Page 49 of Crave
Think, Jamison. Think.
Bree strolled toward me. I liked the idea of her coming to me and not the other way around. It convinced me that I hadn’t chosen her.
“We have a flight to catch,” she softly said.
I thrust my chin upward. “How did you know where to find me?”
“Your father found you.”
“Then why are you here?”
Her stare was emotionless. “You know why I’m here.”
I sighed sharply, rubbing my eyes. When I’d run into Bryn at the airport that weekend, she had me pegged. I had gone to Newport, Rhode Island, to be with a woman—Bree. The situation was complicated, though, and I hadn’t made any promises or commitments.
I shoved a hand toward the door. “After you.”
She turned and strolled forward, having no doubt that I would follow. She shouldn’t have been so confident. Me leaving with her wasn’t yet set in stone. I would be fine without my family’s money, and my mother would always love me no matter what. And truthfully, I was perfectly content with cutting ties with my father, both professionally and emotionally.
But Boomer had warned me on many occasions that he had enough insurance on me that if crossed, he could send me to jail for a long time.
“Like what?” I had asked.
He’d winked. “Try me, and you’ll find out.”
What kind of shit is that for a father to say to his son?
If I told him to take his failing business and fuck off, he would use whatever evidence against me he’d acquired over the years to take me down. One thing was for certain—I knew his threats weren’t empty. And even though he was my father, he wouldn’t hesitate to send me straight to jail if I turned on him. Not only had my instincts warned me about that fact, but so had my intellect.
But more than ever, I wanted to be with Bryn Christmas. I wanted to have her and to hold her until death did us part. I’d given her up once, but I wouldn’t do it twice. And for that reason, I followed Bree Lovell to the parked sedan to be driven to the airport.
Breeand I sat in the back seat. She gazed straight ahead, keeping her posture straight and chin up as if she were a department-store mannequin. She liked me. I knew she was hiding the fact that she was happy as hell our parents wanted us to get married. I’d kissed her once just to try her on. I didn’t like the smell of her skin or the taste of her mouth. Her cold heart made her lips icy. But I had to get her talking so I could learn more about what was going on.
“All right. I get on the airplane, and then what?” I asked.
She continued facing forward. “It’s not for me to decide what’s next.”
“Then why the hell are you here?”
Finally, she turned to look at me. Behind the coldness, I saw hope in her eyes. “You’re not happy to see me?”
Be careful, Jamison.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Should I be?”
Bree grunted and shook her head.Fuck.She knew I was trying to soften her up, make her hopeful enough to drop her guard.
She faced forward. “I’m not talking to you like this.”
I glared at her profile. There was no use in trying to play her. She was too shrewd for her own good. Like a cat tossed off the roof, she knew how to land on her feet. It hadn’t benefitted her to reveal why she’d shown up to collect me. Plus, her allegiance would be toward my father, since she saw him as the dominant figure in our father–son duo. Also, as far as Bree was concerned, marriage wasn’t about love, and had nothing to do with pleasure.
Power. Control. The rules. That was what sex and marriage were about. She wanted a man like me to fuck her and validate her. I was a prize to Bree Lovell. And Boomer was going to hand me to her on a silver platter while dipping his dick in her whenever he wanted. Therefore, the time had surely come to accept all of that as glaring fact so that I could find my balls and fight for what I wanted. I had to be on my guard, keep my wits about me, and be ready for the battle of my life. I repeated that to myself as the car stopped next to a private airplane.
Just because I loathed Bree didn’t mean I’d forgotten my manners. I invited her to walk up the ramp first. I went up behind her. When I stepped into the cabin, I stopped. There he sat, Boomer Cox. My father’s thin lips were molded into the permanent frown he always greeted me with, and he glared at me with eyes dulled by the bitterness that ate him up from the inside. It hadn’t always been so contentious between us. He loved me, I was sure of it, when I was a boy. Then one day, I came to the realization that I could never please him, not even if I was doing shit his way. I had friends who were carbon copies of their fathers. They'd repeat the shit their fathers would say as if their words were gospel. That was never me. I was born a thinker and a watcher. I saw what no one else was paying attention to. I was very young when I saw my father clearly. I’d observed whatever conditions and matters caused him to hesitate. I was able to see the parts of Boomer he couldn’t see for himself. I knew what made him want to fight. And in the airplane, I knew by the way Boomer was looking at me that he was at war with me.
“Did you enjoy your piece of ass?” he asked. That was his first shot—to cheapen a beautiful and rare specimen like Bryn Christmas and make it seem as if she wasn’t worthy of me or him, when in fact she was better than the both of us.
Bree sat in the seat next to Boomer. She crossed her legs, casually pulled a laptop out of the side pocket, and opened it. She was good at behaving as if she was alone and calm in a room that was on fire.
