Page 12 of Runaway Bride for the Boss

“I’m on it.” I return, trying not to grit my teeth. Dad finally ceded control of Beaufort Construction and the organization to me a year ago, but he can’t seem to resist keeping tabs on me. Trying to steer from the sidelines. As if it isn’t bad enough that he has held onto the reins of the business for this long; in fact, Mom begged him to retire for years.

“Nuh uh. No business talk at the dining table,” Mom scolds, passing pointed looks between me and Dad. Dad raises his hand in surrender.

After a few minutes, Autumn excuses herself to use the restroom. Andrea offers to show her where it is. My eyes watch Autumn retreat until she’s fully out of sight. Like I said, watchingher walk away has quickly become one of my favorite and most addictive hobbies.

“Boys, why don’t we retire to my study where we can talk business?” Dad slowly gets up from his seat.

“For goodness sake, John. The kids are more than competent, so stop micromanaging them,” Mom scolds. But Dad simply places a light kiss on her cheek before he leads us to his study on the first floor.

“You got drunk? What the hell, Ezra?” is the first thing out of his mouth as soon as we’re in his office. Ezra tosses a look at me and I shake my head.

“When are you going to get your shit together? Just look at Andrea. She’s your little sister, and she’s got her shit all figured out.”

“It won’t happen again,” he grits out.

“Better not. Alexander. Do you still have a pulse on New York? I believe Larson Brown is still under our thumb?”

“Yes, he is. What are you doing, Dad? We agreed you’d back off.” I remind him as he circles his desk to sit down in his high-backed chair. He stares me down, but I don’t back down. Enough of this shit already.

He sighs. “I know, I know. Old habits.”

“If you’re going to question me at every turn, then I can’t do this. I won’t. It stops now, Dad. Either I’m in charge, or you are. There can’t be two drivers in a vehicle.”

“I’ll try to hold myself back,” he grumbles. and I give him a look. “Oh, get out of here with that face. I won’t question you anymore, damn it. Am I not permitted to raise concerns over the company I put my sweat and blood into for over three decades?”

“Remember your blood pressure, Dad,” Ezra chides him. This doesn’t sit well with Dad.

“Get out of here you hooligans!” he growls angrily, throwing a stapled document at Ezra. “Remember your blood pressure,Dad,” he grumbles under his breath, mimicking Ezra. “Fuck my blood pressure.”

My brother and I share amused glances.

“Come on, Pops, don’t be like that,” Ezra cajoles him, walking closer to his desk. “Tell you what? How about we play a round of chess? If you can handle losing to me without your face turning purple, then I won’t mention your blood pressure again.”

“Prepare to have your ass whipped, boy,” Dad returns with a grin.

I shake my head at the two of them as I take my leave. This family may be the death of me, but they’re all I have. They know I’d kill for each and every one of them.

CHAPTER 8

AUTUMN

The Beaufort mansion is truly magnificent. The estate boasts a towering historic mansion situated on twenty pristine, heavily forested acres of land. I am mesmerized when we drive up the long, winding driveway lined with the most breathtaking assortment of trees that range in color from the deepest evergreens to burnt orange oaks and crimson red maples. I can’t believe this is where Andrea and her brothers got to grow up, and I tell her as much.

Then I see the house, and I fall speechless. It has to be two hundred years old and has a gothic air about it. A shiver runs up my spine when I exit Andrea’s car and glance up at the dark, stone facade. A wide staircase leads to the front door with stone lions perched as guard on either side. Eerie, but regal.

Andrea explains to me that Beaufort means “beautiful fort” and it was imperative to her father that their home become a sanctuary for his family. And it certainly is. Andrea leads me through the huge mahogany front doors, clanging the brass knocker to announce our arrival. After a very excited greeting from two adorably huge Cane Corsos, who are scolded for leaving their designated guarding posts, she runs off to use the washroom and leaves me in the foyer alone.

All I can manage is to stare at the overwhelmingly beautiful space. The walls are finished in Venetian plaster and trimmed with rich, dark wood. Gold and crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling with matching sconces that give off the softest glow. I notice that the entire home is dimly lit with warm lighting, and the floors are all covered in rich, ornate rugs that give the house a homey yet decadent feel.

The last of the day’s sunlight soaks in through stained glass windows high above my head, which magnify light in every color across the ceiling. The result is absolutely ethereal.

As I am lost in thought and feeling overwhelmed by how surreal the surroundings are, I feel a sensation like fingertips running up my spine. I turn to find Alexander watching me, studying my every move. His eyes roam over me as if he were memorizing every line and plane of my face. It is like tonight could be his last chance, and he can’t risk forgetting a single detail. He so slowly takes me in from my shoes up the length of my shimmering emerald dress to my eyes that sting with the realization that this is the reality for some people: a home with a family that loves one another and gathers for special occasions and holidays, something I’ve never had.

He looks as handsome as ever in his black, three piece suit. His dark hair tousled from the wind, is pushed back, but a few loose strands fall to his brow. The need to reach out and touch them is overwhelming. I can’t explain the pull I feel. And he’s made it clear that although he had spent the better part of a year looking for me, he is not interested now. I don’t know what I did wrong to make him change his mind, but my heart is in no place to find out. So I walk away. Again.

This hallwayon the second floor is like a shrine to the Beaufort siblings. Andrea escorts me upstairs to use the restroom, and now I’m wandering the endless halls, trying to understand this mysterious family. They clearly love one another immeasurably and have built a hugely successful empire – one that I have yet to fully comprehend. There are clearly many secrets behind the Beaufort name, the likes of which I will never be privy to; but right now, I just feel grateful to be accepted into their home to share one of my favorite holidays with a loving family. I’m beyond thankful for new friends and good food, and having the Beaufort brothers sitting across from me to feast my eyes on is an added treat that I certainly have indulged in tonight.

Every one of their milestones are documented in framed pictures on the walls. I see them as babies, taking their first steps, the first day in kindergarten, junior prom…and so on. Most of the pictures feature Mr. and Mrs. Beaufort—well, John and Martha, as I was told to call them—and the smiling children. I admire the pictures on the wall with equal parts pleasure and envy. How must it feel to have the assurance of parental love? And it’s clear from the photos, and my interaction with them today, that the family is filled with warmth and adoration. Even through their banter, I can feel the unbreakable family bond.

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