Bentley grinned. “Imagine how they dance when they’re drunk.”
“Are you under the impression they’re sober?”
“Either way. Bad choices.”
“Oh, shit!” Brock choked on his third drink. “They just saw Grandfather.”
Brock prayed to God that his grandfather wouldn’t send the girls his way. Time slowed as Grandfather turned, made a face, and dismissed them.
Both Brock and Bentley exhaled loudly.
“Drink,” Bentley encouraged. “Maybe the caterpillars will turn into butterflies. Whiskey encourages these things.”
“I’m only taking this drink.” He gripped it between his hands. How many had he just downed, anyway? Four? Five? “Because I see no other option. And believe me, I’ve done nothing but try to think of a way out of this.”
Bentley crossed his arms. “What about no?”
“No.” Brock shook his head vehemently.
“You have no problem saying it to me or Brant on a daily basis, yet the minute Grandfather turns his furry eyebrows in your direction you turn into this…robot.”
Brock stiffened. “Robot? Hardly.” He’d been called worse. But that was beside the point.
His brothers didn’t get it; they didn’t understand the power behind a simple word, and how it was Brock’s fault that their parents were dead in the first place.
Because the first time he’d said that word had been after an argument with his father.
No, he’d said. No. No. No.
The next day both of his parents were dead.
His hands shook with the memory, as if re-living it all over again.
“All right, then. So you said yes because you want to settle down? With a woman of Grandfather’s choosing?” Bentley chuckled. “The last woman he sent your way had the longest fingernails I’d ever seen.” He shuddered. “I had at least three nightmares, all of them including her nails impaling my…well, let’s just say I woke up in a cold sweat.”
Brock shrugged, and his stomach warmed as the whiskey finally began to take effect. “She wasn’t so bad.”
“Her name was Pearl.”
Brock shifted uncomfortably on his feet while Bentley gave him a pointed stare. “Just march up to him and say ‘thanks for the concern, but I nominate Brant as tribute.’”
Smirking, Brock glanced across the room just in time to see Brant press some random woman against the wall and kiss down her neck. “He seems occupied.”
“When is he not occupied? Though the night is a bit young for him to start his sexual prowl.”
“True.”
The music got louder, seeming to rise along with Brock’s discomfort. “Maybe, one more drink, and then…”
Bentley tried to hand him yet another drink, this time, champagne. Brock refused it. “And then, you and grandfather talk.”
“Yes.” Brock frowned. “I mean no.”
“Grow a pair of balls, brother. Your choice is either man up…” He pointed to the two girls dancing with mindless abandon on the floor. The girl in the black dress bent over, giving them a hellish view of her thong. Both Brock and Bentley shuddered and looked away. “Or it’s possible that the vision before you could be your future.”
“I’ll talk to him,” he lied.
“Good man.” Bentley sighed. “Now that my single good deed of the year is done, I’m off to find the first woman to catch my eye, one who possesses all her teeth and is of sound mind. I’m not picky; I just need sex.”
“Shocking that you get so much ass with that attitude.”
“That hurts.” Bentley tapped his chest. “Right here.” And then he smirked. “But not as much as right here.” He grabbed his crotch with a jerk, then laughed and walked off.
Watching Bentley strut across the room like a rooster, Brock tightened his hold on his glass. Both of his brothers were free.
While he lived in a prison of his own making. With gold bars. And a mirror where his grandfather stared back at him.
He returned his attention to his grandfather and the group of people who had crowded around him. His vision was starting to blur, but only because of the lights. He could easily hold more alcohol than most.
Then, in a sudden flurry of screaming, a woman was pushed onto the dance floor right into the two crazy women with even crazier lipstick.
A catfight broke out as one of the women ripped at the newcomer’s dress almost hard enough to pull the entire thing off and leave her flashing half the club. The girl pressed her hands to her chest while the woman standing on her other side tugged at the girl’s hair.
The hell?
How drunk were they?
He started toward the dance floor to pull them apart when suddenly the crowd parted.
The girl glanced up at him with wide eyes.
He stopped walking.
Breathing.
It wasn’t her face…her lips… It wasn’t the way her body looked poured into her tight black dress.
No, it was her eyes.
As if she was begging for someone to save her.
Protectiveness slammed into him and he shoved his body through the remaining people watching the scene, and picked the girl up into his arms.
Chapter Four
Jane was pressed so tightly against the wall she would have sworn her body was starting to blend into the wallpaper. Most people didn’t give her a second glance. Then again, she wouldn’t give herself a second glance either.