Читать книгу The Beaumont Brothers - Sarah M. Anderson - Страница 14

Seven

Her hair fixed into a sleek twist, Serena stood in her bedroom in her bathrobe and stared at the gowns like they were menacing her. All three were hung on her closet door.

With the price tags still on them.

Somehow, she’d managed to avoid looking at the tags in the store. The fabulous Mario had probably been working overtime to keep them hidden from her.

She had tens of thousands of dollars worth of gowns. Hanging in her house. Not counting the “necessary accessories.”

The one she wanted to wear—the one-shoulder, cornflower blue dress that paired well with the long, dangly earrings? That one, on sale, cost as much as a used car. On sale! And the earrings? Sapphires. Of course.

I can’t do this, she decided. This was not her world and she did not belong. Why Chadwick insisted on dressing her up and parading her around was beyond her.

She’d return the dresses and go back to being frugal Serena Chase, loyal assistant. That was the only rational thing to do.

Then her phone buzzed. For a horrifying second, she was afraid it was Neil, afraid that he’d come to his senses and wanted to talk. Wanted to see her again. Wanted frugal, loyal Serena back.

Just because she was trying not to fall head over heels for Chadwick didn’t mean she wanted Neil.

She picked up her phone—it was a text from Chadwick.

On my way. Can’t wait to see you.

Her heart began to race. Would he wear a suit like he usually did? Would he look stiff and formal or...would he be relaxed? Would he look at her with that gleam in his eye—the one that made her think of things like towels and showers and hot, forbidden kisses?

She should return these things. All of them.

She slipped the blue dress off the hanger, letting the fabric slide between her fingers. On the other hand...what would one night hurt? Hadn’t she always dreamed about living it up? Wasn’t that why she’d always gone to the galas before? It was a glimpse into a world that she longed to be a part of—a world where no one went hungry or wore cast-off clothing or moved in the middle of the night because they couldn’t make rent?

Wasn’t Chadwick giving her exactly what she wanted?

Why shouldn’t she enjoy it? Just for the night?

Fine, she decided, slipping into the dress. One night. One single night where she wasn’t Serena Chase, hardworking employee always running away from poverty. For one glorious evening, she would be Serena Chase, queen amongst women. She would be escorted by a man who wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off her—a man who made her feel beautiful.

If she ever saw the fabulous Mario again, she was going to hug that man.

She dressed carefully. She felt like she was going too slowly, but she wasn’t about to rush and accidentally pop a seam on such an expensive dress. She decided to go with a bolder eye, so she spent more time putting on eyeliner and mascara than she had in the last month.

She’d barely gotten her understated lipstick into the tiny purse that Mario had put with this dress—even though it was a golden yellow—when she heard the knock on the door. “One moment!” she yelled, as she grabbed the yellow heels that had arrived with everything else.

Then she took a moment to breathe. She looked good. She felt good. She was going to enjoy tonight or else. Tomorrow she could go back to being pregnant and frugal and all those other things.

Not tonight. Tonight was hers. Hers and Chadwick’s.

She opened the door and felt her jaw drop.

He’d chosen a tux. And a dozen red roses.

“Oh,” she managed to get out. The tux was exquisitely cut—probably custom-made.

He looked over the top of the roses. “I was hoping you’d pick that one. I brought these for you.” He held the flowers out to her and she saw he had a matching rose boutonnière in his lapel.

She took the roses as he leaned forward. “You look amazing,” he whispered in her ear.

Then he kissed her cheek. One hand slid behind her back, gripping her just above her hip. “Simply amazing,” he repeated, and she felt the heat from his body warm hers from the inside out.

They didn’t have to go anywhere. She could pull him inside and they could spend the night wrapped around each other. It would be perfectly fine because they weren’t at work. As long as they weren’t in the office, they could do whatever they wanted.

And he was what she wanted to do.

No. No! She could not let him seduce her. She could not let herself be seduced. At least, not that easily. This was a business-related event. They were still on the clock.

Then he kissed her again, just below the dangly earring, and she knew she was in trouble. She had to do something. Anything.

“I’m pregnant,” she blurted out. Immediately her face flushed hot. And not the good kind of hot, either. But that was exactly what she’d needed to do to slam on the brakes. Pregnant women were simply not amazing. Her body was crazy and her hormones were crazier and that had to be the only reason she was lusting after her boss this much.

Thank heavens, Chadwick pulled back. But he didn’t pull away, damn him. He leaned his forehead against hers and said, “In all these years, Serena, I’ve never seen you more radiant. You’ve always been so pretty, but now...pregnant or not, you are the most beautiful woman in the world.”

She wanted to tell him he was full of it—not only was she not the most beautiful woman in the world, but she didn’t crack the top one hundred in Denver. She was plain and curvy and wore suits. Nothing beautiful about that.

But he slipped his hand over her hip and down her belly, his hand rubbing small circles just above the top of her panties. “This,” he said, his voice low and serious and intent as his fingers spread out to cover her stomach, “just makes you better. I can’t control myself around you anymore and I don’t think I want to.” As he said it, his hand circled lower. The tips of his fingers crossed over the demarcated line of her panties and dipped down.

The warmth from his touch focused heat in her belly—and lower. A weight—heavy and demanding and pulsing—pounded between her thighs. She didn’t want him to stop. She wanted him to keep going until he was pressing against the part of her that was heaviest. To feel his touch explore her body. To make her his.

If she didn’t know him, she’d say he was feeding her a line of bull a mile long. But Chadwick didn’t BS people. He didn’t tell them what they wanted to hear. He told them the truth.

He told her the truth.

Which only left one question.

Now that she knew the truth, what would she do with it?

* * *

The absolute last place Chadwick wanted to be was at this restaurant. The only possible exception to that statement was the gala later. He didn’t want to be at either one. He wanted to go back to Serena’s place—hell, this restaurant was in a hotel, he could have a room in less than twenty minutes—and get her out of that dress. He wanted to lay her down and show her exactly how little he could control himself around her.

Instead, he was sitting across from Serena in one of the best restaurants in all of Denver. Since they’d left her apartment, Serena had been...quiet. He’d expected her to push back against dinner like she’d pushed back against the gown that looked so good on her, but she hadn’t. Which was not a bad thing—she’d been gracious and perfectly well-mannered, as he knew she would be—but he didn’t know what to talk about. Discussing work was both boring and stressful. Even though this was supposed to be a business dinner, he didn’t want to talk about losing the company.

Given how she’d reacted to him touching her stomach—soft and gently rounded beneath the flowing dress—he didn’t think making small talk about her pregnancy was exactly the way to go, either. That wasn’t making her feel beautiful. At least, he didn’t think so. He was pretty sure if they talked about her pregnancy, they’d wind up talking about Neil, and he didn’t want to think about that jerk. Not tonight.

Chadwick’s divorce was out, too. Chadwick knew talking about exes and soon-to-be-exes at dinner simply wasn’t done.

And there was the part where he’d basically professed how he felt about her. Kind of hard to do the chitchat thing after that. Because doing the chitchat thing seemed like it would minimize what he’d said.

He didn’t want to do that.

But he didn’t know what else to talk about. For one of the few times in his life, he wished his brother Phillip was there. Well, he didn’t—Phillip would hit on Serena mercilessly, not because he had feelings for her but because she was female. He didn’t want Phillip anywhere near Serena.

Still, Phillip was good at filling the silence. He had an endless supply of interesting stories about interesting celebrities he’d met at parties and clubs. If anyone could find something to talk about, it’d be his brother.

But that wasn’t Chadwick’s life. He didn’t jet around making headlines. He worked. He went to the office, ran, showered, worked, worked some more and then went home. Even on the weekends, he usually logged in. Running a corporation took most of his time—he probably worked a hundred hours a week.

But that’s what it took to run a major corporation. For so long, he’d done what was expected of him—what his father had expected of him. The only thing that mattered was the company.

Chadwick looked at Serena. She was sitting across from him, her hands in her lap, her eyes wide as she looked around the room. This level of luxury was normal for him—but it was fun seeing things through her eyes.

It was fun being with her. She made him want to think about something other than work—and given the situation, he was grateful for that alone. But what he felt went way beyond simple gratitude.

For the first time in his adult life—maybe longer—he was looking at someone who meant more to him than the brewery did.

That realization scared the hell out of him. Because, really—who was he if he wasn’t Chadwick Beaumont, the fourth-generation Beaumont to run the brewery? That was who he’d been raised to be. Just like his father had wanted, Chadwick had always put the brewery first.

But now...things were changing. He didn’t know how much longer he’d have the brewery. Even if they fended off this takeover, there might be another. The company’s position had been weakened.

Funny, though—he felt stronger after this week with Serena.

Still, he had to say something. He hadn’t asked her to dinner just to stare at her. “Are you doing all right?”

“Fine,” she answered, breathlessly. She did look fine. Her eyes were bright and she had a small, slightly stunned smile on her face. “This place is just so...fancy! I’m afraid I’m going to use the wrong fork.”

He felt himself relax a bit. Even though she looked like a million dollars, she was still the same Serena.

His.

No. He pushed that thought away as soon as it cropped up. She was not his—she was only his assistant. That was the extent of his claim to her. “Your parents never dressed you up and took you out to eat at a place like this just for fun?”

“Ah, no.” A furious blush raced up her cheeks.

“Really? Not even for a special event?”

That happened a lot. He’d be eating some place nice—some place like this—and a family with kids who had no business being in a five-star restaurant would come in, the boys yanking on the necks of their ties and tipping over the drinks, the girls being extra fussy over the food. He’d sort of assumed that all middle-class people did something like that once or twice.

She looked up at him, defiance flashing in her eyes. The same defiance that had her refusing dresses. He liked it on her—liked that she didn’t always bow and scrape to him just because he was Chadwick Beaumont.

“Did your parents ever put you in rags and take you to a food pantry just for fun?”

“What?”

“Because that’s where we went ‘out to eat.’ The food pantry.” As quickly as it had come, the defiance faded, leaving her looking embarrassed. She studied her silverware setting. “Sorry. I don’t usually tell people that. Forget I said anything.”

He stared at her, his mouth open. Had she really just said...the food pantry? She’d mentioned that her family had gone through a few financial troubles but—

“You picked the food bank for this year’s charity.”

“Yes.” She continued to inspect the flatware, everything about her closed off.

This wasn’t the smooth, flowing conversation he’d wanted. But this felt more important. “Tell me about it.”

“Not much to tell.” Her chin got even lower. “Poverty is not a bowl full of cherries.”

“What happened to your parents?” Not that his parents had particularly loved him—or even liked him—but he’d never wanted for anything. He couldn’t imagine how parents could let that happen to their child.

“Nothing. It’s just that...Joe and Shelia Chase did everything to a fault. They still do. They’re loyal to a fault, forgiving to a fault—generous to a fault. If you need twenty bucks, they’ll give you the last twenty they have in the bank and then not have enough to buy dinner or get the bus home. My dad’s a janitor.”

At this, a flush of embarrassment crept over her. But it didn’t stop her. “He’ll give you the shirt off his back—not that you’d want it, but he would. He’s the guy who always stops when he sees someone on the side of the road with a flat tire, and helps the person change it. But he gets taken by every stupid swindle, every scam. Mom’s not much better. She’s been a waitress for decades. Never tried to get a better job because she was so loyal to the diner owners. They hired her when she was fifteen. Whenever Dad got fired, we lived on her tips. Which turns out to not be enough for a family of three.”

There was so much hurt in her voice that suddenly he was furious with her parents, no matter how kind or loyal they were. “They had jobs—but you still had to go to the food pantry?”

“Don’t get me wrong. They love me. They love each other...but they acted as if money were this unknown force that they had no power over, like the rain. Sometimes, it would rain. And sometimes—most of the time—it wouldn’t. Money flows into and out of our lives independent of anything we do. That’s what they thought. Still think.”

He’d never questioned having money, just because there had always been so much of it. Who had to worry about their next meal? Not the Beaumonts, that was for damn sure. But he still worked hard for his fortune.

Serena went on, “They had love, Mom always said. So who needed cars that ran or health insurance or a place to live not crawling with bugs? Not them.” Then she looked up at him, her dark brown eyes blazing. “But I do. I want more than that.”

He sat there, fully aware his mouth had dropped open in shock, but completely unable to get it shut. Finally, he got out, “I had no idea.”

She held his gaze. He could see her wavering. “No one does. I don’t talk about it. I wanted you to look at me for what I am, not what I was. I don’t want anyone to look at me and see a welfare case.”

He couldn’t blame her for that. If she’d walked into the job interview acting as if he owed her the position because she’d been on food stamps, he wouldn’t have hired her. But she hadn’t. She’d never played the sympathy card, not once.

“Did Neil know?” Not that he wanted to bring Neil into this.

“Yes. I moved in with him partly because he offered to cover the rent until I could pay my share. I don’t think...I don’t think he ever really forgot what I’d been. But he was stable. So I stayed.” Suddenly, she seemed tired. “I appreciate the dresses and the dinner, Chadwick—I really do. But there were years where my folks didn’t clear half of what you paid. To just buy dresses for that much...”

Like a bolt out of the blue, he understood Serena in a way he wasn’t sure he’d ever understood another person. She was kind and she was loyal—not to a fault, not at the sacrifice of her own well-being—but those were traits that he’d always admired in her. “Why did you pick the brewery?”

She didn’t look away from him this time. Instead, she leaned forward, a new zeal in her eyes. “I had internship offers at a couple of other places, but I looked at the employee turnover, the benefits—how happy the workers were. I couldn’t bear the thought of changing jobs every other year. What if I never got another one? What if I couldn’t take care of myself? The brewery had all these workers that had been there for thirty, forty years—entire careers. It’s been in your family for so long...it just seemed like a stable place. That’s all I wanted.”

And now that was in danger. He wasn’t happy about possibly failing to keep the company in family hands, but he had a personal fortune to fall back on. He’d been worried about the workers, of course—but Serena brought it home for him in a new way.

Then she looked up at him through her dark lashes. “At least, that’s all I thought I wanted.”

Desire hit him low and hard, a precision sledgehammer that drove a spike of need up into his gut. Because, unlike Helen and unlike his mother, he knew that Serena wasn’t talking about the gowns or the jewels or the fancy dinner.

She was talking about him.

He couldn’t picture the glamorous, refined woman sitting across from him wearing rags and standing in line at a food pantry. And he didn’t have to. That was one of the great things about being wealthy. “I promised you I wouldn’t fail you, Serena. I keep my promises.” Even if he lost the company—if he failed his father—he wouldn’t leave Serena in a position in which welfare was her only choice.

She leaned back, dropping her gaze again. Like she’d just realized she’d gone too far and was trying to backtrack. “I know. But I’m not your responsibility. I’m just an employee.”

“The hell you are.” The words were out a little faster than he wanted them to be, but what was the point of pretending anymore? He hadn’t lied earlier. Something about her had moved him beyond his normal restraint. She was so much more than an employee.

Her cheeks took on that pale pink blush that only made her more beautiful. Her mouth opened and she looked like she was about to argue with him when the waiter came up. When the man left with their orders—filet mignon for him, lobster for her—Chadwick looked at her. “Tell me about you.”

She eyed him with open suspicion.

He held up his hands in surrender. “I swear it won’t have any bearing on how I treat you. I’ll still want to buy you pretty things and take you to dinner and have you on my arm at a gala.” Because that’s where you belong, his mind finished for him.

On his arm, in his bed—in his life.

She didn’t answer at first, so he leaned forward and dropped his voice. “Do you trust me when I say I’ll never use it against you?”

She tucked her lower lip up under her teeth. It shouldn’t look so sexy, but on her it did. Everything did.

“Prove it.”

Oh, yeah, she was challenging him. But it didn’t feel like a battle of wills.

He didn’t hesitate. “My dad beat me. Once, with a belt.” He kept his voice low, so no one could hear, but it didn’t matter. The words ripped themselves out of a place deep inside of his chest.

Her eyes went wide with shock and she covered her open mouth with her hand. It hurt to look at her, so he closed his eyes.

But that was a mistake. He could see his father standing over him, that nice Italian leather belt in his hand, buckle out—screaming about how Chadwick had gotten a C on a math test. He heard the belt whistle through the air, felt the buckle cut into his back. Felt the blood start to run down his side as the belt swung again—all because Chadwick had messed up how to subtract fractions. Future CEOs knew how to do math, Hardwick had reminded him again and again.

That’s all Chadwick had ever been—future CEO of Beaumont Brewery. He’d been eleven. It was the only time Hardwick Beaumont had ever left a mark on him, but it was a hell of a mark. He still had the scar.

It was all such a long time ago. Like it had been part of a different life. He thought he’d buried that memory with his father, but it was still there, and it still had the capacity to cause him pain. He’d spent his entire life trying to do what his father wanted, trying to avoid another beating, but what had that gotten him? A failed marriage and a company that was about to be sold out from under him.

Hardwick couldn’t hurt him now.

He opened his eyes and looked at Serena. Her face was pale and there was a certain measure of horror in her eyes, but she wasn’t looking at him like he feared she would—like she’d forgotten about the man he was now and only saw a bleeding little boy.

Just like he saw a woman he trusted completely, and not a little girl who ate at food pantries.

He kept going. “When I didn’t measure up to expectations. As far as I know, he never hit any of his other kids. Just me. He broke my toys, sent my friends away and locked me in my room, all because I had to be the perfect Beaumont to run his company.”

“How...how could he do that?”

“I was never his son. Just his employee.” The words tasted bitter, but they were the unvarnished truth. “And, like you said, I don’t tell people about it. Not even Helen. Because I don’t want people to look at me with pity.”

But he’d told her. Because he knew she wouldn’t hold it against him. Helen would have. Every time they fought, she would have thrown that back in his face because she thought she could use his past to control him.

Serena wouldn’t manipulate him like that. And he wouldn’t do that to her.

“So,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “tell me about it.”

She nodded. Her face was still pale, but she understood what he was saying. She understood him. “Which part?”

“All of it.”

So she did.