“Please.” Victoria raised her glass.
“Brice, darling, I understand that you might be a little apprehensive about having Brooke around again, but we need her help. Maybe you two can work out your issues,” she replied, her smile faint.
Brice loved his aunt’s sweet spirit and he appreciated her glass-half-full approach when it came to most things, but this time he had to stand firm. Working with Brooke would be more difficult than anyone seemed to understand. Brice puffed out his chest and went stone-faced.
“If she comes back, I won’t work with her,” he announced.
Victoria sat forward, placed her drink on the table and leered at her son. The room’s temperature seemed to drop several degrees. “What does that mean exactly? Are you resigning from your role as CFO?”
“What?” Brice’s forehead creased. He didn’t know what he meant, but it certainly wasn’t that.
“Of course not, Mother,” COO Alexander quickly said, scowling at Brice, who stood in silence with his hands in his pockets. “Everyone just needs to calm down and take a breather.”
Victoria’s cell phone rang. She removed the phone from her Hermès bag and answered it with the brief statement, “I’ll be down in a moment.” Victoria rose from her seat and this time everyone followed suit, except her sister, who remained in her chair. Victoria returned her phone to her purse, leaned over and kissed her sister on the cheek.
“Have a nice evening, Victoria,” Elizabeth said with a half-smile.
“I always do. I trust you can—”
“I’ll take care of everything here,” Elizabeth promised.
Victoria offered Alexander her cheek, which he kissed before saying, “Everything’s going to be fine.”
Victoria moved to Kristen Kingsley, Elizabeth’s only daughter and their company’s vice president of general operations. “I expect those files on my desk first thing in the morning,” she instructed before giving her a hug.
“Yes, ma’am,” Kristen eagerly replied.
Victoria sent Travis, Kristen’s twin brother and one of two Kingsley heirs that didn’t work for the company, an air-kiss across the table. “See your mother home safely before you head back to that ranch of yours.”
“Always,” he promised.
When Victoria finally made her way to the door where Brice was now standing, she placed her right hand on his chest and stared up at him. Brice’s eyes scanned her face for any signs of what was coming but she stood stone-faced.
“The next time you threaten me with not doing your job, you had better have a letter of resignation to offer—otherwise, I will fire you, son. Understand?” Brice gave a quick nod. “Good.” Victoria dropped her hand, offered her cheek, which he kissed, and left the room.
“Dammit, Brice, what the hell’s wrong with you? You’re twenty-eight, not a goddamn impulsive eighteen-year-old,” Alexander scolded his brother, making his way over to the bar.
“Language,” Elizabeth stated, taking a sip of her wine.
“Pour me one too, Alexander,” Travis requested, taking his seat. “Aunt Victoria is an OG and she doesn’t play. I think she really would’ve fired you,” he concluded.
“I would have,” Kristen offered, collecting her things.
“Of course you would have, sis. You’re just like her.”
Elizabeth gave the evil eye to her bickering children. “That’s enough, you two.”
Brice leaned forward against the chair he’d long ago abandoned and dropped his head. He knew his brother was right; he was being impulsive. Brice couldn’t believe how quickly things had turned with his mother, all because of the emotions Brooke invoked that he still couldn’t control. How was he going to handle working day-in and day-out with her?
“Mother, I’ll take you home,” Kristen offered. “Let these two see if they can talk some sense into Brice.”
Elizabeth rose from her chair and smoothed out her green flower-print dress. “That’s a great idea, darling, and maybe on our way home I can convince you to add a little more color to your wardrobe.” She scrunched up her face at the black pantsuit Kristen wore.
“Black is a color, Mother.”
“No, it’s not. Black is a statement.”
“It’s in the coloring box,” Kristen said sarcastically. “What about Travis? He’s wearing black jeans and a black shirt. I don’t hear you threatening him with a lesson on the coloring wheel.”
“We’re not talking about your brother,” she declared, hugging and kissing her son and nephew before walking out of the conference room with her daughter on her heels.
Brice dropped down in his chair and accepted the glass his brother offered. “Thanks, A.”
“You okay?” Alexander stood, swirling his drink in his glass.
“Not really,” Brice admitted.
“Well, you need to do whatever you have to so you can get okay. You have got to pull it together. Another performance like that one and I’ll fire you myself,” he said, tossing back his drink.
Brice mirrored his brother’s actions, allowing the gold liquid to slide down his throat, hoping it would burn some sense into him. “I will. I guess it was just the shock of knowing no matter what I did or said, I couldn’t get my wife to even talk to me, yet my mother was able to convince her to come back to work for us. It’s as if nothing ever happened between us, let alone a marriage.”
“You know I understand how you feel, but you have to rise above it. You have a job to do,” Alexander reminded Brice.
“You know what you need.” Travis smiled like he had a secret he was dying to spill.
“What’s that?” Brice knew he shouldn’t ask, but at this point, he needed all the help he could get.
“You should find a bar and look for something soft and sweet to spend the night with. Lose yourself in someone for a while before you have to see Brooke again.” Travis shrugged. “It couldn’t hurt.”
The mere idea of being with another woman sexually was making his stomach hurt. He had just given himself permission to have drinks with another woman. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”
“Let’s go, Travis. He needs a minute,” Alexander observed.
Brice leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. His mind flashed back to the last time he had seen Brooke: after he’d returned home from getting her favorite meal, only to find that she’d left him via a short note. It had taken Brice nearly two months to convince Eddie, the husband of Brooke’s best friend, to help him in his efforts to find his wife. When he found out she was in Paris, he flew over to try and figure out what was really going on. He hadn’t bought her explanation that they had gotten married too fast and that she wasn’t ready to settle down. Brooke’s actions during their six-month marriage told him the very opposite. They had even started having discussions about starting a family.
Brice remembered exactly how he’d felt the day he walked into the restaurant of the Hôtel Barrière Le Fouque along the Champs-élysées, one of Paris’s most historic locations. The café was decorated with studio style portraits of popular actors and directors from several decades. The tables, accompanied by red velvet chairs, were dressed in fine white linen, expensive porcelain china and crystal. The room screamed romance and he knew Brooke would have loved it.
When Brice had spotted Brooke sitting at a table, holding up her head with her left hand, gazing into the eyes of another man he hadn’t recognized who was caressing