004

~~Brandon~~

I never attended events with partners.

That rule was there for a reason, and has never been bent. Not for convenience, not for appearances, not for pressure. 

It kept expectations low and helped me avoid the whole female drama. You take one to an important gathering, and suddenly, you guys become inevitable. I would've known, I'd learned the hard—and uncomfortable—way. Plus, people speculated less when you gave them nothing to work with.

Which was why I knew something was wrong the moment my grandfather summoned me privately.

Victor poured two glasses of whiskey and handed me one.

“You’ll escort her tomorrow,” he said as soon as I met him in his home office.

He'd sprung up the information on me minutes ago, and he expected me to be fine with it so easily. Meanwhile, he knew my golden rule. 

Luckily, I knew how to let only the emotions I wanted to show on my face. As much as it annoyed me, it wasn't Joan's fault my grandad felt entitled enough to think he could control my actions. 

I didn’t take the glass. “No.”

Victor didn’t react. 

“She’s capable of attending alone,” I continued evenly. “And she doesn’t need my presence to be taken seriously.”

Victor finally looked at me then. “She does.”

I exhaled through my mouth. “I don't want to be entangled in family drama.”

Victor had told me enough of her backstory over the years, and I knew enough about her before we even met, though the information dump had served me no purpose. 

Victor snorted. "Your whole family is drama, boy." 

That was true. 

It was a good thing I followed Victor's step and stayed as far away from family as I could. 

He nodded at the glass. "It's rude to refuse a drink." 

“I’ve never brought anyone to the annual ball,” I said, taking the glass from the table, even though I wasn't planning to drink it. “You know that.”

“Yes,” Victor replied calmly. “Which is why your attendance with her will be noticed.”

It took a moment of silence, but it finally clicked, why he kept telling me things about her which I hadn't needed to know. I finally understood why he was insistent. I didn't know why it took me so long. 

I set the glass down untouched. “You’re forcing this. You want us together, don't you?”

Victor met my gaze, unflinching. “Yes. Guiding, not forcing. I'm guiding it.”

I almost smiled. Almost.

My grandfather was a cunning, cunning old man. 

“Put it however you like,” I said. “This is coercion.”

Victor's eyes gleamed in delight. “Do you remember the Zurich acquisition?”

I stiffened.

“You were outmaneuvered,” he continued. “Not because you lacked foresight, but because you underestimated desperation.”

I didn’t respond.

“I intervened.” 

My jaw tightened. “You promised that would never be leverage.”

“And it wouldn’t be,” he said simply. “If you weren’t being deliberately obtuse.”

There it was.

Blackmail dressed as mentorship. Sometimes I wondered how he was with his business partners—enemies, in fact, if it was this bad with his own blood. 

“But that's beside the point,” Victor added, waving a hand aside. “Yes, I expect you to walk in with her, and I expect it to be the talk of the event. And yes—eventually—I expect marriage.”

The word landed heavily between us.

“I won’t marry on command, grandfather,” I said flatly. If I were a girl, I'd have rolled my eyes at him. I was seriously fighting the urge to. 

Victor nodded once. “You won’t.”

That surprised me.

“She will choose when she is ready.” He shrugged. 

I frowned. “And if she never is?”

Victor’s mouth curved faintly. “She will be.”

“She doesn’t know this,” I pointed out. "You're busy making plans for her future, and she doesn't know." 

“She knows enough, don't you think?"

I looked away, irritation simmering beneath my control. I didn't like this. Not one bit. 

“You’re using her.” 

Victor’s gaze sharpened. “No. I’m protecting her.”

I scoffed quietly. “By arranging her future?”

“By ensuring she never needs to be at people's mercy again,” he corrected. Then, he sighed and walked to the only window in the room. It was large, running from one end of the wall to the other. "I'm an old man, son. I need great grandkids before I die."

My eyebrows rose. Was this man being serious? "You have great grandkids." 

"Your siblings don't even remember I exist. You're basically the only grandson I have. Do you know how lonely I'd have been if you didn't care enough to call me once a week?"  

It was out of obligation, but I didn't point that out, choosing to stay silent. I knew that saying anything would make him believe the emotional blackmail was working. He was going to blackmail me with anything he could until he got me to budge. 

Silence stretched as we stared at each other, waiting for the other to yield. 

Finally, I sighed and broke eye contact. I had a long day, and arguing with Victor was the last thing I needed. 

I picked up the glass and took a measured sip.

“I will escort her,” I mumbled. “But this ends there.”

Victor smiled. “For now.” 

~~~

~~Joan~~

The car slowed as the venue came into view.

Crystal lights spilled from the building, illuminating the long stretch of red carpet already buzzing with cameras and murmurs. 

Even from inside the car, I could feel the weight of eyes waiting to judge... though they technically didn't know who I was. Yet. 

I adjusted my grip on the small clutch in my lap.

“You don’t have to tense,” Brandon muttered calmly beside me. “They sense fear.”

I huffed softly. “That’s comforting.”

A corner of his mouth lifted. “It’s honest.”

The car came to a stop, but for a moment, neither of us moved.

“Once we step out,” he said, “there will be no retreat.”

I met his gaze. “I didn’t plan to run.”

He studied me silently, eyes dancing around my face like he was trying to find something.

“Good.” He reached a hand out. “Take my hand.”

I hesitated only briefly before placing my palm in his.

The door opened, and cameras instantly flashed in our faces. 

I was unprepared for them as they were almost blinding. But thankfully, Brandon used his body to shield mine, blocking out the flashes. He was more used to this than I was. When I was married to Dean, I'd only gone to a handful of these events, and it was only when a spouse's attendance was necessary.

“Do you need a moment?” he asked. 

Yes. 

I shook my head. “No. I'm ready.” I took a deep breath. “Let's go.”

He moved out before me, then assisted me out of the car. 

It took a while to pass through my nerves, but every lesson Victor drilled into me slowly settled into my bones. 

I lifted my chin, straightened my back, and plastered a demure smile on my face. 

The murmur rose the longer we stood, and I heard my ex-husband's name a few times, but I eventually shut them out. I didn't care about what they had to say about me. 

The murmurs grew even louder when it was obvious our hands were joined together. 

As we moved down the carpet into the building, I kept my eyes trained forward. I didn’t seek out Dean, as the old me would've.

I didn’t need to. I knew that with our appearance, there were going to be rumors. And you know what they said about rumors. They traveled fast. 

But I must've underestimated how fast, because almost as soon as Brandon and I were seated on the long table designated for important members and their plus ones, the chairs opposite us became occupied.

When I glanced up, my ex-husband was looking at us with furious eyes. 

Finally, I let myself have the satisfaction of a smile.

It grew even wider when he asked, "What the hell are you doing here, Joan?"