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“There you are,” my mother said, patting her companion’s arm. “That’s my boy.”
“Blake, is it?” The man held out his hand and I shook automatically, though I had no doubt he knew who I was. That he’d known even before he’d hooked up with my mother.
It wouldn’t be the first time.
“Yes. Blake. You’re Brant.” I didn’t tack on a question, because I’d recognized him right away.
I’d researched him after my conversation with my mother the other day, and what I’d found matched her usual boyfriend. Questionable past that included a couple of minor incarcerations, sketchy work history, four failed marriages. I tried not to judge considering my own history, but when it came to my mother, I wasn’t good at giving the benefit of the doubt.
“That I am. We were hoping to sit down with you, maybe have some lunch. If the staff can whip something up on such short notice,” he said with a wink.
“There is no staff.” I unlocked my door and led the way inside, bypassing the fountain to toss my keys on a fussy pedestal table some associate had given me at a housewarming party. I hadn’t thrown it myself. That had been Jack’s idea, more to piss me off than anything else.
For a former Ranger, Jack thought he was damn entertaining. When I’d hired him, I’d expected a gruff, rough, military-type. He definitely had that side. He was just choosy about showing it.
I had no doubt he’d be showing it to Brant right now. We shared an uncanny sixth sense about people. It helped in business, and in life.
But I had a gruff, rough side of my own.
“No staff?” Brant repeated, clearly shocked. “This place isn’t as big as I figured it would be, what with the bazillions and all, but these are nice digs. Who keeps it up for you?”
“I keep it up for me.” I turned to face the pair of them. My mother was wrapped around him like a vine, her hopeful expression both reminding me of Grace’s last night and stirring my anger. At him, not her. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but I also wouldn’t tread gently if this asshole turned out to be a money-grubber like the rest.
We weren’t off to a great start.
“I have two arms, two legs, two hands and two feet. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of my own affairs.”
“He doesn’t like people,” my mother confided to Brant.
“Oh. Well then, that makes sense. Reclusive billionaire, slumming it in an ordinary neighborhood. Hiding in plain sight.” He gave me a toothy grin and I barely resisted the urge to plant my fist.
>
Violent tendencies weren’t usually a problem for me. Neither was mind-erasing lust. If this new emotion was also due to my…whatever the hell it was with Grace, I would be sure to express my displeasure in a way that suited us both.
Like fucking the holy hell out of her.
“He’s not hiding. Are you hiding, Blake? All those fancy schmancy females you used to parade around with certainly kept you in the public eye.”
Used to being the operative words. I’d spent some time sampling all the delicacies that came along with being filthy rich. That time had passed.
Now I just wanted to be left alone to work.
“Mother, I have plans this afternoon.” They consisted of work and more work—work I was behind on, thanks to my obsession with observing Grace in her natural office environment—before we attended the Light Up The Night event. “My schedule is packed right now, but perhaps we could make plans for another day.”
One far in the future. Hopefully, by then she would’ve broken up with the sod and I wouldn’t have to kick his ass to the curb for her.
“But we’re here now.” I hated seeing that crestfallen expression on her face almost as much as knowing the con artist at her side was most likely casing the joint. So-called slums or not.
“I don’t have much food. It’s just me,” I added when Brant prepared to launch into his latest diatribe. “I don’t stock a lot because I won’t eat it, so I’m unprepared for guests.”
“We could go out,” Brant suggested. “It’s just a matter of sitting down and bonding, son.” He moved forward to clasp my shoulder and I swear to God, every muscle in my arm tensed in preparation to swing.
I couldn’t do this. Not today. I didn’t know when I’d be able to, but definitely not now. I was already so raw and ragged from Grace, and I had to be ready for Jimmy’s awareness gathering tonight.
“My biological father is dead,” I said coldly. “He never earned the right to call me son, and you damn sure haven’t.”
I glanced at my mother and tried not to be affected by the horror in her eyes. That their hazel color was a mirror of my own made it twice as hard. “I’ll talk to you later.”
