Make Me Yours: A BWWM Billionaire Love Story (14 page)

Meaghan just gave him a long sidelong glance to
let him know what she thought of his jabs. Bain and Dean barely got
along.

“
Please. Don’t make
me invoke the best friend contract article nine, line eight,”
she pleaded.

“
Oh fine, if you’re
going to bring the friend contract into it,” Bain said sounding
aggrieved. “But I’m bringing Daniel,” he warned.

“
You do that,”
Meaghan said. Daniel was Bain’s stripper boyfriend and even
though he was perfectly house trained and knew how to behave in
public, he was still a very flamboyant gay man who knew exactly how
attractive he was. It didn’t exactly make for shrinking violet
type behavior. Meaghan was happy to hear that Daniel would be coming.
Not only did they have excellent rapport, but he would be even more
of a misfit than she would be. They could watch each other’s
backs.

Beauty regime completed, it was
time for their weekly dinner. Bain had turned it into an elaborate
production in the last year, mostly to discourage any gate crashing
from their respective love interests. Neither Daniel nor Dean was
interested in hanging out at an Asian nail salon during rush hour or
dressing up in elaborate costume to go have dinner at
La
Trattoria
where they were likely not to
be joined by the proprietor, Luigi, who may or may not be half in
love with Bain. Meaghan and Bain enjoyed it though; it was an escape
from ‘real’ life and a chance to catch up that they
wouldn’t otherwise have what with their busy professional and
personal lives. Meaghan was busy juggling the attempt to become a
surgeon with walking the fine line between being Dean’s
girlfriend and not setting off an international incident by saying
the wrong thing at the wrong place at the exact right time. Bain was
busy building his architectural business by altering the skyline of
New York while artfully dodging Daniel’s attempts to get him to
the proverbial altar. He greeted the announcement that yet another
state had legalized gay marriage with trepidation.

Being together was like sanctuary from a world
that expected so much more of them than they were ready to give.

“
What’s the big
deal with this benefit anyway? Is it your first?” Bain asked
over a dinner of delicious lasagna and Luigi’s own vintage of
wine.

“
Well yeah, of course
it’s my first,” Meaghan began before Bain stopped her by
imitating a buzzer sound.

“
Nope you remember when
we were seventeen I took you as my date to that stray dogs benefit?”
Bain said.

“
It wasn’t a stray
dog benefit,” Meaghan said laughing, “it was a rescue dog
one.”

“
Po-ta-to, Po-tah-to,”
Bain replied dismissively. “The point is this isn’t your
first time hobnobbing with the gentry.”

“
Yeah but it
is
my first time as Dean’s girlfriend,” Meaghan qualified.

“
And that makes it
different why? He’s not exactly Pygmalion,” Bain said
contemptuously.

“
And Galatea I am not.
Still…he already has all this anxiety about his dad and his
company stocks; his mother already hates me. I guess we’re more
Romeo and Juliet without the teenage angst and suicide,”
Meaghan said speculatively.

Bain laughed. “Please, you guys are straight
out Acontius and Cydippe,” he said. Meaghan inclined her head
to the side.

“
I’m not sure I
know that one,” she said.

Bain sighed and rolled his eyes. “That’s
what you get for sleeping through literature classes…So the
highlights; Acontius was a young man from Chios who, at a festival at
Delos, fell in love with the Athenian Cydippe. He threw a coin at
her, and she picked it up and read, 'I swear by the temple of Artemis
that I shall marry Acontius...' By saying it aloud, she was obligated
to marry him. This myth reiterates how tradition—and male
aspirations—took precedence over female wishes, whatever they
may or may not be.” 

“
So you’re saying
Dean’s wishes take precedence over mine?” Meaghan asked
in disbelief.

“
I’m saying you’re
giving yourself anxiety attacks over a goddamned party Megs. A
party.” Bain emphasized looking Meaghan in the eye. “Since
when do you give a fuck about these things?”

Meaghan opened her mouth and then closed it again.
She was saved from having to make an immediate response by Luigi who
brought the dessert himself. It was tiramisu with gelato and it made
Meaghan’s mouth water even though she’d been sure not two
seconds ago that she couldn’t eat anymore.

Bain didn’t say a word; just let her tuck in
to her sweets until she couldn’t pretend to be absorbed
anymore.

“
I don’t know
what’s happening to me. I know this isn’t me,” she
said quietly.

“
It’s easy to lose
yourself when you think you’re in love,” Bain conceded.

“
I don’t
think
Bain. I know.”

“
No, I know you know…I
just…I’m saying he’s your first love and it’s
easy to get lost in that.”

“
I don’t want to
get lost,” Meaghan said putting down her spoon and wiping sauce
off the side of her mouth.

“
I know you don’t.
That’s what I’m here for,” Bain reassured her, hand
covering hers comfortingly.

“
I still need you to come
to the benefit,” Meaghan said smiling.

“
You know I’m there
for you honey,” Bain said spooning more chocolate gelato into
his mouth.

*****

Dean walked into his parent’s mansion
nodding in passing at the butler. He’d called as soon as Poppy
had left the house because Dean wanted to see his father but he
needed to avoid his mother. She was beyond tiresome with her tirades
about Meaghan and he just didn’t want to hear it anymore. The
butler, Reeves, had informed him that Poppy was out for lunch
followed by a Daughters of the American Revolution meeting. That
meant Dean had at least four hours before Poppy would be expected
back. 

“
Hallo father,” he
breezed as he stepped into his father’s room.

Jeffrey Wesson smiled delightedly at his son, he
was hooked up to a machine that helped him articulate what he wanted
to say but he was still learning to control it, so it was exhausting.
He tried to limit its usage to very necessary communications and just
continued with facial gestures otherwise.

“
How are you feeling?”
Dean asked as he came to sit by his father’s bed and take his
hand. Jeffrey shrugged as if to say ‘so-so’ and Dean
squeezed his hand.

“
It’ll get better,”
he said reassuringly. Jeffrey’s eyes drifted past Dean to the
door and then back to Dean again. He lifted his brow.

“
Who? Mom? Gone,”
Dean said with a small side smile. Jeffrey’s brow cleared and
then he beetled his brows as if censuring Dean.

“
Yeah I know. I need to
do something about that situation but I don’t see what I can do
right now short of doing what she wants me to do,” Dean
protested the unspoken plea to get along with his mother. Jeffrey
unbeetled his brow as if to ask why he couldn’t do
that.

“
I love her dad, this
isn’t just some teenage rebellion thing or whatever mother
thinks is going on. I can’t go back to Samantha. Can you
imagine meeting mother and then going back to whomever you used to
flirt with before you met her?” Dean asked with a bit of a
smirk.

Jeffrey’s eyes grew wry with agreement.

“
Anyway dad, I wanted to
tell you about the meeting I had with the De Beers people. I know
their reputation is solid but their methods were just the tiniest bit
shady and I wanted to run the whole thing by you to see if you agree
with me or if I am over-reacting,” Dean said.

Jeffrey nodded as if urging him to continue so
that is what Dean did. He explained about the meeting and what his
private investigator had found out about the company and its
directors.

“
It seems a pretty solid
deal although I have scheduled a meeting with several of their
collaborators just to see if they live up to the reputation,”
Dean said.

“
Board
of directors?”
the computer
microphone intoned.

“
Yeah, the board of
directors is on board with us partnering up with them, subject to
several quid pro quos as laid out by the legal and finance
departments. We’re scheduled for that meet after the benefit,”
Dean said.

Jeffrey raised his brows in inquiry.

“
Oh yeah, I forgot to
tell you about that. De Beers invited us to a benefit they’re
holding at the Museum of Modern Art. Something to do with helping the
victims of Blood Diamonds. It’s good PR as well as a worthy
cause.”

Jeffrey nodded his approval and
then computer intoned, “
Keep
me posted.”

Dean checked his watch. “Dad, I’d love
to stay longer but I really don’t want to run into Poppy so I’m
out of here. I’ll see you soon.”

Jeffrey frowned again as Dean looked up at him.

“
I’m really sorry
dad. I wish things could be better but for now…this is how
things have gotta be,” he said. The frown didn’t leave
Jeffrey’s face and Dean tried to figure out why.

“
Language”
the computer voice intoned.

Jeffrey stared uncomprehendingly at his father,
wondering what the hell he was talking about. He ran over what he’d
just said, looking for swear words or whatever it was that caused his
father to disapprove. The frown on his face slowly cleared as he
realized that he was talking like Meaghan, his words full of the
cadences of Queens. He’d been spending so much time with her,
and with her mother, and her family friend Mr. Henley that he was
starting to talk like them.

“
I’m sorry,”
he murmured to his father and then walked out quietly. As he tripped
down the stairs to his car he laughed softly to himself. He needed to
watch himself in the future around both his parents. He didn’t
need to alienate his father as well.

*****

Hey Dean darling, would you mind if we took a
rain check on the whole Friday night date night thing? I gotta go
home.

Meaghan texted Dean as she got
into work so she would have time to deal with all his sulky refusals
before the work day was at an end. She did not want him coming down
to the hospital to get her after work; she had a solid plan that
involved taking the train home and spending the evening with Mr.
Henley at his auto shop. She figured if she was going to ‘find
herself’ it was a great place to start. She’d spent a
good portion of her childhood studying in his office while classic
rock blasted from the speakers. He’d shaped her taste in music
and was responsible for at least a quarter of her values. Her mother
was at work; she had the night shift at the hospital so the house was
empty but Mr. Henley stayed at his shop sometimes until one in the
morning. They could catch up; maybe she could read as he worked on
the cars. Do his books for old times’ sake…Maybe she
would even meet some other interesting customer looking for a quick
fix for their ride that they didn’t want their rich friends to
know about. Meaghan smiled remembering in vivid detail the day that
she’d met Dean for the first time. He’d driven in with
his damaged Lamborghini and a wad of cash. Mr. Henley had been busy
so it was left to Meaghan to greet him. She hadn’t known who he
was but he remembered
her
.
She could still recall their conversation quite clearly.

She had been working late one night - or rather
she’d gotten caught up reading the Iliad while Bon Jovi blasted
from the speakers and she didn’t want to move - when a new
customer drove into the garage. She had looked down from the window
in the office that was at the top of a flight of stairs and saw that
the garage below her was deserted. Mr. Henley had said something
about going out for a smoke; no smoking was allowed in the garage
because it was a fire hazard and it was late so no-one else seemed to
be around. She had wondered what she should do; it wasn’t like
she could help the customer with his car…

He had alighted from the vehicle and Meaghan had
got a load of his full head of hair as he looked around for someone
to help him. He looked lost. The car was too expensive for this
neighborhood and the guy was too well dressed. Meaghan stood and left
the office, descending the stairs self-consciously as the guy watched
her come to him. She guessed there was nothing else to look at
really, but still she wished he would look away.

“
Hi. Can I help you?”
she’d asked him. Being up close and personal with him, and
standing on the same level had brought home to her how tall he was;
and well built. But not as old as she’d first thought when she
saw his clothes. No, he was closer to her age than the mid twenties
she’d assumed at his outfit. Fitted khaki slacks and blue
fitted shirt that looked tailor made for him. His dark hair was
windswept and untidy but that could have been because he’d just
alighted from a convertible…Lamborghini Aventador if she
wasn’t mistaken. His green eyes were so intent on her that she
felt like squirming but drew herself up instead and looked back at
him.

“
Where do I know you
from?” he’d asked ignoring her question.

“
What? I’m pretty
sure I don’t know you,” she had replied and then wondered
if that was rude and if Mr. Henley would be mad at her for being
brusque with his customers.