White Knight Husband: Chapter 3

My mother had been pacing for twenty minutes. Fluttering around her room, she was wringing her hands like she was preparing to accept the award for the Most Anxious Human Alive. I leaned against the doorway, watching her and trying to reach for a shred of patience deep inside.

“Mom, we’re going to be late.”

“I know, I know,” Nora breathed, tugging open a drawer, then slamming it shut like there was a snake hiding inside. “Where is my lipstick? The one that doesn’t make me look tired. Jane, do I look tired?”

“You look fine.”

She did not look fine. She looked like a stressed, vibrating, one-winged bee, her hair half-curled and her blouse tucked on only one side, but if I said any of that out loud, we would never leave. Besides, this was as good as it got these days.

At least she finally found the lipstick, only to promptly forget she’d found it. Then remembered she’d forgotten, then panicked about forgetting in the first place.

I exhaled slowly, summoning all the skills I’d learned as a semi-professional crisis manager while simultaneously trying to keep myself calm. “Mom. We have to go. Now.”

Of all the things my mother had gotten in the divorce—this house, us kids, and twenty-five percent of Thayer Steelworks—stability was not one of them. Her world had collapsed with the investigation into my father and the subsequent trial.

Everything had come crashing down around her, and the public humiliation had destroyed whatever had been left. When the board had stepped in like a court-appointed babysitter, she hadn’t even had any reason to try to cling to control. So here we were.

Watching her now, it was hard to believe that she’d been a social tornado once upon a time. People used to beg for her attendance at galas, charity luncheons, and gallery openings. She’d flitted from one to the next without breaking a sweat.

She’d been at the height of her career as a socialite, the epitome of wealth and status. Now, her friends had faded, her invite list was gathering dust, and the winter gala season on its way was a constant reminder of how far Nora had fallen.

She could barely leave the house without a full meltdown. I watched her apply the lipstick, then start fretting with an earring, but I swallowed the frustrated sigh that tried to work its way out of me.

Part of me still blamed myself for how badly it had gotten. I hadn’t been here when everything had fallen apart. I’d been at Yale, finishing a PhD my father had thumbed his nose at. What’s a pretty girl like you going to do with an advanced degree, Jane?

He hated that I’d always strived to become the eldest son he’d really wanted, but I’d thought he would eventually leave me the company my great-grandfathers had built.

No such luck. So now, I was just going to have to take it. Somehow. As soon as I can stop holding the entire family together with duct tape and silent rage.

“Colin,” I called down the hall, pushing away from the master bedroom’s doorframe. “We’re leaving in five.”

He appeared in the hallway, tugging at the collar of his shirt, his tie looking like it was trying to choke him. “I’m ready, but she’s not, is she?”

“Nope.”

My brother let out a long, slow breath, then nodded, stopped fidgeting with his collar, and straightened his shoulders. Once he joined me, we both strode into the room where the once mighty Nora Thayer was still fluttering around like a startled bird.

“Mom.” I put my hands on her shoulders. “Shoes. Coat. Purse. That’s all you need. It’s just dinner. At someone’s house. Not even a restaurant.”

She blinked up at me in the reflection of her dressing table mirror, her steel-gray eyes much too wide. “I don’t even know why they invited us. They’re the Westwoods, Jane.”

Sure, now she was acting like they were the be-all and end-all, but in the past, she’d referred to them as “middle-aged” money. Our family had been in Chicago so much longer than theirs, and even though their money hadn’t been new enough to lock them out of our social circles entirely, she hadn’t gone out of her way to include them either.

I’d always thought the whole thing was ridiculous but now they were the reigning kings of this city and we’d been summoned, and she was fretting like we’d been granted an audience with an actual king.

“They’re just people, Mom,” I said calmly, inhaling and motioning for her to follow my lead. “You don’t have to speak. I’ll handle it.”

It felt like I’d been saying that my whole life, but a few minutes later, after approximately eighteen micro-panic attacks and one existential crisis about whether her earrings made her look approachable, I finally got her out the door and into Colin’s car.

I slid into the front seat, my very bones sighing with relief that we’d made it this far. Colin turned the key in the ignition and blew out a breath. “Okay. We can still be on time if we hit green lights.”

“With traffic?” I snorted. “It’s cute that you’re so optimistic.”

His eyes narrowed. “I’m nervous enough. Don’t mock me.”

“You’re the CFO of a multi-billion-dollar manufacturing company,” I reminded him. “You survived Dad. You’ll be fine having dinner with some bankers.”

“They’re not just that. They’re… whatever they are.” He paused. “At least Zach’s pretty cool.”

“Exactly. Just think of it as dinner with a friend’s family.”

“Yeah, okay. If your friend has the most intimidating family ever.”

“What’s so intimidating about them? It’s only the brother who’s the CEO now who’s in a higher position than you.”

“That’s the one I’m nervous about.”

I felt my face scrunch up. “Why?”

“He’s got that… power thing.”

“Power thing?” I arched an eyebrow at him. “That’s makes no sense whatsoever.”

“Sure, it does. You know exactly what I’m talking about. It’s that leadership aura. The vibe. The ‘I could run a small country’ energy.”

Ugh. But unfortunately, I did, in fact, know exactly what he was talking about because my mind flashed, very unhelpfully, to him. The stranger in the taxi with his snow-dusted hair, those unbelievably bright green eyes, and the smirk that had made me want to kiss him, murder him, or both.

I’d thought about him more times than I cared to admit since last week, which was ridiculous. Absolutely idiotic. I didn’t have time for attraction. I barely had time for sleep.

Still… God, the way he looked at me.

I clenched my jaw and forced my brain back to the present. “Westwood or not, it’s just dinner, Colin.” I cleared my throat. “Anyway, we need to talk about Uncle Andrew.”

Colin groaned. “Don’t say his name. I’ll get hives.”

“I’m serious. What’s he done now?”

He drummed his fingers anxiously on the steering wheel. “I almost wrote a letter to Santa like I was eight again, asking for him to drop dead.”

I laughed despite myself. “That’s festive.”

“It would’ve been a beautiful Christmas miracle. The board would have to put you in as CEO and all would be right with the world.”

“That’s dark.”

He scoffed. “It’s also true.”

I didn’t say what I felt, which was the same as him. I had that same hollow ache every morning when I woke up, the same twist in my ribs that told me everything that had happened in the last five years was just so fucking wrong.

But I swallowed it all down because protecting Colin was more important than voicing my own fears. Out of all five of my brothers, I was closest with Colin. We were only three years apart, and although he would never admit it, I knew he looked up to me.

All my brothers did, unfortunately. I hated it. Because it meant I couldn’t fall apart. I couldn’t scream or rage right along with them. I always had to keep it together. Growing up, while our parents had been busy with parties, money, and life in general, I’d had to step up.

It had often just been us when Dad had stayed at the office and Mom had been off in Manhattan, partying or attending some event for a foundation. I’d been damn proud when Colin had made CFO, but I knew he didn’t feel ready, even now, after a year in the role, and it had been a shitty year at that.

The fourth quarter had ended up being a killer in a bad way and Colin was taking the heat for it. As COO, I was responsible for keeping production and internal operations up to par, but that was easy compared to dealing with the investors now breathing down Colin’s neck.

So I lied. He didn’t need any more stress than he already had. “He just needs to find his footing. Andrew isn’t malicious. He’s just overwhelmed.”

I couldn’t tell Colin that I saw our uncle’s ambition gleam like a blade, aimed right at everything our father had built. Instead, I dug deep into the part of myself that had spent years twisting logic into politeness and anger into diplomacy.

“I honestly understand why the board didn’t vote me in.” My voice was steady, but I’d practiced this speech. “I’m young. I didn’t work for the company until recently. I spent my twenties in school. Slaving away. Sitting in lectures where I was the only woman and they called me ‘Legally Blonde.’ Everyone thought it was hilarious.”

Colin glanced at me, his jaw tightening, but I continued before he could interrupt.

“And I still graduated at the top of my class,” I said, grinning like a porcelain doll to hide all the cracks. “I thought that meant I could take over Thayer Steelworks, but Andrew made a better impression with the board.”

I didn’t look at Colin when I said it. If I did, I’d crumble, so I just winked in his direction. “Board shorts, flip flops, beer-stained Hawaiian shirt and all.”

Colin shook his head hard, staring out at the snowy road ahead like he wanted to drive straight through the storm and throttle our uncle with his bare hands. He didn’t say anything, but the silence radiated off him in thick waves, filling the car and frosting the windows.

I understood it, though. Andrew had spent his entire adult life, well into his sixties, on the beach in the Bahamas after barely graduating high school. The head of the table was the last place he should’ve been.

We turned down the long, winding drive toward the Westwood mansion, and even though I tried not to react, a familiar—recently familiar—heat crept into my cheeks. I forced myself to keep breathing normally, ignoring the way the sight of those stone pillars made my stomach dip.

The car crunched over fresh snow as we pulled up, and suddenly, a butler wearing an impeccable suit was rushing out to greet us. Doors were opened with practiced precision, our coats whisked away like our family wasn’t clinging to life support behind the scenes socially.

I’d gone to dinners before, meetings, and the occasional gala. Every once in a while, I would sit with the owners of the plants or shake hands with dignitaries, but I’d never dived this deep into Chicago’s wealthy social circles.

Not like this. Not inside one of the most powerful families’ private home.

Sure, I knew about the Westwoods. Who didn’t? They practically ran half the city, especially now that their young CEO had taken over shortly after I’d stepped into my role as COO. He was making all kinds of moves to expand the Westwood and Sons’ name into other industries.

Once we’d been swept into their ball-room-sized foyer, Zachary Westwood stepped forward to greet us with a bright smile, twinkling green eyes, and effortless confidence, his blond hair shining like the angels themselves were smiling down on him.

“Colin. Mrs. Thayer,” he said, sounding genuinely happy to see us. “You must be Jane.” He took my mother’s coat with perfect manners. “Welcome to our home.”

Home. Right.

Their family home looked like a museum and a cathedral had procreated and birthed this place. Everything gleamed, smelling faintly of cedar and wealth when he led us further inside.

Colin had pitched this as a friendly dinner, unrelated to business, but the second I caught the glint in Zach’s eyes, that hungry, calculating gleam, I knew that was bullshit.

He smelled blood and my family had been dead in that water for years, but I still followed behind Colin and my mom as Zachary led us through the lowest level of the house. Honestly, I was curious about what Colin and his friend had cooked up.

It was warm and candlelit in here, with shadows dancing along the stone walls. The storm outside made the glow feel almost romantic, like we’d stepped into a place where powerful families plotted futures over crystal glasses and imported wine.

Colin was right. This is pretty intimidating. But somehow, I managed to keep my back straight, my chin up, and my pulse steady. Until we entered the dining room. Then I froze, unable to convince my feet to keep moving.

Because the man rising slowly from his chair, blinking like he was as stunned as I was, was the same asshole who’d jumped in my cab last week. For a long moment, neither of us breathed, but then his lips twitched and not with an apology but with a goddamn grin.

Oh, hell no. It had just become official. This night was actually going to kill me.

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