Page 20 of Falling for the Grumpy Bad Boy

7

RHETT

It was three in the morning and I was so fucking done with people. By midnight, most people had already been shitfaced. I stopped drinking because I refused to be drunk around anyone. It was a risk. That was a rule my father instilled in me from an early age. We could drink, but we could never allow ourselves to get drunk.

Drunk people said and did stupid things. Loose lips were a death sentence. I had to remain in control. I remembered my father’s “training.” He had me drinking whiskey from the time I was twelve. I had built up quite the tolerance. Wine with dinner. Whiskey after dinner. I wasn’t sure I could even get drunk after all of his training.

But it had prevented me from climbing into a bottle like so many other people in that world. I enjoyed a drink at the end of the night. I enjoyed wine with a meal, but I rarely drank to be drunk.

But tonight, I might have to break my own rule. It was too late to call Cara for a booty call. I was an asshole but I had some manners. I couldn’t stop thinking about Clementine.

Clem. She insisted we all call her Clem. She stayed at my table for an hour, and every minute of that hour, my eyes kept returning to her mouth. I couldn’t stop imagining her lips wrapped around my cock.

I knew that made me a jerk, but I couldn’t stop the thoughts.

I was a red-blooded man. I wasn’t the only one that watched her. I saw the looks from the men in the room. They all wanted her. Unlike Hwan, all of us had the decency not to proposition her.

Although the thought had certainly crossed my mind more than once.

The actual event had ended around two, but that was when the real work began. The schmoozing, the ass-kissing, the endless handshakes with donors who needed to feel personally appreciated for their contributions. I had spent the last hour making small talk with people whose names I would forget by morning.

At least it had paid off spectacularly. We had not only met Desman’s ambitious fundraising goal. We outperformed. The man was practically floating by the time the last donor had signed their check, already talking about the tour that would launch on November first.

One week away.

I felt nothing about it. Neutral. Professional satisfaction at a job well done, sure, but no real emotion beyond that. It would be what it would be. The media would sink their teeth into me like they always did whenever I did anything in the public eye. Anytime my name was mentioned in the write-ups, they would mention my family’s less than savory past. The article would have at least a couple paragraphs dissecting my motives and dragging up ancient family history that had nothing to do with feeding hungry people.

They would probably find some way to make charity work sound sinister when my name was attached to it.

But we were going to feed a lot of people over the next month. The tour would hit twelve cities, providing free meals to anyone who showed up, no questions asked. And the grand finale was the free Thanksgiving For All dinner on Thanksgiving Day. It would serve thousands of families who might not otherwise have anywhere to go.

That had to be worth something. Hopefully. If not for me, then for the hungry strangers who would benefit from all this.

“You coming, or are you planning to stand there brooding all night?” Simone’s voice cut through my internal monologue.

I looked up to find her and Conroy waiting by the door, both of them looking as exhausted as I felt.

“Yes,” I said. “We were waiting on you.”

I pushed open the driver and held it for them. We made our way to the waiting limo.

The driver was holding the door open, clearly eager to get this night over with so he could go home to his own bed.

“Shit,” Conroy muttered.

“What?” I asked and turned around.

Hwan Nakamura stumbled out with a girl under each arm. Both of them were young and clearly several drinks past their limit. They were giggling at whatever bullshit he was whispering in their ears. The sight made my jaw clench involuntarily.

I had told Conroy and Simone about the incident after Clem left our table. They weren’t surprised by my reaction.

Hwan stopped walking when he spotted our little group by the limo. He was drunk. It was evident in the ruddiness of his cheeks.

“Well, well,” he slurred. “If it isn’t the knight in shining armor himself.”

I could feel Simone and Conroy tensing beside me, both of them recognizing the potential for this situation to go sideways fast. The smart play was to ignore him, get in the limo, and let him embarrass himself with whoever was unlucky enough to be watching.

The man clearly needed liquid courage to face off against me.