Chapter Eleven
Megan
Tonight, Mike Holbrook’s estate would host Scott and Kristin’s engagement party. Scott had agreed to formally introduce me to his father. I’d already had doubts about going altogether. The more I saw of Scott’s world, the less I liked it. The opulence. The snobbery. The boasting. The looks down hoity-toity noses I’d received over the past few weeks from Kristin, her friends, and her parents, not to mention the stores or caterers I’d been dealing with.
Was the money worth all this? Added to that was my ever-growing guilt over my undeniable attraction to Scott. He was going to marry Kristin. Not me. Even so, I found it increasingly difficult to pretend I felt nothing when around him. I was honestly wondering how much longer I could fake this non-interested persona. The truth was, Scott was forbidden fruit, but it wasn’t that, that pulled me toward him. It was the memories, the sense of comfort and ease I had always felt around him. His money hadn’t changed that about him. He was still the ‘same old Scott’. And I loved him.
There. I admitted it. I’d always loved him, but it took seeing him, working near him, breathing the scent of his cologne and seeing his smile that brought all those feelings up within me again, even after the passage of time.
On top of that, I felt nervous to see the man my mother accused of driving my father to the brink. I had never met Scott’s father, Mike Holbrook. Sure, I had gone over to Scott’s house a few times while we were in school, but his father had never been around. Coming face to face with him was intimidating. My heart pounded.
Over the past week, I had worked extremely hard to finalize the details of the engagement party. Like any other aspects of Kristin’s personality, nailing her down to one decision over another was a gargantuan task. As far as I was concerned, I was earning every penny that Scott was paying me.
He was paying me in increments, money I deposited into a savings account I shared with my mom. She still disapproved of my working for the Holbrooks, even tangentially, so I didn’t share too much of what occurred on a daily basis with her.
Kristin had told me to purchase an appropriate gown for the engagement party. I had never spent that much money on an entire wardrobe, let alone a single dress. I felt guilty. Sure, I could afford it now, but after living hand-to-mouth for so long, pinching pennies and sticking to only the essentials, spending over four hundred dollars on my imported beaded lace dress, regardless of how beautiful, slimming, and elegant it made me feel was criminal.
The champagne dress with a sweetheart neckline, capped sleeves, and figure-flattering silhouette fit me like a glove. My mother’s eyes had widened when I emerged from my bedroom wearing it, but then she took one look at my guilty expression and laughed. She tried to soothe my conscience by telling me that once in a while, we had to spoil ourselves.
“You look absolutely gorgeous, Megan, and I’m glad you splurged.”
She had already helped fashion my hair into a loosely coiled up-do, an inside-out French braid. I felt tears welling in my eyes and hugged her. Even though we sometimes had our disagreements, and working for the Holbrook family was one of them, I knew that I could always count on my mom. She’d always been the strong one, for both of us.
“You keep your chin up and hold your own,” she advised. “We may not be rich or live in mansions, but we have something even more valuable. We have our love, our compassion, and our support for one another.”
Again, I’d wrapped my mother in a warm hug. “I love you, Mom.”
“I love you too, honey.” She gestured out the door. “I think I just saw a black limo pull up into the parking lot,” she said. “Now you go show them what these two Bryans are made of.”
Now, just moments away from meeting other guests at the party, and possibly Mike Holbrook, my stomach felt twisted into knots. In my mind, Mike Holbrook was a monster. The fact that there didn’t seem to be much love lost between father and son also increased my trepidation, but I needed to see him for myself. Not that I planned on confronting him or anything like that. No, this was Scott’s engagement party. I wouldn’t do anything so crass. Still, I wasn’t sure how I would react seeing Mike Holbrook for the first time since my father had died, nor what even compelled me to want to. Facing the man that had literally destroyed my father and driven him to suicide felt important; maybe someone else to focus my resentment, anger, and even blame instead of my father.
I tried to push unpleasant thoughts, worries, and emotions from my mind as the limo transported me from my simple, one-bedroom apartment to one of the most impressive mansions in an area of Orange County to which I rarely traveled. The houses just got bigger and fancier.
After being inside Scott’s mansion, I didn’t think I would see anything finer. Then his yacht. But his father’s mansion was even more ostentatious, like one of those estates nestled in the middle of acres and acres of green rolling lawns that you see of the British countryside, fit for royalty.
As the limo pulled up in front of a circular driveway and up to the portico—literally, a Greek-inspired and pillared portico—of Mike Holbrook’s mansion, I swallowed. It wasn’t on the ocean like Scott’s home, but it was beautiful. Constructed in an appealing combination of Spanish and Tudor style, the home literally glowed from inside. As the limo pulled up the driveway, we passed a magnificent pond, complete with a marble statue of a woman holding a vase. Beyond, I saw the lights of a tennis court. Hills dotted with scrub oak rose around the property, surrounded by a discrete fence line, fitted with lights specifically arranged to point at various aspects of the property’s exterior. I had no doubt they were fitted with motion-sensor cameras. The place must’ve cost multiple millions. Again, I felt way out of my league. I also shook my head in dismay at the extravagance, the opulence, and the “in-your-face”—almost vulgarity—of such a display of wealth.
The limo pulled up to the steps leading to the front door, which stood open, displaying a foyer filled with people, many of them holding flutes of champagne. I swallowed, stilled my beating heart, and told myself that I would be just fine. At that moment, I saw a familiar figure emerge from inside.
Scott came down the steps, a smile on his face as he lifted a hand to the limo driver and then reached for my door himself. As I exited the vehicle, I felt a flush of heat through my body. My breasts tingled with pleasure as he uttered a low whistle, placed the palm of his hand on the small of my back, and guided me up the stone steps.
“You’re absolutely gorgeous, Megan,” he commented.
“Thank you,” I said, my pulse racing. I felt sure that the sudden flare in his gaze wasn’t merely a trick of the light. The expression thrilled me beyond measure, but I quickly tamped down the feelings. This was his engagement party. I had no right to even contemplate such blissful thoughts that immediately surged through my mind as I too, quickly swept my gaze over Scott’s tuxedo-clad body. The tuxedo was exquisitely tailored, accenting his broad shoulders, narrow waistline, and long legs.
I didn’t even have a chance to feel nervous, standing there next to Scott as he politely introduced me to many of his friends and business associates. I responded to introductions graciously, hoping that I didn’t have to remember any of their names, because there were so many. We wound our way through the throng hovering around the foyer, spilling into a huge sitting room before venturing deeper into the house; a massive living area that branched off into even more rooms. Suddenly, I found myself standing in front of an older gentleman with thick gray hair combed back from a wide forehead, thick neck, broad shoulders, and deep brown eyes that appeared, to me at least, to narrow perceptively as Scott approached with me.
“Dad, I’d like to introduce you to Megan Bryan.”
He glanced down at me, his gaze sober. “Megan, this is my father, Mike Holbrook.”
I glanced at the man standing in front of me, my first thought that he was built much like a boxer, with a slightly crooked nose, rough skin, and several inches shorter than his son. I stared, my insides going cold even though I struggled to maintain my calm expression. He didn’t have horns or a tail, no lizard skin or warts, like I imagined he would. He looked like… to be honest, he looked somewhat like an older, rougher version of Spencer Tracy. Much to my surprise, he glanced at his son, then at me, and then offered a smile, extending his hand.
“Megan Bryan?”
Again, he glanced at his son and then back at me.
“Are you Marty and Anne’s daughter?” he asked, eyebrows lifted in surprise, his smile broadening.
I swallowed, my emotions now a swirl with confusion. No, he wasn’t supposed to be nice to me. He was supposed to… I wanted to hate the man, but the man standing in front of me wasn-t at all what I had expected. “I am,” I murmured as his large, calloused hand wrapped around mine. He stared at me, then glanced at his son, eyebrow slightly raised.
“She’s Kristin’s personal assistant,” he explained. “How’s that for a coincidence? I didn’t even recognize her when she first appeared for the interview.”
Mike Holbrook chuckled. “I can’t imagine why,” he said. “You’ve grown into a fine young woman,” he said. “Last time I saw you, you had braids, braces, and freckles!”
I couldn’t remember ever having met him, but had I? Or, more than likely, he had possibly seen photographs of me. Photographs shown to him by my father, who might have carried school photos in his wallet, like most fathers did, who had killed himself because of this man? I did my best not to let my thoughts go there. My dad had pulled the trigger all by himself. Though hard as it was to know now that the man standing in front of me was a contributing factor to my father’s despair, he didn’t make my father pull the trigger.
“Well, I’m glad you’re here and you’ve been helping Kristin—”
“Scott! Megan!”
All of us turned toward the voice, and I inwardly cringed when I saw Craig advancing. Even so, and despite the fact that I knew I would more than likely be spending much of the evening avoiding Craig’s clammy and not so subtle advances, I was glad for the distraction.
Holbrook excused himself and melted back into the crowd, clapping his big beefy hand on shoulders, murmuring toward the ladies. I watched him until he disappeared, uncertain. I had been expecting to feel a surge of fury, of righteous indignation upon meeting Mike Holbrook, but I hadn’t. That confused me more than anything. What kind of daughter didn’t feel outraged at the man who had pushed her father to take his own life?
I suddenly found myself floating through the crowd, Scott on one side, Craig on the other. Craig softly talked nonstop about some of the people we passed, offering a nod to two in wordless greetings, although I barely paid attention. A champagne flute was pressed into my hand and I held onto it, though I didn’t drink. I looked for Kristin among the partygoers, but didn’t see her. Just as well.
Eventually, Scott disappeared, leaving me in the company of Craig, who took it upon himself to continue introducing me to partygoers here and there before managing to guide me toward a less populated corner of the living room.
“A bit overwhelming, isn’t it?”
I glanced up at him, noticing his sober expression as he eyed the crowd, a slight frown pulling down the corners of his mouth. I nodded. Maybe he wasn’t such an insufferable jerk after all. Of course, no sooner had that thought entered my mind had he tried to wrap his arm around my waist. Already emotional, confused, and wanting to go home, I turned to look up at him. “Craig, can I tell you something?”
He glanced down and grinned. “You can tell me anything you’d like. Discretion is my middle name.”
I nodded. “Fine. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’d appreciate it if you’d quit trying to inadvertently grope me, brush your hands ever closer to my breasts, my waist, and my ass.” His reaction surprised me.
He laughed, a soft, deep throated chuckle. “I’ve been a little too obvious, haven’t I?”
I merely raised my eyebrows. He offered a shrug.
“Can’t blame a guy for trying, can you?”
I shook my head, then turned to eye the mass of humanity swarming through the house. Women in elegant gowns, glittering jewels, and men dressed in formal tuxedos, mostly charcoal to black in the color spectrum, talking amongst themselves, laughing softly, shaking heads, and more than plenty of gossip.
I just wanted to leave. The desire didn’t exactly come out of the blue, but the forcefulness of it did. I didn’t belong there, with those people. I didn’t want to be in the midst of them. I felt flustered and baffled that the anger I had expected upon seeing Mike Holbrook had never emerged. I felt flat, empty, and emotionless. Even more than that, what had I thought I would do? A burst of righteous anger, accusations, pointing a finger at him and accusing him of murder? And these people…these rich people walking around as if they were better than everyone else. It turned my stomach.
“Megan, are you all right?”
The words pulled me from my thoughts, and I glanced up to find Craig watching me with concern.
“You look a bit pale. You want to go outside for a bit of fresh air?”
I opened my mouth to answer, thinking that maybe that was a good idea, when once again, I saw Scott winding his way through the crowd toward us. So handsome in his tuxedo, exuding confidence. Why shouldn’t he? He was in his element. These were his people. This was his engagement party. I had yet to see Kristin, and I didn’t particularly care if I did. Things were running smoothly. My job was done. The planning. Supervising was someone else’s job. She didn’t need me here. Scott didn’t need me here.
Other than the money, I asked myself for the umpteenth time why I had even accepted this position. Even after my mother had told me about Mike Holbrook’s influence in my father’s ultimate decision, I had felt a nearly overwhelming desire to… to do what? Seek some sort of revenge? Closure? There was no such thing as closure. No, I had done it for the money. What made me better than anyone else in this room? I felt disappointment. In myself.
As Scott approached, Craig literally passed me off, but not before turning to look down at me.
“I enjoyed your presence, Megan, and I hope we can see each other again.” A slight pause and a grin. “And I promise, next time I’ll keep my hands to myself.”
I looked up at him and offered him a wan smile. At least the guy knew how to take a hint. As he left, Scott approached and noticed my frown.
“Champagne not to your liking, Megan?”
I abruptly handed the flute of champagne to him. “I made a mistake coming here.” He appeared confused by my words. He rubbed a hand against his chin, and I heard that slight scratching sound it made on stubble. An endearing sound that reminded me of my dad. My heart clenched.
“Why would you say that?”
I swallowed. “It was a mistake, working for you,” I said bluntly. I knew it now, for sure. My greed had prompted me to go against my better instincts. As soon as I saw that the application was for Holbrook, and especially after my mother told me of her objections, I should have let it go. No matter how curious I had been about Scott. I sought to explain. “While I appreciate the opportunity, I’ll be blunt. Dealing with Kristin has demanded about all the patience I can muster.” I gestured with my chin toward the gathering. “I don’t belong here.”
A frown appeared on his brow. “What is it? What’s bothering you?” His eyes widened briefly. “Is it my dad? Do you really think he—”
“Your father is a businessman,” I said, waving my hand. “So was my dad. I’m sure he knew the risks. I’m not sure what went on between those two, but I do know one thing. Your dad didn’t pull the trigger. Mine did.”
“Megan—”
“I’m sorry, Scott, but I can’t do this anymore.” He stepped in front of me, blocking my view of the partygoers.
“Megan, think about it, will you? I’ll give you a raise.”
“It’s not the money, Scott.”
“Then what is it? What’s the matter?”
What was I supposed to tell him? That I still had feelings for him? That I was appalled by his decision to marry a creature like Kristin? That I believed that he was making the biggest mistake of his life? Was I supposed to tell him that I had always had a crush on him, and had yearned for him to notice me? If he was too blind to notice, it wasn’t my problem, but I couldn’t do this anymore.
“Megan, please, don’t make a rash decision,” he said. “I’ll call a cab to take you home. Take a couple days off to think about it, all right?”
I sighed, then finally nodded. While I didn’t think I would change my mind, I had to make a decision. I had been looking forward to the money. Shame on me, but it’s what had compelled me to take the job, over and above the knowledge of the obviously difficult relationship between Mike Holbrook and my father.
Bottom line; what did that say about me? I was no better than anyone else in this room.