Chapter 4 Chapter 4
Meanwhile, Bryson had just settled into the leather chair in his home office, a glass of Macallan in hand, when his phone buzzed across the desk. The name on the screen made one corner of his mouth pull in something that wasn’t quite a smile.
He swiped to answer. “I was going to call you tomorrow.”
“Sure you were,” Lila’s warm, slightly teasing voice replied. “Has my brother just… forgotten he has a sister? I could be on my deathbed, and I’d probably have to schedule an appointment through your assistant to hear from you.”
“I don’t need an assistant to tell me I love you, Lila,” Bryson said, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve just been busy.”
“That’s what you always say,” she said. “You’re running an empire, I get it. But empires have holidays and weekends, don’t they?”
“Not lately,” he admitted, taking a slow sip. “And my assistant quit on me today. Effective immediately.”
There was a pause. “Ouch. What are you going to do?”
“I don’t have to do anything. Carl already handled it.”
“Oh?” Her voice brightened with curiosity. “Who’d he dig up for you on short notice?”
“His wife,” Bryson said dryly. “Amelia Pierce.”
The silence on the other end lasted a beat too long before Lila spoke again. “You’re kidding.”
“No.”
“Wow,” she said, genuine surprise laced through the word. “I’ve never worked with her directly, but she’s everywhere in the charity scene. Arts programs, children’s organizations… she’s one of those people who actually puts in the hours instead of just showing up for the photo ops.”
Bryson stared into the amber liquid in his glass, thinking of the quiet, poised woman who’d stood beside Carl that afternoon. “Is that so?”
“Yes. In fact, I saw her today,” Lila said. “I had a meeting with one of the board members for the Children’s Art Collective — they’re one of the sponsors for her gala tomorrow. The venue was still buzzing when I left, and there she was, hauling tables in Jimmy Choos like it was nobody’s business. Not barking orders, not just pointing fingers — actually working.”
Bryson’s brows drew together slightly. Tomorrow night. So Carl had volunteered her to run point in his office on the same day she was hosting an event she’d probably been planning for months.
“And speaking of that,” Lila continued, “I’ve been hanging out with Claire a lot more recently.”
“Claire?” Bryson asked, his brow lifting. “Why does that name sound familiar?”
“Claire Harlow,” Lila said. “She’s Amelia’s best friend. Runs a PR firm and does a little interior design on the side. We met at that charity benefit you hosted eight or nine months ago—remember? Amelia was there too. Claire and I hit it off, and lately we’ve been getting coffee, grabbing lunches. She’s sharp, funny… and she promised she’d formally introduce me to Amelia.” Lila hesitated, then admitted with a laugh, “Honestly? I’m kind of a fan. Amelia’s everywhere in the charity scene, but she actually works. She sits on boards, consults with nonprofits, helps them secure grants and build programs that last. She’s the real deal, and I respect that.”
There was a warmth in Lila’s tone Bryson didn’t miss. His sister rarely gave anyone that kind of credit, which made her interest in Amelia even more striking.
Bryson leaned back, her words settling heavier than he expected. He remembered Amelia at that benefit — the quiet grace of the way she moved through a crowded room, how she seemed less concerned with being seen and more with making sure everything worked. He hadn’t realized she carried so much on her shoulders: the boards, the strategy, the consulting. For someone Carl brushed aside as ornamental, she was holding up entire programs, entire communities.
He took another sip of his drink, though the thought lingered longer than the whiskey.
“You’ll see her tomorrow then?” Lila asked.
“Looks that way,” Bryson said, swirling the Macallan in his glass. “Not sure she’s thrilled about it.”
“Well, maybe try not to scare her off on the first day,” Lila teased. “She’s one of the good ones.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, the corner of his mouth shifting in the faintest ghost of a smile.
“You won’t,” she said knowingly. “But I’ll pretend you will. Now, go do whatever CEOs do at night when they’re not answering their sisters’ calls.”
“That’s a short list,” Bryson replied. “Goodnight, Lila.”
“Goodnight, Bryson.”
When the call ended, the quiet of his office returned, broken only by the faint hum of the city beyond the glass. He leaned back in his chair, still thinking about Amelia Pierce — and the fact that Carl had dropped her into his world on the same day she’d have to pull off a gala. He didn’t say it aloud. But it stayed with him long after Lila had hung up.
