CHAPTER EIGHT
Griff was talking with a club member in the study on the ground floor. I stood in the doorway to catch his attention. The man he was speaking with saw me first and smiled. I watched Griff frown at whatever the man said and then look over at me. The frown cleared. He said something and then made his way over to me.
The study was filled with club members at this time but I didn’t see any of them.
Griff’s presence encapsulated the entire room.
I couldn’t tear my eyes off him.
Having admitted my feelings for him out loud meant no longer being able to deny my unbearable attraction to him.
“Anything amiss?” he asked when he reached me.
I winced sheepishly. “We need to talk. Again.”
His expression wiped clean as he placed a hand on my lower back and led me out of the room, across the foyer and into the elevator. We were silent the entire time, me overly aware of his hand on my body, and Griff probably wondering what the hell had happened now.
“Out with it,” he practically barked as soon as we hit the hallway of the penthouse.
I crossed my arms over my chest, not particularly happy about the way he’d spoken to me. “Before I tell you, I’m leading with ‘this isn’t my fault’. And don’t bark orders at me.”
He narrowed his eyes, studying my face. “Have you been crying?”
“No!” I spun around, guiltily hiding my expression as I searched out the mirror above the walnut art deco sideboard. Sure enough there were smudges of mascara at the corner of my eyes. “Amelia made me laugh a lot at the bridal store,” I lied, fixing the smudges.
“Fine. What do we need to talk about?” he asked this time in a neutral tone.
I spun back around and I told him what Amelia confided to me in her car.
Griff bit out a curse and walked away.
Confused I watched him stride down the hallway, wondering if that was the end of the conversation. But then he turned on his heel and marched back to me. “So they know we’re not really a love match but they don’t know why?”
“Yes.”
“Bloody hell.”
“I know this isn’t the point but I think we can trust them.”
He cut me an annoyed look. “I know I can trust them. But the less people who know about this, the better. Fuck.”
“So what now?”
Griff exhaled slowly. “I tell Quentin the truth. He might as well know.” He shot me a look I couldn’t quite work out. “It’ll make things easier actually. At the wedding. If Quentin and Amelia are aware of the truth we can be ourselves.”
“Well in the interest of not keeping any secrets from you, you should know Amelia has romantic aspirations for us anyway.”
To my surprise Griff gave a huff of laughter. “Of course she does.” He stood with his hands on his hips, staring at the floor.
“Griff?”
His eyes moved to me. “You’ve become friends then?”
“Me and Amelia? Yes. She’s been very kind to me.” My lips trembled with emotion and I turned away not wanting him to see it.
“Good,” he said. “I’m glad.”
Not understanding him at all, I just nodded, still unable to look at him.
“Thank you, Scarlett.”
Those words brought my head around without my permission. “For what?”
“For being honest with me. You didn’t have to tell me about Amelia.”
“Believe it or not it’s not in my nature to be dishonest.”
“I know that now. It’s not easy for me but… I’m learning to trust you.” My eyes widened at his words and Griff gave me a wry little smile. “I’ve shocked you.”
“Yes.” The word croaked out. I cleared my throat. “Yes.”
“It’s only fair. You shocked me first.”
I grinned at his teasing, delighted by it, and a warm moment passed between us.
A moment that was disrupted by the sound of his cell ringing in his jacket. He sighed and reached in for it. “You found a dress?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I need to take this. We’ll talk later.”
I nodded, disappointed that he was leaving. I watched him walk down the hall toward his office and then I turned away, worried he’d look over his shoulder and find me gazing longingly after him.
***
Griff had explained we’d spend Friday evening in Martha’s Vineyard at the inn. A private, quiet evening before the wedding. The wedding would take place in the garden of the inn the next afternoon and we’d have dinner there too. Sunday we were going to spend on the beach before we got a flight home that evening.
To distract myself from the butterflies, I worked out what clothes I’d be taking beyond my wedding dress and tried not to overthink the sexy lingerie I picked out too. Amelia had made me choose a trousseau at the bridal store. I had no idea what that was until Amelia explained it was sexy bridal lingerie and nightwear.
I wouldn’t need it of course.
It was all about keeping up appearances… you know, in case anyone decided to look in my luggage.
At least that’s what I kept telling myself.
Once that was done I wandered downstairs to the club library. The club had just opened so there was hardly any members in and none in the library. The room was lined wall-to-wall with bookcases, with the exception of the central wall that housed a fire. It was near summer’s end and it was still too warm for the fire to be lit. I was excited about using this room on cooler days when the club was yet to open. It would be my own private, cozy sanctuary.
Trailing my hands along the titles, I searched for something that might strike my fancy. Griff still hadn’t taken my advice and added more commercial fiction to the collection but I’d work on him.
I was leafing through a dusty edition of A Tale of Two Cities when a throat cleared to my right.
I gave a little jolt of surprise to see a man leaning against a bookcase studying me quizzically. I hadn’t even heard him enter the room.
“Hello.”
His mouth curled up at the corner. “Hey.”
I shut the book and returned it to the shelf. Putting the stranger in his mid-thirties I wondered who he was. A few inches taller than me he was lean and wiry in an athletic way, but the rimless glasses he wore gave him a nerdy edge. But only an edge. His strong, stubbled jawline and lazy smile took him straight to hotville.
He had sandy blonde hair, not unlike Eric’s, and bright blue eyes.
“Are you a member?”
The man pushed off the bookcase and held out a hand. “Bryce McKellan.”
The name sounded familiar. I shook his hand. “Scarlett Jennings.”
“I thought as much.” His lazy smile suddenly seemed less lazy and more uneasy. “I’m new and not quite sure what to do with myself. So obviously I followed the books.”
Relaxing in the presence of an obviously fellow bookworm I chuckled. “Books always put me at ease too.”
“Exactly.” He beamed. “They make anywhere feel like home.”
“Yes… so you’re new to the club?”
Bryce nodded. “Honestly, I’m a kid from Detroit that just happened to be good with computers. Finding myself a member of an exclusive gambling club for the east coast elite is a little weird. It’s not really my thing.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, intrigued. “So why join?”
“Networking,” he answered immediately. “The only way to get further in business is to make connections. You know what they say, it’s not what you know but who you know.”
“Right.” I studied him closely. “Your name is familiar. How do I know you?”
“I created Page One—the online book site.”
My eyes grew round with shock and delight. “No way!”
Bryce laughed. “Yeah, way.”
Page One was the biggest online community for book lovers. They had over sixteen million members. I was practically on it every day. “I’m a librarian. I mean, I’m an actual librarian, but I’m also a Page One Librarian. I got granted access to Librarian Level last year and I have to admit I felt a little drunk on the power.”
Oh my God, I was fangirling.
Bryce laughed harder.
I blushed. “I’m sorry. I’m kind of a book nerd.”
He shook his head, his blue eyes glittering in the light. “Don’t be sorry. I am too.”
“I can’t believe you’re a member here. I feel like I just met royalty.”
Bryce let out a bark of laughter. “You’re killing me. Surely there are more exciting members than me.”
Grinning, I shrugged and then whispered, “Creator of awesome book community wins out over stuffy Boston society any day.”
“Well I’m flattered.”
“So you must have done well for yourself then,” I said, feeling completely at ease in his company.
He looked away and shrugged. “Yeah, I’ve done okay. I just sold the site.” He flicked me a look. “It hasn’t gone public yet.”
“I can keep a secret.”
“Thanks. Anyway, I have all this money and all these business ideas but…”
“You need the connections, too.”
“Yeah.”
“Shouldn’t you be out there instead of in here with me?” I teased.
He tapped his chin in thought. “Hmm. Go out there and try to make friends with a bunch of people who think they’re better than I am or stay in here with a beautiful woman who loves books as much as I do? Tough choice.”
Blushing at his compliment I turned toward the books. “So you’re looking for something to read before working yourself up to the networking part?”
“Pretty much.”
“Anything specific?”
“Ever the helpful librarian, huh?”
I shrugged. “Occupational hazard.”
“Well I’m looking for my favorite book.”
“Which is?”
“Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel García Márquez.”
“Really?” Huh. Not one I would have picked. I scanned the shelves for it though.
“You’re surprised by my choice?” he asked as we searched.
“Maybe.” I sighed. “I don’t see it.”
“Me neither.” We turned to each other and he narrowed his eyes. “You dare to say Love in the Time of Cholera isn’t a great book?”
“The prose is beautiful,” I admitted.
“But?”
“But I hate books that romanticize obsession. Obsession isn’t real love.”
“I agree that it’s definitely a book about obsession but don’t you think Márquez makes that clear?”
“Not really.” I settled happily into the discussion. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d debated books with someone. “I think he portrays a man who obsesses over a childhood sweetheart who continually makes it clear she isn’t interested, only for her to give up after fifty years of being pretty much stalked by the guy. And then Márquez calls it love. So in my opinion what he’s saying is, ‘hey fellas, it’s alright to harass a woman when she says no because what she really means is keep harassing me until I change my mind’. Not a great message. The book is dated.”
Bryce snorted. “No way! That’s not what he portrays at all. Fermina falls in love with Florentino.”
I shook my head. “Even if that’s true, I hate the hero. He sexually pursues a young girl.”
Understanding what scene I was talking about, Bryce grimaced. “Okay, I admit that part is dicey.”
His perturbed expression reminded me of a little boy who had just been told Santa didn’t exist. I threw my head back in laughter.
And that’s how Griff found us.
I immediately felt his presence and turned, my laughter dying at the sight of my fiancé standing in the doorway glowering at us.
Oops.
Was I not supposed to hang out with club members?
“Bryce, welcome.” Griff moved into the room. Unfortunately, his tone didn’t really back up his sentiment. His tone was tight and he sounded pissed.
Crap.
“I was helping Mr. McKellan look for his favorite book.”
“I know every title in this library,” Griff told us something I didn’t know. “Which one is it?”
“Márquez. Love in the Time of Cholera,” Bryce offered quietly. He wouldn’t meet Griff’s eyes.
I couldn’t blame him.
And I was glad he wasn’t looking at Griff because my fiancé sneered at the title, apparently sharing my feelings about the book. “Once listed on the one hundred books everyone must read before they die. I don’t have it.”
“Not a fan?” I asked.
“Are you?” he practically purred at me.
And not in a smoldering way.
In a ‘I’m annoyed as hell with you’ way.
Okay, obviously I was overstepping myself by conversing with a member. Hurt, I tensed. What the hell was he afraid of? That I’d embarrass him with my common roots? “Not particularly. Anyway, I better get back to…” I trailed off because sadly I had nothing to get back to. I gave Bryce a tight smile. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. McKellan.”
“Bryce,” he said, returning my smile. “Please call me Bryce.”
Not responding I shot Griff a wounded look that brought a scowl to his face and I walked out of the library with my head held high.
Every time I could forgive myself for having feelings for the ass, he made me wish I was immune to his convoluted charms.