Page 39 of My Dear Mr. Corporate

CHAPTER 18

Bryan

“Maybe I should have stayed home,” I murmured, my mouth falling open in astonishment as Tate maneuvered his car along the driveway which led to his childhood home. And I had thought Tate’s house to be grand! His parents’ sprawling mansion was brightly lit for the festivities of his mother’s sixtieth birthday party. The starry sky provided the perfect backdrop for what was sure to be a night I would remember. It didn’t go over my head that this would be Tate’s formal introduction of me to his world. The idea excited as well as wrecked my nerves. I had been Keith’s dirty little secret so he hadn’t introduced me to anyone. I didn’t even know anything about his family.

“I wouldn’t have come without you,” Tate replied, and I sensed even he was nervous. He didn’t seem to have the best relationship with his mother which was too bad. I wished I had a mother to share any type of relationship with. “Plus, I have the power to persuade you.”

With one hand, he reached across my lap to cup my cock. “Geez, Tate. I doubt your mother wants to see that when we first meet. Stop that!”

He chuckled but complied. “She’s not completely horrid, just on the cold side. Growing up she scared the crap out of me. I would see other kids with mothers who smiled at them and encouraged them. Mine scowled and glared. I don’t think she was very happy with my father.”

“They never divorced, did they?”

“Nope. It was too convenient for them to remain married. My father needed her for entertainment purposes, and my mother needed him for his money. They got along fine while this was established.”

“Is that why you’re so casual about giving me money and not expecting anything?” I asked him. “Because of the relationship between your parents?”

“I don’t think so. The simple truth is that I like taking care of you. I like taking care of your needs and your wants. Too bad you make it difficult for me to. Don’t think I haven’t been receiving the zero balance statements from the credit card company.”

He drove between two cherubim fountains giving off different shades of blue light. Beyond the fountains, a man formally dressed was waiting. I followed Tate from the car and watched as he passed the key to the man. Who the hell had their own private valet?

Tate reached for my hand and without thinking I gave it to him. With our fingers interlocking we presented ourselves at the front of the guest line. We didn’t speak again until we were inside a beautiful long hall. There were portraits of the family on the wall just like at the office. This, however, was bigger and showed the women in the family as well. I smiled noticing a picture of a gap-toothed Tate when he was around nine years old.

“That’s a horrible picture,” Tate scowled.

“No, it’s sweet. Do you know who everyone is?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice full of pride. “My dad used to make a game of it, so I’d have to identify everyone.”

“Tell me who they are.”

People walked by us and entered the home, but Tate and I remained in the hall as he pointed out everyone and his relationship to them. I was impressed. It had to be a confident feeling to have come from a line as great as the Rosenbaum’s. How could he even love someone like me?

From the hall, Tate led me to a large ballroom he explained was kept closed until his mother threw one of her famous parties. She had worked with his wife on the charities and many of the functions such as auctions and parties were held in the home.

People milled about us, chatter and laughter greeting us as we entered. My eyes quickly took in the wealth of those who were gathered. The combined cost of all the expensive dinner suits the men wore and the cocktail dresses by the women, in addition to flashing diamond jewelry could have fed a state home for an entire year. While I was used to being around wealthy business people from working with Keith, he had never taken me to any of his social activities. To bump shoulders with the wealthy in a casual setting left me feeling like an impostor. I would have stuck out like a sore thumb if Tate hadn’t insisted in buying me a suit for the event. Our standard black outfits were matching.

We attracted attention as we entered, and my palm began to sweat. Since my hand was still in Tate’s, he had to have felt it.

“That’s my mother.” He squeezed my hand and tilted his head a little.

I was about to ask who since there were so many women in our field of vision but the instant I saw her I knew. I’d thought Tate had a slight resemblance of his father but that was before I caught sight of his mother. He was a masculine version of her with stronger cheekbones. She wore her salt and pepper hair as a fashion statement, piled on top of her head in an intriguing knot. Slender and in great shape, she could have been mistaken for someone at least ten years younger than her age. She noticed us but her facial expression did not betray what she felt. There was nothing there to say she was happy to see her son again, and they hadn’t seen each other in a while.

She excused herself from her circle of friends and approached us. Her eyes shifted from Tate and focused on me. She dropped her gaze to our clasped hands and I almost wanted to release the hold Tate had on me. He gripped my hand too tightly though and refused to let go.

“Tate darling!” she exclaimed and placed her hands on his cheeks, patting gently. “When did you arrive?”

“Happy birthday to you, mother,” he remarked and leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “About fifteen minutes ago but I was getting Bryan acquainted with the family.”

She turned her eyes to me then, and I forced down a blush. Her eyes were sharp and direct. She made me feel like ten years old again and I didn’t like it at all. I wondered if Tate had inherited his dominance from her or his father. Perhaps both which would explain his domineering attitude.

“This is my partner, Bryan,” Tate continued to explain. “Bry, this is my mother, Marilyn Rosenbaum.”

She extended a hand to me and Tate released mine so I could shake hers. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Rosenbaum. I trust you had a wonderful birthday.”

“Thank you, dear. It’s a pleasure to meet you as well. Are you from around here?”

“Yes, I’ve always lived in San Diego,” I answered, wishing I could grab Tate’s hand again but it would look too obvious that I was uncomfortable.

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