Page 24 of One Little Mistake
“Heart, Lexi Heart. It’s nice to meet you all. Easton will be here anytime.”
“Of course. The Westbrooks never had any consideration for other people’s time, anyway. Why should today be any different?” Maxim bites out. He has a hint of an accent I can’t quite place.
I’m not sure who Maxim is, so I keep my inner bitch in check.
“He’s just outside. The backbone of their business motto is family first, so it does not surprise me when he takes five minutes to speak to his mother. Family is the most important aspect of life, don’t you think, Maxim?”
“Family doesn’t pay the bills.”
This guy cannot be who we’re here to shmooze. Glancing around, I notice the table is set for three more people, and I breathe a sigh of relief that I don’t have to impress this asshole.
“The Westbooks have built quite the business putting family first, so I’d have to disagree with you there, Maxim.”
“It’s Mr. Savin, Lexi.”
“It’s very nice to meet you, Maxim.” If that fuckwad thinks he is going to intimidate me, he has another thing coming.
“Maxim,” Dillon’s tone carries none of the warnings he’s trying to portray. “Lexi, please sit.” He offers me his hand as he pulls out my chair, and I take it out of habit.
“Get your fucking hands off of her, Dillon.” Easton’s demand startles me, and I lurch forward. Dillon catches me, but East is to my side a second later.
“I said, let her go.”
“East, you scared the shit out of her. I merely kept her from face planting in the center of the table.”
Easton takes a menacing step forward, and I see his face for the first time. This is a side I’ve never seen in any Westbrook. The expression on his face is pure hatred. The vein in his throat so prominent, I can see every beat of his heart.
Dillon raises his hands and takes a step back as Easton glances around the table. If he was pissed a second ago, you’d think he saw a ghost as his gaze lands on Pacen.
“Ness?” Easton’s voice cracks, and I suddenly realize I’ve walked into the middle of something far deeper than a business meeting.
Pacen swallows a sadness I recognize but shakes her head no. “No, East. I-I’m Pacen. You’re not the first to confuse us, though.”
I volley between everyone in the room. Maxim sits at the table, pleased with Easton’s obvious discomfort, while Dillon appears almost as pained as East.
What the hell is going on here?
Pacen’s voice is quiet, but she breaks the silence. “I’m sorry, Easton. I … we,” she glances to Dillon, “we thought you knew we’d be here—”
“That’s enough,” Maxim cuts her off with the viciousness of a bully. “No one asked you to speak. Keep your stupid comments to yourself.”
Pacen visibly shrinks in her seat. If I had sleeves on, I’d be rolling them up, ready to take this monster out.
“What are you doing here?” The venom in Easton’s words could take out an army.
Dillon sighs. “Douglas is only in town for the night, so he asked to combine our meetings. I’m not sure why he wouldn’t have let your assistant know.”
Oh shit. Is this my fault?Easton’s eyes cut to mine, and he gives the slightest shake of his head. Whether he’s telling me it isn’t my fault or that it is, I don’t know.
“No.” Easton’s words are tight, and I can tell he’s fighting with himself. “I will not sit at a table with you.” The hatred in his eyes unnerves me. To be honest, I never would have guessed any Westbrook could carry this much anger; not with their welcome to the chaos mantras and open-door policies. They have more pseudo brothers than the pound has dogs, but there is no mistaking the murderous expression on his face right now.
“It’s been almost eight—”
“No,” Easton yells. “You, of all people, don’t get to say that to me. I don’t want you to say a fucking word to me ever again. Do you understand? You’re not my brother. You’re not a part of my life anymore. You lost that right, so now you can stay the fuck away from me.”
His gaze drifts back to Pacen, and I see the pain flash across his face. I have no idea what’s going on, but I have the uncontrollable urge to comfort him. Reaching out, I place my hand on Easton’s forearm. He flinches but doesn’t pull away. Instead, he tears his gaze away from her and focuses on me.
So many emotions play in his eyes as he centers himself, never breaking eye contact with me. It’s an oddly intimate moment, made more awkward by the audience of people Easton obviously has a history with.
