Page 7 of My Destiny
“Fine,” he replies as his eyes move between me and his wife. When he pulls her possessively into his side, a stab of guilt washes over me. Am I that transparent? “I see you’ve already metmywife.” The way he emphasizes his possession of her with his words and actions, make me think he’s an arsehole.
“You’re a lucky man,” I reply, forcing out a smile.
“How did your meeting go?” Brooke asks him. The adoring look on her face as she gazes up at him makes me more envious than I care to admit. Just because I’m single doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to settle down one day with the right person. It’s been years since I’ve been in a serious relationship, since I’m still bearing the scars from the last one. I date, but never long-term. Most of the women in my life are only interested in my bank account or in taming me, the man some call the unattainable bachelor.
“My meeting went fine,” he grates out, his eyes still trained on me.
“You’ve been working way too hard,” she says as her gaze moves back to me. “All those long hours and late nights you’ve been putting in.” When her eyes narrow slightly, I get the impression she’s having a dig at me for overworking him. I don’t know where he’s been going at the end of his working day, but I’m usually the last person to leave the building and can assure you he’s nowhere in sight. But I keep that to myself. What goes on in their marriage is none of my business, though I’d be lying if I said the thought that there might be trouble in paradise didn’t please me somewhat.
Jake continues to stare me down like I’m encroaching on their personal space—tell me if I’m wrong, but I think I’m footing the bill for this event—and has he forgotten I’m the guy who employs him? If he’s so overprotective of his wife, maybe he should’ve been here to greet her when she arrived.
“Well, if you’ll excuse me,” I say. “I need to go mingle.” Turning, I head towards the table I’m assigned to. It’s probably best I keep my distance. There’s no point vying for a woman I can never have.
I greet a few people as I head towards the front of the room. My personal assistant, Claire, makes the seating arrangements, and each year I’m seated with a variety of different people. I don’t discriminate amongst my employees, so it’s usually a mixture of lawyers, personal assistants, secretaries, security staff, and the occasional receptionist or cleaner.
Like I said earlier, the firm’s success is a team effort, and I’d hate for anyone to think that what they do for my company isn’t important. We each have a part to play. My father and I butt heads on this, because although he was brilliant at what he did and built the company from nothing, he’s never been a people person and would have no trouble sleeping at night if he knew he made somebody feel beneath him. Thankfully, my personality is more like my mother’s. My father often tells me I’m soft, but I’d rather think of it as being a decent human being.
“Shit,” I mumble to myself as my eyes scan over the place cards. Brooke Johnston is seated right beside me.
With a quick glance over my shoulder, I pick up both their place cards to do a quick table shuffle. It’s too late to move them to the other side of the room, but I can at least seat them away from me. Sitting next to Brooke all night would be a mixture of pleasure and torment. Besides, if her husband continues to eye me the way he just did, I may end up decking him. I don’t want or need that kind of drama in my life. The stresses that come with running a multimillion-dollar company are more than enough excitement for me.
Maybe I should’ve brought a date with me tonight. I don’t usually bring women to business functions because my private life is just that: private. But I’m second guessing my choices tonight.
“Mr. Cavanagh,” a voice says from behind me, temporarily foiling my plan. Swinging around, I find Brooke standing there. “We must be seated at the same table.” She steps around me, looking for her place card, which unfortunately is still clutched in my hand. “I’m positive the doorman said table one.”
Trying my best to look inconspicuous, I drop the cards to the floor. “Maybe they made a mistake, give me a few minutes and I’ll try and clear it up for you.”
Turning, I go to make a hasty retreat.
“Wait. They’re here… on the floor,” she says.
Shit.
“So they are.” I try to act surprised as I turn to face her once more. She bends to pick them up, and I get a look straight down the front of her dress. Christ, she has a nice rack. When I feel my cock jump in my pants, I shove one of my hands into my pocket, averting my gaze to the ceiling. “The wait-staff must’ve knocked them over when they were setting the table,” I lie, tugging on my black bowtie, which suddenly feels like it’s cutting off my air supply.
She places both cards down on the table before reaching for the back of her chair.
“Allow me.” I may not be entirely pleased to be seated next to her, but at the very least I’m a gentleman.
CHAPTER FOUR
Brooke
“Thank you,” I say when Jake’s boss pushes in my chair. Apart from the fact he’s been working my husband to the bone, he seems lovely. It surprises me, since I wasn’t expecting him to be so young, nice, or handsome, for that matter.
I watch as he takes in his surroundings before seating himself. He seems hesitant. If he’s worried about Jake, he needn’t be because my husband has disappeared again. He said he wanted to catch up with some people and he’d come and sit with me later. I don’t understand why he couldn’t have taken me with him. Tonight is not panning out how I’d hoped.
“Where’s Jake?” he asks, likely in an attempt to make small talk.
“I’m not sure,” I reply, shrugging. I force a smile as I fiddle with the cloth napkin in front of me. I’m embarrassed by the way Jake acted earlier; he’s never been the possessive kind.
“So, are you working here in Melbourne?”
“No, but I worked as a dance teacher and choreographer back in Sydney.” I let out a sigh before continuing. “I loved that job so much.”
“You can’t get a job doing that here? Surely there are plenty of dance studios in Melbourne.” I shrug rather than elaborating. “I have clients in that industry. I could make some calls for you.”
Could this man get any more appealing? Rich, smart, successful—not to mention sinfully good looking—and apparently, a total sweetheart. “Thank you. That’s really nice of you, Mr. Cavanagh, but Jake prefers that I’m no longer working.” My gaze drops down to my lap the second those words are out of my mouth. Jake made a terrible impression on his boss earlier when he carried on like a caveman, and now I feel like I’m jumping on the bandwagon. Although his behaviour lately has left a lot to be desired, he really isn’t a bad guy.
