A Bride for Two Mavericks (2 page)

Chapter Two

“And why am I supposed to care, Silas? You run out of the most important business meeting of our lives and I’m supposed to be impressed by some woman in pants?” Max stared at his younger brother with the dark, rage-filled look Silas should have found intimidating by now.

“Audrey Rousseau was here! At the store! She just waltzed right in to take a look like it was nothing. According to Mason, she drove. Alone. From New York.”

“I’ve heard no substantial evidence that there’s any truth to this, save that some crazy suffragette got her hands on her husband’s car and came over here.”

“Max, stop that. Women got the right to vote five years ago. It’s all been different since the war, and Audrey Rousseau is the epitome of how much things have changed.”

“Don’t start, Silas. I don’t want to hear about it. Rousseau’s a talent, there’s no doubt about it. But if you think I’m going to start selling women’s pants in my store, you are sadly mistaken. I don’t care who walks in the lobby wearing what. And I detest wasting our time with this when we have serious business to discuss concerning Michaelovitch.”

“I’m going to find her, Max. She’s here because of us, don’t you see? Why else would she drive more than a thousand miles to come to Dallas? Michaelovitch can hold his horses for a day or two.”

“Fine, then I will just sign your name to the contract.”

“Don't you dare. I just need some time, goddamn it. Why are you so quick to plunge into everything? Can't world domination wait until tomorrow?”

A moment of heavy silence settled over them.

“This is a once in a lifetime chance, Silas. Imagine it—five stores, with Jacqueline's name becoming famous all across the western world. No one's ever done that before. Each place could be more grand and elegant than the next. And we could both spend more time traveling, maybe even move to Paris.”

“You'd miss Male Order, believe me,” Silas retorted. Max was a Texas boy through and through, despite his deep hunger for global business conquest. If Max wasn't on a horse for even a day he began to get edgy. “Besides, I'm not saying I don't want this as much as you do. I just have to find Rousseau first. She's a sign, Max. And it's gonna pay off to keep Michaelovitch sweatin' just a bit. It always does.”

“You've got one week. And then we're moving forward, or I swear…”

“A week. Done.”

And with that, Silas slammed the door to the boardroom.

* * * *

Audrey peeled off her clothes and wrapped a robe around herself in the refreshing cool of her new home, the comfortable suite on the tenth floor of the Parkside Hotel. Despite visiting many luxurious hotels before arriving in this strange, brand-new city, she had never seen this kind of beauty before. Climbing upwards to her room just moments before, she marveled at the endlessly swooping upwards staircase wrapping languorously around a sparkling black and white checkered lobby, each floor a perfect swirl ascending higher and higher.

She was thrilled when the bellhop revealed her room, the perfect space she needed to recover herself, complete with a massive tub and vanity. Silk seemed to drape every surface, and she opened her balcony doors to let in the warm September breeze, still holding more than a hint of the scorching Texas summer she’d read about before making the long journey.

As she drew a hot bath for herself, she smiled as she recalled the image of Silas Abrams in her rearview mirror as she sped away from Jacqueline’s several hours before. She couldn’t be sure, but she could have sworn he might have even broken a sweat chasing after her.

The image could be described as nothing less than charming. There he stood, out of breath but still as dapper as his image in the magazine, his stunning blond hair shining without a hat atop his head. He smiled and casually gave a half wave to Audrey as she pulled away as if to let her know this wouldn’t be their last encounter. The look on his face told her he enjoyed this little game she had begun, that he would enjoy tracking her down.

Letting her robe fall to the floor, she smirked when she considered how this might play out. How could they be mutually beneficial to each others’ budding international careers? What did they have that she wanted, and what could she offer them? She imagined Silas in his perfectly pristine cream suit, the picture of the modern man. But where was Max, the other half of this mysterious, powerful duo?

From the
Vogue
photo spread, she knew Max shied away from the trends Silas would devour with a spoon. His rugged sensibilities screamed Texas, and it seemed entirely fitting the older brother would wear black from head to toe. His attire almost reminded her of someone in mourning. Could he be dressing that way in remembrance for someone? His clothing contained no embellishment except for one concession. He wore his pants tucked into his boots to display elaborate cowboy boots, painstakingly embroidered with an ornate geometric design.

The contrasting styles echoed in Audrey’s brain as she settled into the tub for her restorative soak after the weeks of travel. As she sunk deeper and deeper into the water, her brain became foggy with slumber as the thoughts continued radiating through her. Images of Max and Silas echoed in her brain, two mysterious and intriguing sides of the same coin.

As her body unraveled in complete relaxation, she opened her eyes and smiled.

It’s perfect
, she thought happily to herself.
Time to get to work.

* * * *

“Where is she, Mason? I’ve made a call to every respectable hotel in this godforsaken town and she is nowhere to be found!” Silas threw his chair back from his desk and crossed towards the windows, gazing out onto the growing skyline of Dallas lit up in the night. Hotels, each taller than the last, seemed to be cropping up left and right these days, and Silas simply couldn’t keep track of them any longer.

“Sir, you must be patient. I can’t recall the last time I saw you in such a state.”

Silas took a breath and turned back to Mason. “This could be very important for our business, that’s all. I’m afraid I will miss my window to meet her, and she’ll never return to Dallas. She must be here for a reason, and I have to find out if it has to do with the store.”

“With all due respect, perhaps she doesn’t want to be found right now. She’ll reveal herself when she’s ready. Isn’t she the type of woman who knows what she wants? She certainly seems like the fearless type,” Mason replied with his typical clear-headed calm.

“I can say with all my confidence there has never been a woman like Audrey Rousseau.”

“Not even Miss Jacqueline, sir?”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, Mason. And I resent you bringing her up right now.” Silas fumed at the comparison to the woman he and his brother had loved and lost three years prior. He was chasing Miss Rousseau. There was no doubt about it. And although he couldn’t pretend an attraction to her wasn’t out of the question, this was unmistakably business. Besides, save for an article here and there in
Vogue,
he had barely seen her beyond a glimpse as she made her getaway
.
This was unmistakably about her talent and her vision. The designer could be the Abramses’ finest ally, possibly helping the store more than even Michaelovitch could. And he liked the thought of shaking off the Russian’s influence on his brother.

“My sincerest apologies. I didn’t mean to pry, Silas.”

Despite Mason’s technical job description as butler and personal assistant to both brothers, Silas despised the title and any distance between them. Mason had been like a grandfather to both of them, especially after their own parents had been killed in a train accident when Max and Silas were just fifteen. He had worked for the Abrams family his entire life and cared for the boys since they'd been born.

“It’s all right, Mason. I know how close you were to Jackie. We all miss her. Do you think that’s why Max was so angry with me when I ran out of the meeting with the Russian?”

“I think Max was angry because you acted rather abruptly, sir.” Mason gave Silas a pat on his shoulder and looked him square in the eye. “I’m sure Miss Rousseau will emerge from her hiding place. It has only been two days, after all. Let her adjust to this new place. I am sure it must be quite a lot to take in, wouldn’t you agree? Take care of your business, spend some time at home, and I’m sure you will have your answers within no time.”

“Thank you, Mason,” Silas answered half-heartedly, trying his damndest to listen to the good advice. He filled his mind with menial work, digging into a thick stack of untouched mail delivered that morning.

Home
, he thought to himself as he absent-mindedly tossed letter after letter into the garbage. The concept of home as a place of rest and relaxation didn’t hold exactly the same definition these days, not since Jackie died three years ago on the terrible night that changed the Abramses’ lives indelibly. Since then, Max had poured every ounce of his spirit first into rebuilding The Arches from the ground up and then designing project after project in their hometown, Male Order, and Dallas.

Silas always admired his brother’s work ethic, but a new house and department store had been just the beginning. Already nearing completion were a movie theater, a marketplace and a ballroom for their beloved hometown. Max planned to finish them all within a month. Silas loved to imagine the future of Male Order, quite an evolution since their grandparents had helped found the community. But at this pace, how long could his brother, the only family he had left, last?

Silas mourned in his own way, taking on new and more extravagant hobbies and adventures. The speed of the road and the exhilaration of flight were the best elixirs he could imagine. If work would consume his brother and keep them from healing the past, Silas would be damned if he stuck around to see Max fall apart. He'd rather be in the air.

A thick envelope at the bottom of the pile of mail awoke him from his thoughts. How had he missed this earlier?

He tore it open and spread the contents out across his desk. Ten perfectly rendered designs looked back at him, and the drawings were almost eerie. The men in each image bore an uncanny resemblance to both Silas and Max, and the fashions meticulously revealed on each page accomplished an unthinkable feat. One by one, the designer had taken pieces from each of the Abramses' personal styles and blended them into one collection. It was almost shocking to look at the meticulous detail, the gorgeous, contemporary lines perfectly blended with the traditions of western dress.

A small handwritten card peaked out from underneath the last drawing.

What do you think? Meet me at the Parkside Restaurant at eight o'clock sharp. Fondly, Audrey Rousseau

Silas looked at his watch. It was nearly nine. He rushed out the door without a second thought.

Chapter Three

“Miss Rousseau, what a pleasure it is to finally meet you.” The slight drawl of Silas Abrams' voice roused Audrey from her meditative state, her nose buried in her sketchbook.

“Mr. Abrams, I presume? I was beginning to doubt you would show up,” Audrey replied with a furrowed brow. She took a long slow sip of coffee. “If I had known you planned to arrive an hour late, I might have waited to take my dinner.”

“My sincerest apologies, Miss Rousseau. May I join you at your table?” Silas did look genuinely sorry, but Audrey hated to be kept waiting, and planned to rub it in a bit.

“I've finished for the evening, Mr. Abrams, and was frankly planning to retire shortly. I was under the impression you wouldn't be coming tonight.” Audrey tried to contain her hurt and remain professional, but she could hear the frustration ringing in her own voice. Her excitement about meeting and engaging with the younger Abrams had waned, and only the tension between them remained.

Audrey grabbed her handbag and tried to make her way towards the exit, but Silas stepped in front of her, putting a physical barrier between her and the door. As he stood in front of her, her body couldn't help but react to his form looming above her.

There was no denying he was breathtaking to look at. His shining azure eyes were filled with remorse, and he was still a bit out of breath from rushing to get to the hotel. Had he actually run? Despite his gently heaving chest, his suit was impeccably in order, creamy linen cut close to his muscled body from head to toe. He wore a cotton flat cap and a slim leather jacket, clearly his driving costume.