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“Believe what you want. I need a shower and I’m going to go now.”
Without another word, she flees off stage.
I go after her.
30
BLAKE
My escape from MGM is cut short by his brother. The moment I get off stage, Thomas comes my way and wraps an arm around my shoulders, reserving the same treatment for Gabriel, who apparently was close on my heels. Once he has us in a gentle shoulder-lock he pulls us in, cheering, “You guys, I swear that is the most fun I’ve had at a business conference ever.” Then he turns to me. “Blake, remind me never to make you angry.” Thomas studies me for a second. “What you just did to my brother was harsh. Fair, but savage.” Then he winks at me. “But it’s always a pleasure to see my esteemed, older brother be subjected to a public ass kicking.”
Gabriel shoves Thomas’s arm off. “I always appreciate a reminder of your undying loyalty.”
“As you should.” Thomas fumbles in his pocket with the hand MGM just dropped. I free myself from his grip as well and regain some personal space. The younger Mercer finally finds what he was looking for—his phone—and wiggles it in Gabriel’s face. “I have the whole thing on video, but, as a sign of my ‘loyalty’ I won’t post your public humiliation on any socials.”
At the mention of social media, Gabriel shoots me a panicked stare.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “I don’t have it on video.” I give Thomas a side glance. “We’re not supposed to record any of the sessions or even bring phones to them.”
“Oops.” Thomas covers his mouth with a hand, his eyes twinkling mischievously. Guess the other Mercer brother is not much of a rule follower.
“And even if I did, I wouldn’t post it.” I tilt my head at Gabriel. “Your attempt at taking ballet would be far more entertaining, anyway.”
Gabriel’s eyes widen in panic again, and I smirk—gotcha. “Relax,” I say. “I’m joking. I don’t have that on video either and even if I did, I’d also never use it.”
Thomas follows the exchange with a keen eye. “Wait, wait. Are you telling me he’s mystery guy? My brother?”
I blush furiously; the only saving grace about that livestream blunder was that Gabriel hadn’t seen it. (I knew he hadn’t or he would’ve given me grief about it.) But, of course, Thomas saw it and now I’ve given him the missing information to connect the dots.
MGM, still in the dark, looks at his brother questioningly. “What are you talking about?”
“This!” He produces his phone with the meme of me grabbing and biting.
Gabriel’s scowl deepens. “What am I supposed to be looking at?”
Smug as a pie, Thomas explains, “Her wanting to take a taste out of your delicious buns.” He playfully spanks Gabriel.
Oh, gosh, I want to die.
Gabriel stares at the screen seriously for a few more seconds before he throws his head back, roaring with laughter. When his eyes meet mine again, his grin is ruthless. “If you want to get a taste, all you have to do is ask.”
I’m literally dying of embarrassment and cannot talk. Thankfully, Thomas seems to always have something to say.
“So, ballet, huh?” He mercifully puts away the phone and slaps his thighs. “Ooooh, this day is getting better and better. Now I know what to put on our Christmas cards this year. Gabriello, would you prefer to wear a red or golden tutu for the photo shoot?”
“Keep being a smart-ass and you’ll be wearing no pants to the shoot if I have to drag you there roped up in just your underwear.”
Thomas pretends to ponder the threat, then shrugs. “I guess the ladies would appreciate it, and Dad would be thrilled his legacy is assured: elder son in a tutu and me in underwear bondage.”
Despite not wanting to, witnessing their brotherly bantering is endearing. It shows me a less intimidating, more human, side of Gabriel, which is so distant from the arrogant dude who marched into my office that first time. Which makes him so much more endearing. Which is bad. So very dangerous. Unwise.
I step back. “Gabriel, Thomas, it’s been a pleasure, but I really need to go take a shower now.” I point both my thumbs over my shoulders in the general direction of the exit. “I’ll see you around.”
“Not so fast.” Thomas takes a hold of my hand and covers it with both of his. I stare at our joined hands and am not sure what to make of it. Gabriel has a determined look on his face as he glares at his brother in a way that implies, let her hands go or I’ll whack you.
“Blake,” Thomas continues, pretending to be, or really being oblivious to the havoc his actions are making. “Please allow me to invite you to dine with us tonight.”
I regain control of my limbs, freeing my hands from Thomas’s grip, and frown.
