Restraint - Adriana Locke Page 0,44

just some ditz you’re bringing to an event,” she says.

I rock back in my chair. “I bring those ditzes, as you so affectionately call them, with me to places oftentimes as a favor. Someone needed a ticket to something or wanted to network a little bit. I’m not bringing them for me.”

“He picks the ones for him up at airports these days,” Oliver chimes in.

“That’s enough from the back of the room,” I say.

He laughs. “He met this girl at an airport, Riss.”

Larissa’s face breaks into a wide smile. “It’s like a movie!”

“It’s not,” I say with just as much gusto. “It’s a woman I met who can’t go home for a few days because her apartment is being renovated. And I offered my home out of kindness.”

She gets to her feet and tucks the envelope in her pocket. Half of it sticks out the top.

“That’s all well and good,” Larissa says, “but she’s staying at your house, Holtie. You’re practically marrying this girl in my book.”

“Oh, please,” I hiss, my stomach twisting tighter. “This is nothing more than … a business arrangement. She’s family of the Landrys, and this helps our situation—something Oliver has also forgotten about.” I look at him pointedly.

He rolls his eyes.

Larissa says nothing but doesn’t have to. Her smug little grin says it all.

I sigh.

“This is not a business arrangement,” Larissa says.

“How do you know?” I ask. “You just found out about this—from Wade, no less.”

“I know,” Larissa says, heading toward the door, “because I found out from Wade. If it wasn’t a big deal, Wade of all people wouldn’t have told me.”

She throws me a wink as if her point has been made.

“Riss, you need to be going. Oliver needs my help,” I say.

“Yeah, but I’ve needed your help all morning, and you’ve been as worthless as tits on a boar.”

“Gee, thanks,” I say.

He shrugs. “I think Riss needs to stay, and you need to … get this out of your system. Do it with her so I can get the Holt I know and need back, and we can go make money today.”

Larissa pats Oliver’s shoulder again. “I love your support of my nosiness.”

“It’s really just self-preservation,” he tells her. “I’ll see you at the concert?”

She taps the envelope in her pocket. “Yup. Are you bringing your new babe, Holt?”

I clear my throat.

The room gets hotter as I war mentally with her very, very simple question. The answer should be no. It should be a quick response that doesn’t require stumbling or thought.

I don’t bring random women to family events. My family isn’t a normal family, and they can overwhelm people. They can attract the wrong people. They can become a pass to all the glamorous events in the South—and elsewhere—and that doesn’t bode well for relationships.

In any case, Larissa’s question shouldn’t still be lingering in the room.

And Oliver, Larissa, and I all know it.

Oliver shakes his head.

“What?” I ask, my question bordering on hostile.

“Just answer the damn question,” he says.

“I did.”

“No, you didn’t.” Oliver stands. “And I don’t actually care, but now I’m curious. And I like watching you squirm.”

Larissa leans against the door, her head resting on the wood panels. “I think he answered it, Oliver.”

“I’m not bringing Blaire to the concert,” I say. But as soon as I do, I regret it.

It’s none of their business.

Fuck them for putting me in this position.

“Suit yourself,” Larissa says, exchanging a grin with my brother. “But may I remind you that you’re getting old. You might wanna settle down and have kids while you still can.”

“What?” I ask, my jaw dropping for her benefit.

She laughs. “Thanks for the tickets. I’ll see you two later.”

“Bye,” Oliver calls after her.

I give her a wave before heading back to my desk.

My heart pounds in my chest as I sit back at my seat and overtly ignore my phone. I rifle through my drawer as if I’m searching for the meaning to life when, in reality, I’m just searching for my fucking sense.

This situation shouldn’t screw with my head like this.

But my whole family shouldn’t know about Blaire, either.

It’s not a big deal, and even if I wanted to bring her to the concert, what would it matter? Would it really be that different than if I’d bring Daphne Monroe or some other debutante?

I pull out a peppermint, then slip the wrapper off and pop it into my mouth. My mind tries to rationalize the last few minutes when I lift my head and my eyes meet