Picture This (Bryant Brothers Book 4) Read online

  As she walked past, she slid a sly glance over her shoulder then murmured, “Good luck. You’re going to need it.”

  “You can leave too,” Walter said, and Elliot realized he was talking to him.

  “Yeah, I don’t think so. I have a feeling it would be better for all involved if I stayed in the room.”

  Walter opened and closed his mouth several times. Elliot had a feeling people did not question his authority very often.

  “Chelsea, wait,” Amelia called out. “Stay.”

  Chelsea glanced at Walter, who scowled and said, “They should both leave.”

  “At the moment, I am still in charge and this is still my office, which means this is my meeting, and I say they both stay.”

  It was funny, really, how incredibly hot it had been bossing her around in bed and yet getting turned on by her being bossy in the office. Did that make him a sick fuck?

  Well, if you added in the fact that they could no longer have that sort of relationship, yes, it sure did.

  “Why don’t you sit down, give that knee a rest?” Elliot pointed at the chair Chelsea had just vacated. He doubted Amelia would do as he recommended. She’d probably feel like it would reduce her position of power or something.

  But she did sit primly in the chair, placing both hands on her desk. And then he got it. That exact location was the true position of power in this room. Walter and Chelsea became visitors in her domain.

  “Care to explain, Walter?”

  The guy flinched. Did he honestly think he was deserving of the dad moniker?

  “I don’t owe you anything.”

  Elliot almost laughed at the guy’s audacity. He owed her so much, and he’d never be able to pay in full, even if he started today acting like a real father.

  “I beg to differ, but that’s not what’s at issue here. What is, is what appeared to be going on between you and Chelsea.”

  He thrust out his chin like an insolent child. “If there is anything going on in my personal life, it has no bearing on the office, and therefore is none of your business.”

  This time, Elliot winced. What a dick. Was he deliberately not acknowledging that she was his daughter?

  Amelia lifted one finger. “Not true. Her hand was on your knee while you were in the office, which makes your personal life very relevant to the workplace. Additionally, have you forgotten about the HR policy that you insisted be put in place?”

  “She isn’t my direct report.”

  “So you are having an affair.”

  Chelsea pranced over and wrapped both of her arms around one of Walter’s and batted her eyelashes while smiling up at him. “We are,” she announced.

  Walter shook her off. She pouted and remained standing next to him.

  “Get out,” he commanded, glaring at Chelsea.

  Her pout deepened. “Amelia told me to stay.”

  Walter turned his focus from her to Amelia and barked, “I’m not talking to you about anything unless they both leave.”

  “I’m not—” Amelia raised her hand, cutting Elliot off.

  “I’ll be fine. He can’t hurt me anymore.”

  Elliot doubted that, but he wasn’t in a position to argue, so he reluctantly followed Chelsea out the door. As soon as it closed behind them, she rounded on him. “She’s going to ruin everything.”

  He arched his brows. “How so?”

  She flapped her hand at the glass door. “She’s going to convince him to stop sleeping with me.”

  Elliot pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can’t believe you’re sleeping with your friend’s father.”

  “Amelia has nothing to do with our affair.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I mean, I wasn’t thinking about her or her connection to Walter when I—when we…”

  He canted his head. “Wait a minute. This isn’t some sort of power play?”

  Chelsea’s eyes went so big, Elliot didn’t need her verbal confirmation.

  “Do you think you’re in love with the guy?”

  She crossed her arms and thrust out her chin. “It’s too soon to call it that.”

  Holy shit. She’d struck up a relationship with Amelia’s father for purely personal reasons. He actually felt bad for her, because if Walter Gerard couldn’t give his wife and kids the love they deserved, he sure as hell wouldn’t be able to offer Chelsea what she’d eventually need from their relationship.

  “She doesn’t care about your affair, not in the way you think. She just wants to keep her job.”

  Chelsea glanced at the closed office door and her shoulders slumped. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. And now I don’t want it to end.”

  Elliot recalled her telling him this place had been a saving grace when she’d come out of a bad relationship a few years ago. Sleeping with the founder of the company, who would never be able to fulfill her needs emotionally, was a giant step back for her after all she’d accomplished thus far. Before he could try to tell her this, the door opened, and Walter stepped through, his gaze sweeping over Chelsea and Elliot in turn before he turned and strode away. Chelsea chased after him, tottering on impossibly high heels.

  Elliot headed into Amelia’s office. She sat behind her desk, typing away at her laptop. “You okay?”

  She glanced up briefly and then returned her focus to the computer. “Yes and no.”

  He walked over and dropped into one of the chairs facing her desk. “What’s that mean?”

  Apparently done with whatever was on her screen, she tapped another couple of keys and leaned back in her chair, sighing. “He still doesn’t want me in charge. We’re still about to do battle in this meeting. But he seemed…less angry, I guess. And I think that’s because of Chelsea. Can you believe it?”

  “Yeah, I can.”

  Amelia shook her head. “The only way that relationship will work is if she can keep her heart in check. He’ll never be there for her emotionally.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  She smoothed her hands over the glossy desktop. “I’ll try to warn her, after the board meeting. I just need to get through it first.”

  Elliot glanced at the clock hanging over the door. “Speaking of, are you about ready to head down there? Do you know which conference room it’s in?”

  She pulled out her compact and touched up her lipstick. “Yes. You’re coming too, by the way.”

  “I planned to be there.”

  She looked up and smiled. His heart started beating unnaturally fast. He wanted to tell her that he wasn’t interested in settling for a working relationship. He wanted more.

  He wanted all of her.

  But he couldn’t do that to her, not right now, when she was about to fight the battle of her career.

  Instead, he said, “Let’s do this” and picked up her crutches, holding them so that she could hoist herself into a standing position.

  They made their way to the elevator, pausing along the way for concerned employees to inquire about her injury and for Amelia to introduce him as her new admin. And then they rode down to the first floor, where the largest conference room was located.

  Several people—mostly gray-haired, white men—were standing in the hallway, chatting among themselves. The lone woman broke away from the group to stride over and shake Amelia’s hand. She had dark skin and wore her hair in a short, curly bob. Her suit was black, with a bright yellow shell underneath. There were giant diamond studs Elliot assumed were real in her ears.

  “I just want you to know that even if you weren’t as competent as you are, I’d still want you to remain in charge if only because you’re the only other woman in these meetings.” She chuckled, patted Amelia’s arm, and then strode away again.

  “That’s Rand McMillan’s wife,” she whispered to Elliot. “She owns the second most shares behind my father, which, of course, he hates, but it means she definitely has clout with the board.”

  “That’s a good sign.”

  Elliot spot
ted Amelia’s father, slipping out of a room down the hall, straightening his tie and slicking back his white hair as he headed their way. A moment later, Chelsea darted out of the same room and rushed in the other direction. Elliot shook his head and followed Amelia into the conference room.

  It was massive, with a sleek wooden table that could seat twenty people and flat screens hanging on the walls every few feet around the entire perimeter of the space. Not a bad seat in the house, apparently. He scooped out the coffee and water station and smiled smugly.

  “You’re noticing the lack of food, aren’t you?” Amelia whispered.

  He chuckled.

  They sat, Walter at the head, Rand and his wife on either side, and Amelia and Elliot seated next to each other about halfway down the table, with the rest of the board claiming the other seats.

  Duane was not in attendance. Elliot wanted to ask Amelia about that, but Walter started the meeting.

  “Thank you all for coming today, and for the last-minute changes we all had to endure.”

  “Does this mean the meeting in two weeks is cancelled?” someone called out.

  “Probably,” Walter said, which caused Amelia to frown.

  “What about lunch?”

  “I didn’t have time to order it today,” he responded and then pursed his mouth.

  “We should see if the lunches from the next meeting can be delivered today instead. We got to customize our orders.”

  Several other members agreed with this sentiment, and Amelia arched her eyebrows and smiled at Elliot.

  “Perhaps if we stop chattering,” Walter suggested icily, “we can adjourn this meeting quickly and everyone will have plenty of time to get their own lunches.”

  The room quieted, and he stood and began droning about how he founded this company and what he started with, what his vision had been, how much he’d sacrificed to make it successful.

  Elliot was bored after thirty-five seconds. Maybe the reason he never managed to hold down a job for more than a few months was because corporate America was so damn wearying. He was never bored when he was behind the camera, even when he was trying to capture the perfect baby shot and the subject was being uncooperative.

  As Walter continued on and on with the “me, me, me” speech, Elliot let his mind wander. To Amelia.

  Her reasons for working for Gerard Glass, for pouring her heart and soul into this place, were obviously an attempt to win her father’s approval, which he knew would never happen. Still, she deserved to be here, deserved to keep her position, and he fully believed she’d be able to convince the board—if not her father—to let her stay on. Eventually, she’d learn to be satisfied of her own accord, and when that happened, this job would become even more fulfilling than it already was.

  And Elliot wanted to be there when that happened. He wanted to help her get to that headspace.

  And since he also had every intention of convincing her that they should be more than friends, that meant she was going to have to find a new assistant, because he was going to quit just as soon as this meeting was finished and she was securely in her place as COO. That way, they could be together.

  Maybe he’d hang his shingle—finally, finally do what he’d always wanted to do: be a professional photographer. Amelia believed in him, and, frankly, hers was the only opinion that mattered.

  Someone other than Walter started talking, and Elliot tuned into the conversation around him instead of the one in his head. Walter must have made his suggestion that Duane take over as COO—where was he, anyway?—because the room erupted and everyone started talking at once. Two guys argued for Walter’s point, while the majority of the rest seemed to think he was a complete idiot for wanting his son to run the company just because he was male.

  Rand’s wife snottily said that women ran things better anyway, an argument that would never hold up in court, although Elliot certainly appreciated her support.

  Without saying a word, Amelia stood, using her crutches to balance herself. She stayed like that until one by one, the individuals in the room took notice and stopped talking.

  The last person to shut up was Walter, who was trying to explain to Mrs. McMillan that someday, Amelia would get married and take her husband’s name and someone other than a Gerard would be running the company, and she responded with, “My last name is still Halon, as in Halon Manufacturing, which is the company my parents started and gave me control of.” Which Elliot thought was pretty cool, although what the hell a person’s last name had to do with running a company he doubted he would ever understand.

  And then Amelia finally spoke.

  “I don’t want it,” she said. “In fact, I quit.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Take me home,” Amelia said as soon as she and Elliot were both seated in her vehicle. “Please.”

  She closed her eyes and willed her hummingbird-like heart to slow down before she had a heart attack.

  “I did it,” she whispered, to herself, really, although she knew Elliot was wondering what the hell was going on. He’d been so instrumental in helping her fight this battle, and then she’d thrown it all away right when victory was within their grasp.

  “I know you deserve an explanation, and I’m going to give it to you. Just as soon as we are home and sitting on the patio with drinks in our hands.”

  “Whiskey or wine?” he asked, and she loved him for it. She’d never met someone so perfectly suited to her before in her life, and she’d damn near given him up.

  For a job.

  “Wine, I think. A rosé. It’s so warm out today.”

  “There’s one chilling in the fridge.”

  “Also, don’t hate me for making you wait even longer, but I really want to get out of these clothes first too.”

  “I don’t hate you. Exactly the opposite, in fact.”

  She wanted him to expound on that statement, but she needed to say her piece first. He deserved to understand what had happened.

  When they pulled into the garage, he placed his hand on her thigh. “Let me carry you.”

  “I’d love nothing more.”

  He lifted her into his arms, and she nestled against his chest and closed her eyes and fully appreciated this gesture for exactly what it was. An expression of love.

  “On second thought,” she said when he sat her on the bed. “Why don’t you go get that wine and bring it up here?”

  His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say anything, didn’t ask why; he simply left the room. She hurried to shed her suit and considered not dressing in anything else, but that was even more presumptuous than inviting him to share a bottle of wine in her bedroom, so she tossed on a T-shirt and a pair of shorts.

  When he returned, she laughed, because he’d done the same damn thing. “I hate suits,” he admitted as he poured the wine.

  “You look amazing in them.” Maybe one day she’d convince him to wear one just so she could strip it off him.

  “Okay,” he said once they were both leaning against the headboard with a glass of wine in hand, “time to start talking.”

  She didn’t even hesitate.

  “While we were sitting there and my father kept going on and on about how hard he worked to create this company and everything was all him, him, him, I realized that I was doing exactly the same thing.”

  He arched that one, adorable eyebrow. “You don’t strike me as a narcissist.”

  She smiled sardonically. “No, I like to think not. I meant I was choosing that company over my personal life.” She twisted to face him. “I almost gave you up. For what? A job?”

  “A career.”

  She waved the wineglass. “Not the career I truly desired. I’ve been fighting for something I don’t even want. And do you know why?”

  “Yes, but go ahead and tell me.”

  Chuckling, she shook her head. “You are amazing, do you know that?”

  He touched the rim of his glass to hers and lifted it in toast. “I do now. So, tell me why
you’ve worked so hard at that company. I think admitting it out loud will be good for you. Cleansing.”

  “All I cared about was my father’s approval. That’s been my main motivation since I was twelve years old and my mother let me go to that party and I chatted up his clients. All I wanted was to hear him tell me I did a good job.”

  Elliot nodded slowly. “Understandable desire.”

  “But it’s never going to happen. I have finally realized that. And now that I do, I’d probably be even better at the job, because I’d be doing it for myself. But even that isn’t as important as love.”

  He stared at her. “Are you telling me you love me?”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “Yes, I am. I do. I can’t give you up for that company. I can’t give you up for anything. I don’t—”

  He pressed two fingers against her lips and placed his glass on the bedside table before tugging hers from her hand and setting it down next to the other one.

  “Come here,” he commanded, and she scrambled—as quickly as she could with her bum knee—to climb into his lap.

  When she was seated there, her arms around his neck and his hands on her hips, he said, “I’m sure they will be begging you by tomorrow if not within the hour. If you want to go back, you have my full support. I was planning to quit anyway. I was just waiting until after the meeting.”

  He grinned. “I planned to give you a very similar speech. Something along the lines of how much I love you and I’ve decided to start up my photography career because I’d rather do what I love and be with the woman I love.”

  She gasped. “You’re going to try the photography? Really?”

  He nodded.

  She hugged him. “I’m so happy. You’re going to be amazing. The most coveted photographer around.”

  He chuckled.

  “But I’m not going back there. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but that’s not it.”

  “Maybe you should follow your dreams too.”

  “You mean go into PR?”

  He nodded. “What do you think about us going into business together? A PR firm. I’ll be your chief photographer. I can handle website development and all the pictures we’d need for publicity purposes. If you decide to plan events, I can take all the official party shots.”