I tilt my head in confusion. “Griffin said he has brothers,” I point out.
“Oh, they aren’t mine,” Rachel informs me in a casual tone. “Griffin’s the only one that’s mine.”
I glance at Griffin.
He nods. “We’re technically all half-brothers, but we call each other brothers.”
“You confused her,” Rachel says. “It’s important to be correct.”
“Which is why I call them brothers.” His voice is pained.
“I’m sorry about his tone,” Rachel says to me. “He gets grumpy for no reason. He was having one of his temperamental moments at the party.”
I stare at her, then Griffin as the implication of what she just revealed rolls through my mind. The rude guy at the party was Griffin?
“Did you realize we’d met before when you came to the company?” I ask him.
He props his elbow on the table and covers his face with a hand. His eyebrows are pinched tight, and his eyes are closed, like he’s dying of a migraine. “Yes.”
“So why didn’t you say something?”
The muscles in his jaw bunch and flex. “Because I don’t want people to know that I was at that birthday party.”
“Griffin is still a teenager in some ways,” Rachel says. “He’s continually embarrassed about his—”
“Mother.” Griffin opens his eyes, pinning her with a piercing look. He presses his lips together, like he’s trying to contain cutting remarks.
Rachel clears her throat. “But he’s not all bad,” she says with a slightly awkward laugh. “He’s so good about answering my calls and coming to my rescue and making sure I’m all right. As a matter of fact, several weeks ago, he flew out to New Orleans so he could escort me to a party.”
“Mother,” Griffin says again, his tone glacial.
If he used that voice with me, I’d probably pause. But Rachel’s immune. Must be the Mom Shield™.
“There’s no need to be shy. Women like it when men are nice to their mothers.” She turns to me. “Don’t you agree?”
“Yes,” I say. “A guy who disrespects his mother will treat his significant other the same way.”
Rachel beams at Griffin. “See?” She looks at me. “Anyway, if it hadn’t been for Griffin, I would have been devastated. I couldn’t imagine going to a party without a date. It would be so gauche. Especially a masquerade party in New Orleans.”
I nod, although I don’t understand why she would have to have a partner for a masquerade event. It isn’t like anybody was going to recognize her, provided she had the right mask and covered her hair with a wig.
“But he was such a good sport about it. I was so distraught over my date standing me up that I totally forgot to tell Griffin to bring something little bit more casual for the party. So he ended up wearing a suit and a black mask. Thank God his suit was black so everything matched. I can’t be seen with a man who can’t dress himself.”
A black suit and mask?Shock cascades over me. What she’s saying describes the Midnight God.
“Anyway, he stayed until I could find myself some suitable company to hang out with. As nice as it is to be escorted by my son, I needed a date. And, of course, I’m sure he wanted to hang out with someone else, too.”
“When was this party?” I ask, my gut tight.
“I can’t remember the exact date. My assistant would have it. But it was quite the memorable night. They had these alligator hors d’oeuvres, the most amazing selection of men, and they had these sex-lube samples. They tasted like actualchocolate. I didn’t know lube could taste like that. I wish you’d been there. You would’ve loved them.”
Oh my God!I cover my mouth. That was the masquerade party that I went to! “Those samples came from Silicone Dream. My company. And I was at the party.”
“Really? What a small world!” Rachel laughs.
“I know.” I look at Griffin, who is studying me closely. Excitement bubbles like the finest champagne, effervescent and shivery. “I was wearing a purple wig that night.”
“You must’ve looked adorable!” Rachel says. “Do you have pictures?”