his dark suit and wine-colored tie, his hair ruffled by the occasional breeze. His smile flashes white against the tan of his skin and there are slight wrinkles around his eyes, as if he laughs often.
Which I hope he does. I haven’t seen him laugh much since he’s been so stressed-out since I started working for him, but hopefully that will change once everything settles down. Then he can relax and reap the benefits of all this hard work.
I probably won’t be around to witness it though. And that thought alone fills me with such complete and utter sadness, I almost fall to the ground, my legs get so wobbly.
Pushing on, I head toward the crowds opposite of where Matt stands. I find an empty table and collapse in a chair, slipping my hand beneath the heavy weight of my hair, so I can rub my neck. No wonder I don’t wear it down very often. It’s heavy and thick, making me hot and my neck hurt.
I should just cut it all off and be done with it.
“Are you all right? You look like you’re contemplating murder.” Ivy pulls out a chair and settles in next to me.
“Only the murder of my hair.” At her weird look I explain. “I’m thinking of cutting it all off.”
“Don’t you dare. It’s gorgeous.”
I shrug. “Like anyone notices. This has all been for nothing.”
“Ah, Matt didn’t notice? I know he’s busy trying to keep everyone happy tonight,” Ivy reminds me.
“Oh, he noticed.” He definit
ely noticed if his mouth fused with mine and his hands roaming all over my body earlier was any indication. “His father came along though and ruined everything.”
Ivy’s mouth dropped open. “His father came? I never saw him.”
“Aren’t you lucky?” I mutter.
“Aw. Did he say something awful to you?” Ivy reaches out and grabs my hand, giving it a quick squeeze. “He’s terrible—says the most offensive things ever. When I was younger, he used to try and hit on me.”
“He doesn’t try and hit on you now?”
“Well, I haven’t seen him in a while and besides, Archer would kill him. Like tear him apart and murder him with his bare hands if he so much as leered at me, let alone touched me.” Ivy smiles, a dreamy look in her eyes. “He’s so hot when he gets all possessive like that.”
Envy curls through me, gripping me tight. “Must be nice.”
“Someday I bet you’ll experience the same thing with Matt,” Ivy says, full of a confidence I wished I felt even a tenth of.
Instead of making her more curious, I decide to put on a brave face. “Yeah, maybe I will,” I say with a false enthusiasm that makes Ivy give me the side eye.
I can’t get anything right, I swear.
Matt
I CAUGHT SIGHT of Bryn escorting my dad out of here not even twenty minutes ago, and it was like a weight had been lifted off me, making me infinitely lighter. It took everything in me not to fret and worry like a little old lady, my gaze constantly going to where Bryn sat with Dad.
I was afraid he’d say something horrible to her, or worse, touch her in an inappropriate manner. Wouldn’t be the first time he’s done something like that to some poor, innocent woman.
I just don’t want him doing it to my woman.
With my dad off the premises, I find my focus and really start to work it. I talk to the local winery owners I invited, who all seemed grudgingly impressed with my wine list. I speak with plenty of local media who want to feature the DeLuca Winery; being a former pro ball player gives my story an extra edge they all want to explore.
I haven’t eaten dinner and I’m starved, living on the occasional appetizer I find here and there, taking way too many swigs of wine. My head is spinning—I’m high on tonight’s event coming together so perfectly—and I wonder where the hell Bryn is.
Plans to celebrate with her are definitely on my late-night agenda.
“Have you seen Bryn?” I ask Archer when I find him moving through the crowd, clutching two glasses, one full of water. I figure he’s on his way back to Ivy.
“She’s sitting with Ivy over there.” He gestures with one of the glasses. “Ivy asked me to grab her a drink.”
I should probably stay and talk with my guests some more, but I’m growing exhausted being on all the time. I need a break. I want to hang out with my people. “Yeah, I’ll come with you.”
“Uh huh.” Archer flashes me a knowing smile over his shoulder as I fall into step behind him. “Missing your girl, hmm?”
“She’s not my girl,” I say, though the thought of Bryn with any other man, of her giving another man the right to call her his girl, fills me with a near overwhelming rush of jealousy.
Yeah. That was sort of a lie. I wouldn’t mind if Bryn was my girl. But she can’t be my girl. I have a bet to win.
Fuck the bet.
“You got what—less than forty days? Then she can be your girl. If you can hold out that long,” Archer says, stopping at the table where Ivy and Bryn are sitting, deep in conversation. “Look who I found, ladies,” he announces as he sets the glasses in front of the women.
They both glance up, their gazes dark and not necessarily happy when they see me.
Weird.
“Hey, Matt,” Ivy says first, grabbing her water glass and taking a big swig. “Looks like tonight was a huge success despite your father showing up.”
I frown. Great, did she notice? Or did Bryn tell her? “Yeah, well thanks to the dependable Miss James, who took care of everything and made sure he didn’t cause too much of a scene.”
“Yes, well thank goodness. You can always count on Miss James. Right, Bryn?” Ivy casts her an unreadable glance, which Bryn returns silently.
The vibe is completely off though Archer seems oblivious to it. They’d been talking about me. And somehow, someway, I must’ve pissed Bryn off. But how? She’d been so sweet to me right before she went and took care of my dad. How could it all have fallen apart in that short amount of time? Could Dad have said something to her, and she’s keeping it to herself?
Shit.
“Well, listen I’m going to wander around and see if there’s anything else that needs to be done,” I say, gripping the chair in front of me.
“Off to play the gracious host, huh?” Archer asks, slinging his arm around Ivy’s shoulders. She snuggles up closer to him and jealousy fills me, sharp and painful.
I wish I had the right to be as affectionate with Bryn. We’re not even close to that comfort level yet. I touch her in front of Gage and Archer and they’ll be all over me like white on rice, ready to call the entire bet off.
Not that I care about the million dollars, but damn it, it’s the principle. I won that bet fair and square. I want to collect from them and rub it in their faces.
I feel like an immature asshole, but I want to win.
“Gotta do what I must to ensure everyone’s having a good time,” I say with a smile, glancing at Bryn to find her watching me with those all-seeing, sky-blue eyes.
“Do you need my help?” she asks.
“No, relax. Sit and enjoy the party. You dealt with enough already.” I’m trying to communicate with her how much I appreciate her taking care of my dad. That couldn’t have been easy. The old man is a grumpy asshole with a mouth that never, ever stops.
“Okay. As long as you’re sure.” She smiles but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She looks so beautiful and so incredibly fragile sitting there next to the pregnant Ivy, who’s glowing with vitality. Compared to her, Bryn’s natural light from the last week is dimmed. She doesn’t need the beige tonight. Even in magenta she looks subdued.
And I hate that. Knowing I’m the cause of it all.
“Could I talk to you for a moment though?” I suddenly ask. “Privately?” I need to make sure she’s all right.
“Sure.” She shrugs those beautiful, bared shoulders and stands, going round the table so she’s next to me. I lead her away to another table at the far end of the courtyard, ignoring Archer since I can feel him watching me. Just waiting for me to slip up and somehow touch Bryn inappropriately in front of him.
Jackass.
“What’s going on?” she asks when we stop to talk.
“Did my father say something to you? Did he offend you or try to put his hands on you?” I ask, cutting right to the point.
She sighs, hangs her head. “He said a few things. Nothing that I haven’t heard before.”
What the hell does she mean by that? “What are you talking about?”
Bryn lifts her head so her gaze meets mine once more. “He asked if the two of us were—sleeping together yet, though he phrased it a little more crudely.”
I inwardly groan. “What did you tell him?”
“I told him we weren’t, of course, which is the truth.” She stresses the last word. “He didn’t believe me.”
“What a bastard,” I mutter, running my hand through my hair in pure frustration. “How did you get him to leave?”
“Well, he wouldn’t stop with the crude remarks and insults so I finally dragged him to his feet and hauled him out of here. Turned him over to the guys working valet, and they got him to his car,” she explains matter-of-factly.
While I wish I could’ve been there by her side to defend her, I’m also proud of the fact that she handled herself so calmly. “You’re amazing,” I say softly, wishing I could touch her. But I can still feel Archer’s eyes on me so there’s no way I’m going to do it.
“I di
d what you asked. Don’t make it out to be more than it was.” She offers me a wan smile. “Is that all you wanted to ask me?”
“Bryn.” Unable to help myself, I reach out and touch her arm lightly. Screw it. I don’t care what Archer thinks. “Are you okay? You seem upset.”
“Nothing like a little dose of reality to bring me back and remind me of what I really am.” The smile turns brittle, and she inclines her head toward the rest of the partygoers circling in the courtyard. “You need to go talk to everyone else and make them all happy that they got a chance to speak to the owner of the new and rather impressive DeLuca Winery, don’t you think?”
I let my hand drop. “Can I see you? Later tonight?”
She slowly shakes her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mr. DeLuca.”
And with those last words, she walks away, leaving me in the dust.
Chapter Nine
* * *
Bryn
THE PHONE HAS been ringing constantly since I got into work this morning, but I blame that on the aftermath of the party. Everyone’s looking for Matt, including me. Though I shouldn’t. I’m not sure if I’m quite ready to face him yet.
I stayed home the entire weekend, not daring to go out, barely glancing at my phone. I ignored the calls and texts from Ivy and Marina, ignored the single text from Matt too. It wasn’t work related so I figured I was safe. The text had come Saturday afternoon, asking if I’d survived the night okay, and I didn’t bother answering.
How could I tell him the night had been a revelation? That I realized exactly who I am and what people saw when they looked at me? Well, specifically what men see, minus the bland outfits and boring hair.
That hurt, though deep down inside, I knew it. That’s why I hid, pretending to be something I’m not.
Avoiding Ivy and Marina was tough because I would’ve loved to confide in them but what if my confession turned them against me? All the old worries and insecurities swamped me these last few days. It’s hard to shake those old habits when they’d been such a part of my life for so long. Men don’t respect me, they never have. I didn’t have many friends growing up, and I definitely haven’t had any since I’ve come to California.
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