Page 87 of Organized Chaos
A busboy I had seen before greeted me with a courteous smile when I passed, making me turn in his direction to return the favor. When I circled back to Brandon, I found him studying the busboy closely. Brandon’s glare suddenly moved in my direction. Before I could utter a word, he roughly grabbed my hand, charging toward an unspoken destination.
Though I had maintained physical distance to minimize the outward appearance, Brandon was unperturbed by the risks involved. There was a pregnant pause when he herded me through a group of girls. They were assembled near the middle of the shop and did a double-take. It was difficult not to gape at the force of nature powering through their midst.
When we were younger, we teased Milo and Reid relentlessly for the groupies who chased after them. But Brandon was a category of his own.
Intimidating, he displayed every meticulous detail of a bad boy. The messy hair, the detached attitude, the ink—it was the holy trinity of danger and sex bottled inside one explosive package. He could hardly go somewhere without being ogled or eye-fucked.
However, they weren’t only staring at Brandon.
The school uniform declared my youth, the lack of makeup and hair pulled into a braid only made me look younger. Whereas Brandon’s natural confidence drew attention to the fact that he was a powerful, grown man.
Probing eyes tried to make sense of our odd pairing with stark differences in age and appearance since Brandon’s possessive hold ruled out the possibility of us being related.
Luckily, the girls were discreet about their curiosity and politely looked away. Only one offender forgot to avert her eyes long after the socially acceptable grace period was over. She seemed awestruck, staring after Brandon like it was love at first sight.
I snorted inwardly.
A few months ago, I would have relished the idea of gouging this girl’s eyes out. Now, all I could think was—Good fucking luck.
Unaware of the trail of broken hearts he was leaving behind, Brandon swiftly bypassed the restrooms before rounding the corner.
Suddenly, I knew exactly where he was headed.
A set of doors through this hallway opened to a separate room with a long table in the middle and scattered lounge chairs. No other decorative art pieces on the wall.
I often stationed a post in this room to study because I could hear the action from here, so I didn’t feel alone. However, it wasn’t loud enough to break my concentration.
The only souls I had seen here were the employees. Before today, I assumed no one else even knew about the café’s hidden gem. And that’s when I realized everything leading up to this moment was part of a plan designed by Brandon.
It was vindictive, calculative, and totally him.
Chapter 20
Despite their love-hate relationship and outlook in life, Milo and Brandon had more in common than the two realized. Not because they both attended Columbia or had extraordinary minds for business. It was the choreographed way they conducted themselves. Unlike me, neither of them was innately impulsive. They rationed their cards, bated their time, and attacked at the opportune moment.
Once, Milo and Brandon courted a potential investor. They were insistent about this particular investor being a great asset. Instead of taking any impromptu actions that might ruin their future chances, they did diligent research and found an Achilles heel. By the time they pitched a proposal, they had created an airtight plan and backed him into a corner, leaving the man with no option but to hop on board.
