On that point, we agree. His DNA is probably more closely matched to an iceberg. Or our grandfather. He used to bully me mercilessly on getting all the emotions in the family, and he’s not wrong. Grant seems not to feel anything. I feel everything, and it pisses me off.
“How do you go about…” I search for the right word. “Wooing.”
“Wooing,” Grant repeats acerbically. “When did you start hitting the regency romance novels?”
“How do you make a woman think you’re not a despicable asshole?” I clarify through gritted teeth.
“Well, first of all, I don’t act like a despicable asshole.” When I snort, he adds on, “Around them ortothem.”
My jaw tightens. “It’s a touch late for that.” I was only my usual self to Victoria for a few weeks, but that’s more than enough to leave a lasting impression.
“I see. Are we talking about the girl you decided to name-drop during that ridiculous conference today?”
My head jerks back. “How the hell do you know about that?”
“Grandmother called me to ask if I knew anything about it. I think she’s hoping you’ll settle down.” I can almost hear him roll his eyes. “God knows she’ll only be getting heirs from one of us.”
I don’t touch that issue with a ten-foot pole. As far as I’m aware, part of the contract that allowed Grant to get control of the family business was that he marry and have children within the next few years. I wouldn’t put it past the fucker to take that shit to court. Despite his many,manyhigh-profile relationships, he seems to have no interest in settling or having kids. That’s probably for the best; the thought of him passing down his genetics is repulsive.
“She watched the press conference? Never mind, of course she did.” Grandma watches my career like a hawk. Grandfather, on the other hand, only looks for the highlights—and he’s almost always disappointed with what he finds.
“Yes, of course she did,” Grant drawls. “You’ll be interested to know that our motheralsoapparently has alerts set up regarding your little hobby, because I got a text from her.”
My muscles bunch, and I walk from the kitchen to the living room, gazing out the row of windows. It’s still dark out, but the sun will start rising soon. I know something I’dmuchrather be doing than sulking on my own. Rather, someone.
“I’m impressed she found the time. Or still has your number.” She and Dad are usually far too absorbed in each other to payus any attention.
“The prospect of grandchildren is the only thing that can catch her attention.”
“First of all, why the fuck is mentioning a girl at apress conferencegiving everyone the impression that I’ll be marrying and reproducing with her?”
“Because you’ve never spoken highly of anyone before. People will make assumptions. Next?”
That can’t be true. I’m not known for singing people’s praises, but there have been times in my life where I gave credit where credit was due.Right?
Fuck, maybe not.
“Second of all,why would grandchildren exciteher?” Heirs being important to my grandparents make sense; they have a multi-billion dollar industry that makes them consider succession very carefully. Not that I’deverpush any hypothetical children of mine to helm the empire. But my parents couldn’t spare enough time to raise me and Grant; why would they care about more kids in the family?
“Who the fuck knows, and more importantly, whocares?Your ten minutes are past up, by the way, and we’re now running on…” Grant pauses. “Twenty minutes. That’s a thousand dollars. If you have a point, I suggest you get to it.”
Absoluteprick. “How do I make her like me?”
“You don’t make women do anything. At best, you use subtle manipulation—”
“Give me the non-Machiavellian version.”
Grant pauses to think. “Do you care about her?”
Ifreeze. Every muscle in my body goes stiff as a statue, and an abrupt and startling realization slams into me.
I do. I care about her a lot. I care about her opinion, and her comfort. It shattered something in me to see her frightened expression after I name-dropped her at the conference—that’s why I grilled Oliver to tell me where she lives.
When the hell didthathappen? When did she morph from an annoyance to someone who’s emotional state I consider?
“I’ll take your silence as a yes.” Grant pretends to gag. “Disgustingly sentimental, but that’s your problem, not mine. If you care about her, then I suppose it’ll be easier. You don’t have tofakewanting her to be happy. So, pay attention. Learn what she likes, what she dislikes. Lean into the likes, avoid the dislikes. I’ve also found that simplylisteningmakes women feel seen. Let them rant for a while and they’ll let you fuck them however—”
“You werealmostdoing well,” I cut in. “So close, Grant.”
