Crushed (Crystal Brook Billionaires) (54 page)

The women pretend to be mad, but then laugh, all three of their similar wide brimmed sun hats shaking.

Against the house’s outer wall, long tables are spread with white tablecloths. Several catering staff members scurry around, setting up hot pans of pulled pork and sides. At the end of the tables is a full bar attentively manned by another waiter. The only thing making it similar to a barbecue back home is the southern food.

Gaggles of people are spread across the space, bringing the total head count to somewhere around a couple dozen. I twist my hands together and stare, unsure of where to go next. Not one of the people look familiar. Neither Mr. Murakami or his wife are anywhere to be seen. Neither is Simon.

I’m debating just running and finding a bathroom to hide in when someone calls my name.

It’s David. Somehow I missed him standing only a few yards away with two other men. Relieved to have been called on, I walk towards them.

“Hello,” I wave at the three of them. Both of the strangers are about David’s age. They inspect me as I come to a stop only a few feet away.

“Glad you could make it,” David smiles. “Michael, Fred, this is Sydney Andrews. Sydney, Michael runs a shipping business and Fred is an agent at Clear Coast Talent.”

“Nice to meet you,” I say, offering a friendly smile. Both of the men are dressed semi-casually, with bright colored button-ups, but their shiny watches and perfect teeth betray their wealth.

“How do you know the Mulroneys?” one of them, I think Fred, asks.

“She’s Simon’s new assistant,” David says before I can answer.

“Oh.” Fred’s eyebrows furrow a little bit.

Wait for it… wait for it.

There it is — the sympathetic look. He smiles at me reassuringly.

“How is he doing there?” asks Michael, taking a sip from the beer bottle in his hand.

David’s face grows dark. “Well enough.” He glances at me. “I probably shouldn’t speak ill of Sydney’s boss around her.”

I wave my hand. “Don’t mind me. I have my own beef with him.”

The joke hits its mark and they chortle. I laugh along, although mostly at the thought of what they would think if they only knew about me and the butt of their joke.

“There he is now,” Fred says.

My shoulders tense up.

“Simon!” David calls, waving his son over.

I cringe and stare at the grass, waiting for Simon Mulroney’s look of disapproval. Instead, he wears a slight smile as he saunters up. He glances at the men, then brings his gaze back to mine. Our eyes lock and the familiar fire gets lit.

Damn him. He can’t be predictable in the slightest. Maybe that’s part of what turns me on.

“We were just talking about you,” David says.

“Lovely,” Simon answers, the tone of his voice showing he suspects the talk wasn’t very positive. He still looks at me, and my cheeks heat up under his gaze. Isn’t he worried about the other men noticing the way he’s staring?

“Seen your brother around?” David asks.

“Nope.”

David looks to the other two men. “Colt is probably busy doing something useful.”

Simon abruptly takes off, walking towards the house without so much as saying goodbye. An uncomfortable silence follows his departure. I watch him go in, opening the back door and disappearing.

I can’t blame him for leaving. If someone had made such a backhanded remark relating to me, I probably would have screamed at them.

David clears his throat. “He’s always been that way. Sydney, help yourself to a drink. The bartender can make you anything you like.” He winks at me.

I force a smile. Why is he so nice to me and yet so cruel to his own flesh and blood?

“Thanks,” I say. “It was nice to meet you,” I tell the two other men.

Pleased to be relieved, I walk off. At the bar, I ask for a seltzer water. My stomach is rolling in an uncomfortable way and adding alcohol to the mix doesn’t seem like a good idea.

There are lawn chairs stretched out beneath the veranda, and I sit on the edge of one to watch the kids play in the pool. Simon is nowhere to be found.

I don’t blame him. His dad wasn’t exactly welcoming, despite having called him over in the first place.

“Hi,” a female voice says.

I quickly stand up. A brunette woman no more than a few years older than me hovers nearby. Wearing a sundress and a pearl necklace, her attire matches her friendly smile.

I probably looked sad and lonely, so she decided to come over. All I know is she’s an angel to talk to me.

“I’m Whitney Tatum.” She extends a smooth hand connected to a slender wrist. Her shake is flimsy, more like a goldfish flopping around than anything else.

“Sydney Andrews. Nice to meet you.”

She takes a sip of what looks like lemonade. “I saw you talking to David.”

“Yeah, I met him the other day. I work for his son.”

“Oh.” She gives me a knowing look. “Simon.”

“That one,” I agree. “Do you know him?”

“I’ve known the Mulroneys for years. My father worked with David for decades.”

“Ah.” Feeling self-conscious, I take a drink of my seltzer water. I’m slightly regretting coming to this party. This Whitney woman is nice, but I’m already afraid we won’t have much to talk about.

“That Simon is a loose cannon,” she says.

“Yeah,” I agree. “Working for him is always pretty exciting.”

“I would know better than most.”

“Ah,” I say, though I have no clue what she means. Is she trying to let me know she had a romance — or at least a rendezvous — with Simon? And why would she even tell me about such a thing?

I take another drink of water. Maybe she’s referring to some kind of scandal. Engaging in gossip isn’t what I came here to do. I don’t know how to slip out of this conversation, though, so I just smile at Whitney.

She takes a half step towards me and inclines her head in my direction. “Has he ever tried anything on you?” she asks in a low voice.

“No,” I quickly lie. So maybe he didn’t have a fling with Whitney. Maybe he came on to her or even assaulted her.

She looks surprised. “Really? Maybe he’s finally getting his act together.”

Now she’s got me at least mildly interested. “You mean with women?”

She shrugs. “Maybe. It does seem unlikely, though. He’s been with so many of them.”

Ugh.
Now I really am glad more didn’t happen between us. My suspicions were right.

“That girl he was engaged to broke his heart.”

I stare at her. “He told me it ended because he couldn’t handle a relationship.”

Whitney looks at me with great interest. “Is that what he said?”

“Yeah.”

My chest burns. Maybe he lied and only told me that because he’s not interested in
me,
specifically. God, I really am stupid.

People are lining up to get food, but the uncomfortable twisting in my stomach has turned into a wave of nausea.

“Excuse me,” I say. “I just need to run to the restroom.”

I walk past her and find my way to the double doors leading into the house. The large hallway, decorated all in tones of cream and white, stretches down to the front of the house, where a spiral staircase drifts up to the next floor. There’s a little table near the door bearing a pot of some kind of vine and I set my drink down on the edge of it, then take a moment to breathe deeply and remind myself why I came to this party.

It was
not
because of Simon. Therefore, it doesn’t matter what he does or what he did in the past.

Still, I need to take a moment to myself, so I slowly walk down the hall, peeking in through the half open doors. The third door opens into some kind of small library. A man is in it, his back turned to me, his head down.

“Oh, sorry,” I begin.

Simon turns around and my mouth clamps shut.

We look at each other for a few seconds before he speaks. “Come in.”

“I was just looking for the bathroom. I should go.” I say it, and yet I don’t move. My hand stays on the doorknob and his eyes stay trained on my face.

“It seems my father has won you over.”

“Not quite,” I honestly say.

He has somewhat, but now I feel guilty about it. Especially considering the way I’ve seen him with Simon.

“You believe everything he says about me?”

I let go of the doorknob and take a step into the room. The hurt in his words is obvious.

“He hasn’t told me anything about you. Not really. Nothing that’s a fact, anyway.”

“Hm.”

He leans against the small wooden desk in the corner and picks up a glass paperweight from its surface. He lightly tosses it back and forth in his hands. We both watch it fly, catching the light coming in from the side window.

“He wasn’t very nice to you,” I say.

I pause and consider my words.
I guess I’m siding with Simon.

“He never is.”

“Damn,” I hiss. “Why not?”

Simon shrugs. “Ask him.”

I laugh. “Yeah, right. Should I go out there and ask him now, or after dessert?”

He puts the paperweight back down. “He’d probably give you an answer. He’s not ashamed of much, and he seems taken with you.”

I look at the bookshelves, feeling slightly guilty about that. If I
have
won David Mulroney’s affections, it’s purely coincidental. I certainly haven’t done anything to deserve them.

“My father has a lot of expectations,” Simon continues. “For some reason, they only increased once my mother died.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.”

We could almost be two normal people in this moment, having a candid conversation about relationship issues. I tuck some hair behind my ear, thinking it’s about time I slipped away.

“You look nice,” he says, his eyes not leaving my face.

“Don’t.”

He laughs. “Sydney, relax. I’m just complimenting you. It’s not a big deal.”

When my name sounds that good on his lips, every time he opens his mouth it’s a big deal.

“Crystal picked my outfit out for me. I didn’t know what to wear. I thought maybe…” I pause, a little embarrassed to admit it. “I thought maybe it wouldn’t be like a barbecue back home, back in North Carolina.”

He looks at me with interest. “What are they like in North Carolina?”

I shrug. “Well, casual, like this one. Except everything is cooked there, in the yard. I’ve never been to one where having it catered was even an idea. Cooking is part of the experience.”

“Sounds nice.”

“So, where’s your brother?” I ask, trying to get the conversation off of me.

He shrugs. “Somewhere out there being the belle of the ball.”

I grin. “You mean belle of the barbecue.”

He smiles. “Or that. We don’t really get along.”

I run my fingers along the side of the door. “Who
do
you get along with in your family?”

“No one anymore.” He jerks his chin up at me. “What’s that face for?”

“Which face?”

“The one on your head.” His voice is teasing, but soft. “You don’t like something I said.”

Fine. If he’s that intent on my honesty, I might as well offer it.

“Maybe you’d get along a little better with your father and brother if you actually tried. You’re kind of caustic.”

“You’re probably right.”

I’m surprised by his answer. “Really?”

He nods. “Of course you’re right.”

“But let me guess.” I wait until he meets my eyes again. “It’s complicated.”

“Aren’t all relationships?”

“Some more than others.”

“Only because we make them so.” He stares at me, though it’s not like I need any hints to get what he’s referring to.

“What did they do to you that’s so unforgivable?”

He’s silent for a moment. “For one, I spent most of my childhood away at boarding schools. You know who didn’t? Colt. He got to stay here at home because he’s my father’s favorite. How’s that?”

“Jesus,” I breathe. “That sucks.”

There’s an eruption of applause outside and we both look to the window. I take a few steps into the room to push the curtains out of the way. The library is on the side of the house, but the backyard is just visible through the pane. The guests are gathered together in a circle, listening to someone talk.

“Probably a toast for my father,” Simon says, making me jump. He’s inches behind me, and his breath grazes against my neck when he talks. I keep my hand on the curtain, afraid to move — and not wanting to.

A silence follows his statement. The floor creaks and he shifts forward just enough that his chest brushes against my shoulder. I hold my breath, half afraid that if I exhale the moment will pass and he will move away, never to touch me again.

“I’m sorry about everything,” he whispers and I feel his warm breath in my hair.

I shut my eyes. “I know. I believe you. That doesn’t change things.”

Perhaps Simon can’t help but be anything other than the way he is. With all the puzzle pieces of his past falling into place, his personality is starting to make sense. It makes me believe that he’s possibly regretful for doing things the way he has… but I’m not stupid. He still hasn’t promised me anything different.

He chuckles. “I’m surprised you believe me.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” I remain still, staring out at the yard. He doesn’t move either.

When he speaks again, all humor is gone from his tone. “Most people think I’m an awful guy.”

“The way you treat others says everything about who you are.”

“I know,” he says quietly.

“What do you think? Are you an awful person?”

He waits so long to speak I almost think he’s not going to answer. “I don’t know what I am anymore.”

Anymore?

A light touch brushes against my bare arm, and I close my eyes. Just a few seconds. That’s all I’ll allow myself. After that, I’ll push him away and tell him to leave me alone. I’ll go outside and have a barbecue sandwich and talk to a middle aged housewife about vacation spots I can’t afford to visit or which maid service is the best.

Oh, screw it.

I don’t want a barbecue sandwich.

And I don’t want to be with anyone but Simon.

His fingertips fall away. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything, Sydney, but I won’t try anything unless you want it too.”