Chapter 300
Brandon’s POV
A
The Stark mansion buzzed with forced laughter and clinking crystal. Christmas Eve dinner had morphed into what it always was–a business gathering thinly disguised as a family celebration. I nursed my scotch, scanning the room filled with New York’s elite: board members, business partners, family associates. This year’s unwelcome addition: Jane Sinclair and her “daughter” Elle.
Elle hadn’t stopped watching me all evening, her gaze following my every move. I’d deliberately positioned myself across the room, limiting our interaction to a cold greeting hours ago.
My father worked the room with practiced ease while Uncle Gavin looked as uncomfortable as I felt. I accepted another drink from a passing waiter just as my phone vibrated. One glance at the screen made my stomach drop.
Sean.
He wouldn’t call during Christmas Eve unless something was wrong. Very wrong.
I stood abruptly, drawing curious glances as conversations died around me.
“Excuse me. I need to take this call, I announced, my voice cutting through the silence. “Please, continue.”
In a quieter corner, I pressed the phone to my ear. “What happened?”
“Brandon,” Sean’s voice was tight with tension. “We’ve got a situation. It’s Summer. She’s not in good shape.”
My grip tightened. “What do you mean? Is she hurt?”
“Not physically,” he replied. “Something went down at the Taylor house. I don’t know exactly what, but it’s bad.”
“Explain. Now,”
Sean lowered his voice. “We were playing chess with her grandfather when she went to use the bathroom. I found her later outside Richard’s study, completely shell–shocked.”
My heart accelerated. “And?‘
“Richard and Elizabeth Taylor came out of that room. Summer won’t tell me what she heard, but she practically collapsed afterward. She’s… Brandon, I’ve never seen her like this. She keeps saying she needs to see you. Only you.”
The pieces clicked. “She overheard something about herself.”
“I think so, Sean confirmed. ‘She’s barely holding it together.”
“Where are you now?”
Heading back to Manhattan. Brandon- His voice cut off with a curse. “Shit, she’s… Summer, hey, stay with me. You need to-
I’m coming now,” I cut him off. “Text me your location,”
1 pocketed my phone and turned toward the exit, only to find Elle blocking my path.
“Brandon, where are you going?” she asked loudly, drawing attention
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Chapter 300
I moved to step around her as my father’s voice cut through the silence.
Brandon. Where do you think you’re going?”
I faced him, keeping my expression neutral despite the urgency pounding through me. “I have business to attend to. I’ll be back
shortly.
My father’s eyes narrowed. “Business? On Christmas Eve? Whatever is can wait until tomorrow.”
“It can’t,” I replied, already turning away.
“Uncle Brandon!” Angela darted away from Sarah, her small shoes clicking against marble as she grabbed my pant leg. “Where are you going? Aren’t you going to play with me??
1 crouched to her level, the tension in my body momentarily softening. “Angela, sweetheart, Uncle has to take care of something important. I’ll be back soon to play with you, okay?”
Her bottom lip jutted out. “But you promised we’d build a snowman!
“And we will,” I assured her, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Just a little later than planned.”
“Can I come with you?” she asked hopefully.
I shook my head. “Not this time, princess.”
Sarah stepped forward, extending her hand to Angela. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s find some dessert.”
Angela motioned for me to bend closer. When I did, she planted a wet kiss on my cheek. “There! I’ve sealed it with a kiss. Now you have to come back soon!”
Despite everything, I smiled. “I promise, Angela. Uncle never breaks his word to you.”
As I straightened to leave, Elle lunged forward, wrapping her arms around my waist from behind.
“Brandon, please don’t go!” she cried, clinging to me. “It’s Christmas Eve! Whatever it is can wait!”
I went rigid. “Let go of me. Now.”
“No!” She tightened her grip. “I won’t let you leave!”
Whispers rippled through the room. I felt my control slipping. “I said, let go.”
“No, Brandon,” she insisted, her voice taking on that grating whine. You can’t just walk out on Christmas-
“Last warning,” I growled. “Take. Your. Hands. Off. Me.”
“I won’t!” she declared.
In one fluid motion, I broke her hold and spun around, my hand closing around her throat. I lifted her slightly–just enough that she had to balance on her toes–her eyes widening in shock.
Elle gasped and clutched at my wrist, her face rapidly flushing. “Bran” she choked.
“Brandon!” Jane Sinclair’s horrified scream cut through the stunned silence. She rushed forward, face ashen. What are you doing? Let her go! She’s your cousin!”
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A cold smile curved my lips. Cousin? Since everyone here, why dont we clarify the exact nature of my relationship with Elle Sinclair?
No! Jane gasped. “Brandon, please, not now
“What’s the matter, Mrs. Sinclair?” I drawled. “Afraid of what the family might hear?–
My father stepped forward, expression thunderous. “Brandon, release her immediately!”
Elle’s fingers scrabbled weakly against my hand. “Please,” she wheeze.
I leaned closer, my voice for her ears alone. “Are you afraid of dying, Elle? You should be. I’m offering you two choices–death, or a
fate worse
than death. Which would you prefer?”
Tears streamed down her face as she shook her head–frantically.
Elle mouthed my name.
“Don’t say my name,” I hissed. “Every time you say it, I want to wash my ears out with bleach.”
With a final surge of contempt, I released her, down her cheeks.
shoving her away. She collapsed in a heap, coughing and gasping, mascara streaking
“Brandon,” she rasped between desperate gulps of air. “You can’t mean this. You wouldn’t treat me this way.”
I removed my jacket, which her touch had contaminated, and dropped it on the floor. James appeared, silently offering a handkerchief. I wiped my hands as if removing something foul, then discarded the cloth next to my jacket.
“Try me,” I said coldly. “I won’t kill you–that would be too merciful. But I promise you this: cross me again, and I’ll make you wish for death as a release.”
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