enjoyebooks Chapter 2: Meet the Playboy
Chapter 2: Meet the Playboy
Diary Entry:
Date: September 3rd
Time: 10:30 PM
Dear Diary,
I met the rest of the Brayton brothers tonight. If Alec was bad, Brandon was worse. He was shameless, cocky, and thought he was God’s gift to women.
Then there was Callum—the quiet, scary one. He didn’t even have to speak to make me feel like I was under a microscope.
Alec dragged me into their chaos, but Brandon and Callum were determined to rip me apart.
-Ivy
Alec hadn’t asked if she wanted to come to family dinner. He had told her.
“You need to be there,” he had said as they walked through the towering double doors of the Brayton estate. “The more people who see us together, the less anyone will question it.”
Ivy hadn’t replied. She had been too busy staring at the sheer, obscene wealth surrounding her. The house—no, the mansion—looked like something out of a billionaire’s fantasy. High ceilings, chandeliers bigger than her entire childhood bedroom, floors polished so perfectly she could see her own stunned reflection.
And then there had been Brandon Brayton.
He had lounged in the doorway like he owned the place—technically, he kind of did—watching her with an easy, amused smirk. His blond hair had been effortlessly messy, and his black button-down had hung open just enough to show a hint of golden skin underneath.
“So,” Brandon had drawled, eyes dragging over her with slow, lazy interest. “You’re Alec’s girlfriend?”
Ivy had folded her arms. “You say that like it’s a conspiracy theory.”
Brandon’s smirk had widened. “I’m just impressed. You must be a great actress.”
Her jaw had clenched. “And you must be the reason people hate rich kids.”
He had barked out a laugh, like she had just made his entire night. “Oh, I like her,” he had said, shooting Alec an entertained look. “Too bad you don’t share.”
Alec had ignored him, already heading toward the dining room. “Let’s get this over with.”
Dinner had been a disaster.
Alec had been stiff and serious, answering questions with one-word replies, while Brandon had spent the entire meal whispering inappropriate comments under his breath.
“So, Ivy,” Brandon had said as she had picked at her food. “How’s Alec in bed? I imagine he keeps his spreadsheets nearby. Maybe some color-coded notes?”
Ivy had choked on her wine. Alec hadn’t reacted, but the muscle in his jaw had tightened.
Meanwhile, Callum had said nothing. But he had watched.
Every time Ivy had moved, she had felt his gray eyes on her.
When Alec’s uncle had asked how long they had been together, Ivy had panicked. She had blurted out the wrong date—off by two months—and the moment the words had left her mouth, she had known.
Callum had tilted his head, his fork clinking against his plate. “You’re lying,” he had said bluntly.
The table had fallen silent.
Brandon had leaned forward, grinning like a cat that had just found a mouse. “Nice try, Alec, but Grandpa won’t be joining us tonight. You can send your fake, gorgeous girlfriend home.”
Alec’s knuckles had gone white around his wine glass, but he had said nothing.
After dinner, Ivy had headed for the door, but Brandon had gotten there first.
He had leaned against the wall, blocking her path. “Word of advice, sweetheart,” he had murmured, his voice dropping just for her. “Alec’s all about control. But me?” He had reached out, fingers grazing the sleeve of her dress. “I like to have fun.”
She had ripped her arm away. “Not interested.”
Brandon had grinned. “Oh, Ivy. That wasn’t an offer. It was a warning.”
She had stormed past him, only to have Callum step into her path.
Unlike Brandon, Callum hadn’t touched her. He hadn’t even smirked.
He had just stared.
“You’re lying,” he had repeated, his voice calm but sharp enough to slice through her.
Ivy’s throat had tightened.
“I’ll prove it,” Callum had said, then walked away, leaving the promise hanging in the air.