He’s teetering on unsteady feet, laughing so hard I fear one more good chuckle might send him careening face-first off the stage.
“Chase,” I whisper. “You have to stop him.”
His hand tightens on mine, but he doesn’t stand.
“Which is really the reason we’re all here tonight, isn’t it?” Jameson continues. “To welcome our new CEO. Mynephew.And a better man than I ever was — a fact he’s reminded me of many times!”
The mockery in his voice is unmistakable. Chase’s grip grows so tight, my finger bones start to ache.
“Chase, my boy, where are you?” Jameson calls, turning to face the table. “Come up here!”
For a second, no one at the table moves. I don’t think anyonebreathes.
“Chase,” I whisper, squeezing his hand.
He looks at me, the pure dread in his eyes making my heart still.
“You don’t have to do this,” I tell him, my voice low. “If you want to run…just say the word and we’re gone.”
I see indecision flicker in his eyes for less than a second, before they flatten into hard, emotionless disks. He’s utterly silent as he leans forward and plants a soft kiss on my cheek, then rises to his feet and crosses the stage with unhurried steps. Looking at him, you’d never know how much hurt hides beneath that mask of indifference.
Polite applause ushers him toward his uncle. I watch him go, my stomach tied in nervous knots.
“Here he is!” Jameson cheers, grabbing Chase in a stiff-looking handshake. “My boy! Theunprodigal son! The heir-unapparent. The man taking over for me, when they send me home to die.” He chortles loudly at his own joke, perhaps to compensate for the fact that no one else is laughing. “With him at the helm, it’s hard to say who’ll be in the ground first — me or my company!”
I wince at the crass joke — if you can even call it that.
There are murmurs of concern spreading through the audience, rippling out from the tables nearest the stage to the back reaches of the ballroom. Jameson has surpassed good-naturedly drunk and gone straight to mean — and I’m not the only one who’s noticed.
“Now, Chase, here, he’s been more than a nephew to me,” Jameson slurs, a lopsided grin on his lips. “He’s really more like a so—”
In a quick move, Chase reaches out and grabs the microphone from its stand, cutting Jameson off mid-sentence. With a sharp nod to the nearest waiter, Chase signals for his uncle to be led back to his seat. It’s a small mercy that Jameson is so drunk, he doesn’t even put up a fight as they steer him away.
“Let’s give my uncle a hand,” Chase says into the microphone, his voice revealing none of the anger I’m sure is thrumming through his system at the moment. Personally, I’d rather gouge my eyes out than applaud his uncle’s words, but with the silence dragging on and Chase standing there at the microphone with the whole room watching, like he’s some kind of exotic zoo animal, there’s really no other choice. I lift my hands and start to clap, the sound of my palms slapping together shattering the quiet of the ballroom. Chase’s eyes find mine for a fraction of a second, and I see a message in his gaze.
Thank you.
My heart clenches and I clap harder. After a second, another set of hands joins mine. My eyes follow the sound across the table to Phoebe, who’s applauding for all she’s worth. I smile, she winks, and a small eternity later, the rest of the reluctant audience joins in as well, until the whole room is vibrating with thunderous, wholly-undeserved applause.
“Thank you.” Chase’s deep voice carries out across the room, instantly silencing our claps. “I’m not one for speeches on the best of nights, and this one has been particularly long. So I’ll keep this brief.” His voice is steady, unflinching, as he looks out over the crowd. “I’m a Croft. Even in the years I most wanted to, I could never change that fact.”
I watch a muscle jump in his cheek, and I lace my hands together beneath the table to keep from fidgeting.
“You don’t always like your family, you sure as hell don’t get to pick them, but that doesn’t change a damn thing.” He swallows hard. “This name I carry, this company my grandfather built from nothing — it’s not something I can walk away from. It’s a commitment. It’s a blood oath — one I intend to honor.”
There’s total silence — everyone’s watching Chase command the room with rapt attention. Even Brett, though his expression is less awed than angry.
“You don’t know me. Some of you might think you do, but I’m not the person you knew when I left five years ago. I’ll readily admit, the boy I used to be failed to measure up in many ways. But I hope you won’t judge the man I’ve become on the same yardstick. I hope you’ll give me a chance to prove I’ve changed.”
I feel my heart turn in my chest as I watch this man — this amazing, heartbreaking man — stare down the people who’ve been judging him mercilessly all night.
“I may not be your choice. I may not even be the best man for this job. But it’s mine.” His eyes find mine again, and my breath catches at the intensity of his gaze. “And I protect the things that belong to me. Always.”
Always.
His final word is still reverberating from the speakers when Chase turns his back on the crowd, crosses to the table, and tugs me to my feet. I don’t even have time to ask what’s going on because, before I know it, he’s pulled me off the stage and is leading me through the ballroom so fast, the people at the tables around us are nothing more than smears of color in my peripherals.
“Chase,” I hiss.