All the Brayton Brothers Want Me

Chapter 10: Brandon’s Proposition

Diary Entry:

Date: September 12th

Time: 2:00 AM

Dear Diary,

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

-Ivy

The Brayton family gala was a glittering maze of tension and whispered secrets. Ivy clung to Alec’s arm as they made their entrance, her stomach churning under the weight of a hundred stares.

The chandeliers dripped with crystals, the air thick with the scent of champagne and money. Every guest was polished and poised, dressed in designer labels that probably cost more than Ivy’s entire life. The ballroom itself was stunning—tall, arched ceilings, massive floral arrangements, a live string quartet playing elegant music Ivy couldn’t name.

Alec walked beside her like he belonged there. Which, of course, he did. This was his world.

“Relax,” Alec murmured under his breath, his voice clipped and precise. “You’re overthinking.”

“Easy for you to say,” Ivy muttered back. “This is your world. I’m just trespassing.”

Alec exhaled sharply, adjusting his cufflinks. “You’re not trespassing. You’re my date.”

Ivy rolled her eyes. “Exactly. Your fake date.”

Alec shot her a warning look before nodding politely at a passing couple. “Keep your voice down.”

Despite everything, his grandfather wasn’t there.

Henry Brayton was the entire reason she was here. The billionaire patriarch who held their fates in his hands. Alec had been preparing for this, warning her that the man could sniff out a lie from a mile away. And now, after all the buildup, he was simply… missing.

“Where is he?” Ivy whispered as they moved toward the bar.

Alec’s expression was unreadable. “Not coming.”

Ivy stared at him. “You mean I put on this ridiculous dress and these even more ridiculous shoes for nothing?”

Alec’s lips twitched, barely a fraction of amusement. “Not nothing. People still need to see us together.”

She sighed, accepting the champagne flute a waiter handed her. She wasn’t much of a drinker, but if there was ever a night for alcohol, this was it.

The night dragged on, every second feeling like an hour. Alec was stiff, distracted, his attention constantly shifting between conversations. His posture was perfect, his suit sharp, but Ivy could tell his mind was somewhere else.

Genevieve was everywhere, floating between groups, laughing at the right moments, making eye contact with Ivy just long enough to make her uneasy.

Ivy needed air.

She slipped away, ducking into a quiet hallway, pressing her palms against the cool wall. She had barely exhaled when she felt him before she saw him.

Brandon.

He leaned lazily against the wall, his tuxedo slightly undone, his tie loosened like he couldn’t be bothered to care. His smirk was as sharp as ever, but there was something different in his eyes. Something focused.

“Running away already?” he teased. “I thought you were tougher than this.”

“I’m not running,” Ivy snapped. “I just needed a break from your circus.”

Brandon took a slow step closer, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Careful, sweetheart,” he murmured. “You keep talking to me like that, and I might start to think you don’t hate me as much as you pretend.”

Ivy scoffed, folding her arms. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Brandon chuckled, his gaze flicking over her like he was memorizing something. Then, his smirk faded. His voice turned softer, more serious.

“You’re wasting your time with Alec.”

Ivy’s stomach twisted. “Oh, great. This again.”

Brandon ignored her sarcasm. “He’s all rules and control. You don’t fit into his perfect little world.”

Ivy exhaled through her nose, her patience hanging by a thread. “And what? You think I fit into yours?”

Brandon tilted his head, considering. Then, he took another step forward.

“I know you do,” he said simply.

Ivy’s breath hitched.

“Switch sides,” he murmured, his voice like silk against steel. “Be with me instead.”

The air between them turned electric, and Ivy’s pulse pounded. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Brandon wasn’t joking. He wasn’t teasing.

He was serious.

Brandon stepped even closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“Think about it, sweetheart. Alec’s pretending. I’m not.”