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There’s a loud thud when Malachi drops the magazine into a wastepaper bin beside my desk. “This is the first and last time you bring publicity like this our way.”
His comment fractures my last nerve. I stand abruptly, sending the chair I was sitting on hurtling back. “You have no right to stand there and lecture me. I will date who I want, when I want. I do not need your or anyone else’s permission. And seeing as though the press are so interested in my private affairs, I will make sure to smile for the camera the next time they decide to run a story on me.”
“Lucian—”
I shake my head. “I’m done with this conversation. You need to leave. Go back to Scotland.”
“No can do, little brother. Father has requested that I stick around to keep an eye on you.”
I clench my fists. “Malachi, I’m not asking.”
Seeing my fists, Malachi stands tall. “Should I go grab my duelling pistol?”
“Funny,” I say, rolling my shirt sleeves up. “We deal with this the old-fashioned way.”
Malachi and I fought a lot as children. At five years my senior he would always win, but time has turned my body from a scrawny boy’s to a man’s, and at twenty-seven and thirty-two the size difference has diminished, making this fair game.
Malachi smiles triumphantly. “Always so angry.” He tsks. “But I’m not here to fight. I’m here because you’re my little brother, and I love you.”
His words strike me harder than a blow ever could. Despite our differences, I love my brother fiercely. Defeated, I fall back into my chair. “Leave.”
“Not until I’ve talked some sense into you.”
I retrieve a fountain pen from the top drawer of my desk. “You’ve talked, I’ve listened, there’s nothing else that needs to be said—”
A knock at the door silences our conversation. Christine lingers in the doorway.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she says, pulling at the sleeve of her white blouse. “But a Miss Chelsea Janssen and a Miss Amber Janssen have arrived along with their significant others.”
Chelsea Janssen is the only person of interest. She is the most exquisite creature to have graced this earth. “Excellent. I’ll personally see her in.”
Christine nods once before hurrying away. I round the desk when Malachi captures my wrist. “Who is Chelsea Janssen?”
“No one.”
Malachi studies me for a beat. “From the look on your face I’d say sheissomeone.”
“She’s only here so I can purchase a photograph called ‘Timeless Beauty’.”
Malachi’s expression is unchanged.
“Didn’t you hear Christine when she said Chelsea is spoken for?”
“Perhaps, but that didn’t stop you when it came to Samantha.”
“Get off me,” I seethe, and yank my arm free from his grasp. “She’s a friend of Cole’s. Nothing more, nothing less.”
With a wry smile, Malachi perches himself on the edge of my desk. “Cole, as in the contracts manager who works for our father?”
I fold my arms in front of my chest. “That’s correct.”
“Interesting.” Malachi opens his jacket, pulls out his phone and scrolls through the list of contacts. He stops scrolling when he lands on Cole’s name and hits the call button. Cole picks up on the fourth ring, and Malachi transfers the call to loudspeaker. My brother isn’t one for greetings, and in true Malachi fashion jumps straight to the point. “It would seem Lucian and I are at odds with one another.”
The line goes quiet before Cole speaks. “Hello to you too, and I’m fine, thanks for asking.” Sarcasm drips from his words. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m busy.”
Malachi must sense Cole is on the verge of hanging up, and quickly adds, “It’s in regard to your friend, Chelsea Janssen.”
“Stay away from Chelsea,” Cole warns.
