Page 148 of The Fiancée Farce
“Short notice?” Brooks arched a brow. “Gemma, darling, I booked the private loft yesterday when Tansy called your mother, who then called me.”
Her jaw went slack. “What?”
Tansy lifted her head, eyes twinkling as she bit her lip. “Oh, shoot. Did I forget to mention that part?”
She laughed. “I was wondering how you got into the building, let alone up to the twenty-sixth floor, and whyyou”—she turned to Brooks—“didn’t seem all that surprised. So everything you said to me this morning on the boat, you said knowing—”
“Tansy intended to crash the shareholders’ meeting and propose? Indeed I did. Granted, I couldn’t have known her gambit would work, but I hoped you’d be leaving the meeting at least an engaged woman, if not a married one.” His lower lip jutted out in a dramatic pout. “Also among the outcomes I couldn’t have expected was to walk out of the meeting as a C-level officer. Honestly, Gemma? How could you betray me like that?”
“Betray you? Oh, please.”
After Gemma had been declared president, the current—previous—COO had let his loyalties be known, making it crystal clear that he not only sided with Victor and Sterling and Tucker, but that he agreed with the plan to, if not sell the company, downsize and reduce employee benefits.
The second motion of the meeting had been replacing him with a new COO who would usher the company into a new and brighter future while still aligning with the values of the old.
Brooks had been named, and well... “Who was I to argue with the board and shareholders?”
“Do you know how hard I’m going to have to work? I’m already tired just thinking about it.” He sighed, eyes gazing off into the distance, expression forlorn. “This is going to cut into my time spent romancing your mother.”
“Cry me a river, old man.”
Brooks’s scoff bled into a laugh. “You’re awful.” He turned his attention on Tansy. “Tansy, I hope you know your wife is a holy terror and you have your work cut out for you.” He raised his glass to the table. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. As the new COO, I have a few calls I need to make that can’t wait a minute longer.”
Calls?Now?Gemma narrowed her eyes, nose finally attuned to the scent of Brooks’s brand of bullshit. “Uncle Brooks...”
“What? I intend to take my new roleveryseriously.”
Even Tansy snorted.
Brooks dropped the act, rolling his eyes. “Fine, yes, I was planning on calling Bitsie and leaving her a gloating voicemail. You caught me.” He backed away from the table. “Since I’ve been so expertly thwarted, I think I’ll call your mother. Maybe I’ll make plans to spend the weekend in Roslyn instead.”
Gemma grabbed her flute of champagne, raising it toward him. “As long as I don’t have to hear about it, have fun.”
“And wear a condom!” Max called out after him. Noticing Gemma’s scowl, he smiled sheepishly. “Not the proper sentiment?”
She let her expression do the talking for her.
“It seems, friends, that we are, sadly, out of champagne.” Teddy held the bottle upside down, nothing but a dribble escaping into the glass in front of Rochelle. “Another bottle for the table?”
“S’il vous plaît, mon petit bouchon.” Yvonne stood, tugging down her skirt. “Quelqu’un sait-il—désolé, does anyone know where the restroom is in this place?”
“I do.” Rochelle motioned for Max to move. “I’ll show you.”
Max slipped out of the booth. “You need a hand at the bar, Theodore?”
Teddy bowed his head. “As a matter of fact, I would love one, Maximillian.”
Gemma leaned in, lips grazing Tansy’s ear once they were alone. “Did you hear that? Apparently, your wife is a holy terror.”
Tansy turned, resting her forehead against Gemma’s. “I wouldn’t have her any other way.”
Epilogue
Two Years Later
“If all the single ladies could gather on the dance floor, please! All the single ladies to the dance floor! Our very beautiful bride is going to be tossing that gorgeous bouquet. Come on down, come on down! All you single ladies, if you ain’t got a ring on it, mosey on over to the dance floor!”
Tansy had never been so happy to be married in her life as she watched all the single women assembled on the bow of Brooks’s boat. Above, on the upper deck, Lena stood, beaming, holding her bouquet of black hellebore and honeysuckle, staring down at the crowd.
