Page 16 of Bound To Be Mine

“You used to be able to drink us all under the table,” Dash said, with what sounded like genuine nostalgia. “You’d go out after finals and come back three days later looking like a Viking returning from a successful raid. You’re a lightweight now.”

“I have a demanding job.”

“We all have demanding jobs,” Adrian said.

“Are we done? I need to hydrate before my walk of shame.”

Adrian got to his feet. “This is serious, Briggs. This deal expands our empire. It’s the first of its kind. We’re doing lifestyle and fashion. Not basic bitch stuff. This is going to be huge and it only works with her.”

“I heard you.” I took a deep breath before I lost my composure.

“Good. I’m going to go home, hold my son, and stare at my beautiful wife.”

I nodded. “Enjoy. Now can I please get five minutes to get my shit together?”

My brothers left me alone. I spent the next fifteen minutes downing the coffee. Then the water followed by the juice. I was still thirsty, but the cobwebs were clearing. I could almost think straight.

Jasmine brought me another round of drinks for the cab ride to the hotel that was thankfully only a few blocks away. It was summer in midtown, which always made the smells just a little extra. Extra gross. I sat in the back, closed my eyes, and drank the rest of my water. I tried to construct an apology that would accomplish what I needed it to accomplish without costing myself any more dignity.

I was sorry. That was genuine. I had gone into a meeting underprepared and handled it badly. A business arrangement that should have been straightforward had fallen apart because of assumptions I shouldn’t have made. That was it. It really wasn’t a personal attack.

Now, I just had to make her see it that way. I had a feeling that was going to be a lot easier said than actually done.

The cab stopped in front of the hotel, one of the better ones in the city. I got out, went through the lobby, and braced myself on the elevator ride up. I made my way to her room, stood in front of the door for a few seconds, and rehearsed what I would say.

Then, I knocked.

When the door opened, all the words that had been carefully arranged into a brief speech were thrown into the air and scattered eighteen different ways.

She was in a fluffy hotel bathrobe tied at the waist. Her hair was damp and pushed back from her face, dark against her neck, and her cheeks were flushed pink from what I assumed was a recent shower. She was looking at me with an expression of pure bewilderment, like she’d been expecting anyone in the world except the person she’d found.

And now I was the one speechless.

6

MANDY

Istared at him, wondering if I was still dreaming. This had to be some kind of champagne-induced hallucination. Briggs Blackwell was standing in the hallway outside my hotel room, looking decidedly less perfect than he had yesterday. His hair was still styled, his suit still immaculate, but there was something different about him. His eyes were a little bloodshot. He looked… hungover?

Good. I hoped he felt like shit.

I put my hands on my hips and glared at him, remembering exactly why I hated this man. “I’ll admit, I like you better when you’re not talking, but is there something I can help you with?”

That seemed to snap him out of whatever daze he’d fallen into. He blinked, straightened his shoulders, and cleared his throat. “I’m here to apologize.”

I waited but he didn’t continue. “Generally an apology comes with words or gifts and your hands are empty.”

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, and to my surprise, he actually seemed sincere. There was something almost angry in his expression. I leaned forward to see if Adrian was standing nearby and somehow forcing his brother to say the words. “I’m sorry for how I acted yesterday. I should have known who you were before I walked into that meeting. It was sloppy of me.”

“Everyone makes mistakes,” I said, though I didn’t mean it as absolution. I was just stating a fact.

“I don’t.” His jaw tightened. “When an attorney makes a mistake, it’s called malpractice. And it’s a whole thing.” He paused, his blue eyes meeting mine. “I’m here to ask if you’ll reconsider working with us.”

I studied him, weighing my options. I could slam the door in his face. It would feel good, satisfying even. My fingers were itching to do just that. Or I could hear him out. The deal was good. I knew it was good. And despite his assholery, the Blackwell name would open doors I’d been trying to kick down for years.

“You can take me to breakfast and talk,” I said finally.

Relief flickered across his features. “Of course. Where would you like to go?”