Perfect Grump: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

by Snow, Nicole

  Her eyes drop to our intertwined hands and then rise to my face.

  “I’m not upset. It’s been a long day. I need to get you home and come back to the office to grab Millie.”

  “Would you feel better if we searched your sister’s place again? I can help. I have time right now.”

  She pulls her hand from my grasp and locks her fingers together in her lap, looking down.

  “We’ve been through this before. It’s not your problem.” She shakes her head. “Honestly, it’s probably stupid to think we’d find anything. The place was combed over by investigators...”

  “You want one more look. I don’t think it’s a bad idea, and I want you two safe.” The truth is, I need them safe. I can’t handle the idea of something happening to them. “We don’t know what your sister was involved in or what was really going on. And if she’s not talking, we need clues.”

  “Why?”

  “What was Abby doing the night she got in trouble?”

  “...I don’t know,” Reese says, twirling a lock of brunette hair around her fingers anxiously.

  “Who was she with?” I ask slowly.

  A hot tear slides down her cheek.

  “I told you, I don’t know, dammit. I’ve been asking myself the same questions constantly. I tried to pull it out of her repeatedly. Abby thinks she got pulled over for a blown taillight, but I don’t believe it. Especially with the medical record showing someone hit her. There’s more to this than she’s saying. She told me she can’t talk because she thinks she’s protecting me and Millie. From who, from what, I don’t know.”

  It hurts like a punch to the jaw to see her so lost.

  Hell, if I could just give her answers, I’d take a decade of Roland Birdshit’s incessant torture.

  I reach over, using my thumb to wipe the tracks left by the tears off her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry, Reese. It’s not over yet.”

  Blinking, she heaves out a slow breath.

  “I appreciate what you’re trying to do. But you’re Nick Freaking Brandt, the Windy City’s finest.” She uses a fake Queen’s English voice for that last line. “And...I’m Reese Halle. Former orphan and sister of a walking mystery case who’s hopefully not facing life in prison.” Her plain Yankee accent with the occasional drawn-out vowel is back.

  “I like Reese Halle’s voice better than that British bullshit,” I say.

  She snorts and gives me a faint smile.

  “The point is, you’re a billionaire. Your worries exist in another universe. I know you work hard, but you play just as hard. If a reporter ever takes an interest in me, it’ll be because I ran over some famous person and killed them.”

  “I’ll post your bail,” I say.

  She snorts again. “I know you’re trying to be nice, but Abby’s mess isn’t your problem. You’re the billionaire boss, and I’m just the driver.”

  “What do you mean ‘just?’”

  “You know what I mean, Nick. I don’t think you should make this your fight. Let me sort it out on my own.”

  “I don’t want to interfere. I want to fucking fix it,” I say, reaching for her face, tilting her chin up to look at me with those wide, sparkling gas flames for eyes. “I need to know you’re safe.”

  She’s quiet for a minute. “I saw The Chicago Tea today.”

  Fuck. This is going nowhere good.

  “Hope you at least had a laugh,” I say.

  She doesn’t smile. “Those were some pretty racy photos of you and Carmen on the beach...”

  “It was years ago, Reese. I don’t know why the jagoff published them today. I wish he wouldn’t have. It’s like he’s determined to wreck me just for fun.”

  “You’ve got a Hollywood model slash actress who clearly isn’t over you. I can’t help but wonder why you’re so insistent on taking on my problems. I’m no model. Just a boring girl from Rockford,” she says with a worried look.

  “Nothing boring about you, and just because she isn’t over me doesn’t mean I’m not over her. It really doesn’t matter. I’ll wait until he gets bored and fucks off to hound someone else.”

  If only it was that easy. I don’t dare mention the X-rated video dangling over my head like a guillotine, a career-ending atom bomb Carmen could unleash anytime, even if it wrecks her, too.

  “Nick, I’m sorry this Osprey guy wants to trash your reputation. Your family’s been through enough with everything that happened last year. But doesn’t that prove my point? Don’t you have your own crap to worry about?” She tilts her head, studying me. “I just...I don’t understand. Is this some kind of weird stress relief for you? Trying to fix my life because—because maybe you can’t fix yours?”

  What the fuck?

  My gut twists, even as her face registers pure horror a second after the words fall out. This is what she thinks of me?

  Hell. What if she’s right?

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean...” She grabs my arm. “Nick—wait!”

  “Forget it. I’ll walk the rest of the way since we’re only a few blocks from my place. Have a good night, Reese.” I open the passenger door and stalk out.

  I’m across the parking lot and on the sidewalk when I look back. The Lincoln’s still parked.

  Whatever. She can sit there as long as she wants. I have nothing to say if I only bring her grief over ulterior motives.

  She calls me three times.

  After the third attempt, I send her a text, walking through the lobby of my penthouse.

  I’m busy. See you tomorrow.

  I silence my phone and drop it back in my coat pocket.

  I have nothing left to say to you tonight, Miss Halle.

  Can I really blame her for thinking that, though? Honestly?

  The Chicago Tea proves one thing—there’s an avalanche of shit out about me waiting to break every day. If I were a twenty-something year old woman whose life was falling apart, I wouldn’t put my faith in the Nicholas Brandt either.

  No matter what I do there, I’m cursed.

  There’s no coming back from the past.

  Memories of her first month race through my head. I probably mistook her for a college boy because I was drunk off my ass. Even with her bulky winter trench coat and cap, there’s no way a body like Reese Halle’s looks remotely male.

  I’m such a fallen fucking star.

  If my grandparents weren’t Brandts, I’d be living in a cardboard box.

  No wonder she questions my motives even if she’s dead wrong about them.

  No wonder I look like this clumsy, washed-up superhero charging into her mess with nothing but deep pockets to help.

  No wonder I’m still jerking off to this woman, coming in the shower with a release that hurts—and it’s as close as I’ll ever get to having her under me.

  Let her think I’m human trash.

  I’m not backing off until I know they’re safe. She can be pissed and insult me to my face if she wants. I don’t fucking care.

  Helping her is one thing I won’t regret, even if I’ve got a better chance of becoming the Pope than having one torrid night of sheet-ripping sex with Reese Halle.

  Sitting by the fireplace I don’t bother to light, I stare at the darkening cityscape until I’m buried in shadows. I unmute my phone before I bother voice-activating the lamp.

  She hasn’t tried to call again.

  Good, I lie to myself.

  Jaw clenched, I send another message. Forget about earlier. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have stormed off like a dejected thirteen-year-old.

  Her response is immediate.

  Bossman, truth be told, you’re always a little Jekyll and Hyde. But you’re not the one who should be apologizing. I had no right to ask you that crap, and I’m sorry.

  I smile because that’s my Reese.

  Correction: that’s Reese, and I only wish she was mine.

  I know what I need to do.

  I have to get to the bottom of whatever’s happening with her sister,
before it gets the jump on her or that poor kid.

  Then I need to permanently delete her from my dirty dreams, my lust, my quiet obsession that only grows harsher the longer we play this long game.

  Even if it kills me, I’ll protect her from me.

  13

  Cannonball Proof (Reese)

  Millie and I are at Millennium Park, her favorite place in the city.

  She’s adorable and carefree, tottering around the Bean, a gleaming icon like quicksilver in the sun.

  In my head, I keep replaying my stupidity with Nick last night. And it feels pretty terrible that he was the first to apologize—even if I tried to beat him to the punch with my calls.

  He shouldn’t have. I was nothing short of rude as hell. On impulse, I send him a text.

  I’m sorry again for last night.

  The worst part is, I’m not sure I was wrong. I definitely should not have blurted it out to his face, but...

  The amount of time he spends worrying about us is interesting, considering his inability to keep his own life together.

  He may be changing, but he’s still the world’s hottest walking time bomb. It’s like New Nick doesn’t know how to handle his devilish good looks without any sin.

  Then again, I’m in no place to guess at what goes on in his head, much less his heart.

  My brain is so messed up right now I could scream.

  Abby was always who I turned to for advice, the big sister I could count on.

  We grew up with the same history.

  She went through the system’s spinning knives with me.

  She understands.

  She knows what it’s like to have nothing and no one in a way most people never will.

  Sure, Abby has her own demons to conquer. She may not be perfect, but I thought she was doing better. She always showered love on Millie, and I didn’t realize how much work love is until I’ve had to do it every day.

  And I’m still thanking my lucky stars I had my load lightened so I can hold on to a shred of normalcy.

  If my smirking, bewildering, and yes—drop-dead sexy—split personality grump of a boss hadn’t come through for me, I’d be struggling, and I earn a nice income.

  Now I understand even more why Abby always needed help financially.

  But we’ve always been there for each other.

  If I don’t free her, I’m letting her down, and I’m the only hope she has.

  Not to mention the idea of her missing so much of Millie’s life. It makes me sick, and so does the thought of Millie starting to forget her own mom.

  A random woman sits down on the bench beside me. She stares at me for a second too long. I don’t meet her eyes. She probably thinks I’m too young to be at the park with a kid Millie’s age.

  Whatever, it’s none of her business.

  When I look up, a kid comes running across the park, an older boy who looks like he’s six or seven. He about to plow dead into Millie and he doesn’t see her.

  “Millie!” I bolt up, beckoning her with my hands. “Move over!”

  For once, she listens, giggling the whole time. She runs at me on her stubby legs just as the boy goes blasting by the spot where she stood a second ago.

  Close call. Concussion by a quick moving monster-kid narrowly averted.

  God. I’m going to go grey by twenty-five if this keeps up.

  She runs up to me and hugs my leg.

  I lean forward and kiss her on the head. “Go play, but stay where I can see you.”

  “O-kay.” And she’s off again.

  Yep. Parenting isn’t for the faint of heart.

  My phone pings.

  Nick responded.

  My heart jumps. What did he say?

  I press my back against the bench until it hurts. My nosy bench neighbor glances at me again.

  I bet I look like a crazy person, flipping out like a college girl with her first big crush on a dude ten thousand percent out of her league. Sighing, I read his message.

  Already forgotten. You were stressed. You’ve heard my mouth misfire a hundred times when the pressure’s on. I’m not curled up in a ball sobbing over any hurt feelings, believe me.

  There’s a gif attached of a cannonball bouncing off a man’s rock-hard abs.

  I laugh. It’s so Nick.

  Equal parts jokester and brooding strongman.

  Yeah, I definitely overreacted. It’s not my place to judge him for being rich and irresponsible and trying to do his best. He’s been nothing but helpful. Office playroom and hired nanny aside, without his attorney, there’s no way I could even start to help Abby.

  I need to make it up to him with more than a lame apology, but I don’t have the energy right now. My eyes are also glued to Millie, who’s now jumping around a bench, holding out her hands like she wants to take flight.

  “You and me both, bumblebee,” I mutter.

  “You loved that text,” Nosy Bench Neighbor says. “How’d you get lucky enough to date a comedian?”

  Wait. That voice.

  I look up. “Oh my God, Paige! I didn’t realize it was you. I’m sorry.”

  She smiles, pulling down a pair of oversized shades on her nose.

  “No problem. I wanted to see how long it’d take before you noticed.”

  “What brings you to a park midday?” I ask.

  “I needed some fresh air before my sculpture classes tonight. It’s good for the muse,” she says with a smile.

  “How’s your studio doing?”

  “I love it. I’m teaching seniors how to sculpt their self-portraits. You know I still stop by the office every now and then just to help Ward and Nick.” She leans over, dropping her voice to a whisper. “They know their new assistant isn’t half as good as me.”

  “Ha, you’ve got big heels to fill, lady. She’s not bad, but she just isn’t as quick as you.”

  Paige smiles. “It’s my husband and brother-in-law. What would I be if I didn’t offer to take care of them every once in a while?”

  “You don’t request rides as much as you used to.”

  “I mean, I’m not technically on payroll.” She grins and blushes. “Plus, a lot of my classes run late in the evening. Ward drives me to those. He insists on coming because he doesn’t like me downtown alone after dark.”

  “More like he doesn’t like letting you out of his sight.”

  She slaps my arm. “Enough about me. Who lit up your face with that text?”

  Since she put it like that...now I don’t want to tell her.

  “Nick...the Prick himself,” I say, though I have to fight to push that last part out.

  “Oh, you’re still calling him that?” Again, she gives me that look over her sunglasses.

  I narrow my eyes. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  For a second, I’m alarmed. What has he said to her?

  She smiles like a cat with a toy. “Because he hired you a nanny who tutors Millie. That’s not very prick-like.”

  I wave my hand. “Oh, boy. Has he told you about all the other stuff?”

  “Maybe. I mean, I only know there’s an issue with your sister. He’s been awfully protective of your privacy. Hope things are okay. It’s kinda fun hating your hot boss, isn’t it? I should know since I married mine.” She sticks her tongue out.

  I laugh. “I guess, but...what do you mean?”

  “Every time you pick me up, you have a new war story, and there’s only one Brandt boy who’s always the star.” She leans over again, dropping her voice. “Good thing, too. If it was Ward, I might have to kill you.”

  “Stop!” I push at her playfully. “Look, since I don’t drive you around much these days and Bea’s gone, he’s just my most interesting passenger. Also, your husband is way too nice and boring now. As his driver, that’s cool. I won’t sneeze at low-drama passengers. But that also makes Nick like a hundred percent of my road hazards these days.”

  “Mister Road Hazard seems to be helping stop a lot of crashes lately,” she says knowing
ly. “I think he’s turning over a new leaf.”

  A smile pulls at my lips.

  “Could be. I’m not sure how I ever would’ve handled this without him. Like you said, he hired Millie a nanny, but he also helped my sister out with a good attorney.” I leave it at that.

  I don’t want to say anything she doesn’t already know or have her thinking my sister is some kind of criminal lunatic.

  Then I remember Paige Brandt is Nick’s sister-in-law, privy to Brandt family secrets I can only imagine. She must know more about him than I do...right?

  “Hey, can I ask you something?” I venture, keeping my eyes on Millie.

  “Of course.”

  “What’s the deal with Nick?”

  She gives me a long look and snickers. “I’m not sure what to tell you. He’s a hot mess, and I do mean hot. Although, I did snag the sexier Brandt, so meh.”

  She also got the more boring brother, but I don’t say anything.

  “I’d be lying if I didn’t emphasize the mess part. It’s not entirely his fault, though. What do you know about how things went down with Victor and Giselle Brandt last year?” she asks.

  “Their parents? I know enough. I think. I know they were shady as hell and always trying to drag down Beatrice, their sons, you, and anyone else at the company if they thought it would hurt Bea or get them more money.”

  Paige nods. “Anything else?”

  “Nick mentioned that he and Ward handed their asses to them so they’d never come around raising trouble again. He wasn’t really specific about how, but I didn’t ask either.”

  She stares at me for a long second. “You guys seem to talk a lot. Interesting.”

  I try not to blush.

  “Well, commuting through Chicago traffic can rack up some serious time in the car together...” I hope she believes me.

  “It’s not just that Ward and Nick’s parents were shady, though. They were, but they were the reason why the Brandts turned into such tabloid material. They were on the family yacht when that actor died. There was never enough evidence to charge them, but everyone believed they were guilty. And every time the boys tried to move past their parents’ scandals, something would dredge it up again. Victor and Giselle were also super pissed because Beatrice cut them out of the will—and they deserved it for being horrible. I don’t want to spill everything, because it’s not my place. But Ward and Nick spent more time with their grandparents growing up, and their parents’ mess left a few scars.”