Chapter 296: He Looks Like A Peacock

Chapter 296: He Looks Like A Peacock
"Is that James Thornton?" Dan asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Of Thornton Group?"

I nodded, unable to suppress a small smile as James approached our table.

"Mr. Grande," James extended his hand, his voice smooth but his eyes calculating. "What a pleasant surprise."

Dan stood quickly, switching to professional mode. "Mr. Thornton, good to see you again."

"I believe we met at the Whitney benefit last year?" James set his ridiculous bouquet on an empty chair. The flowers took up more space than an actual person.

"Yes, briefly." Dan cleared his throat. "I wanted to thank you for considering our firm for the Norwood acquisition project. It's an incredible opportunity."

"We only work with the best," James replied, his hand coming to rest possessively on my shoulder. "I understand your son and my daughter are classmates?"

Dan's expression shifted from professional to shocked in an instant. "Your daughter?" His eyes darted between us, understanding dawning. "Harper is your daughter?"

"Yes," James confirmed, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "Our twins attend Winthrop Academy."

The look of realization on Dan's face would have been comical if I didn't feel so bad for him. He glanced at his watch with exaggerated concern.

"I should really be going," he said, pulling out his wallet. "Sam and I have plans this afternoon."

"The meal is on the house," I assured him. "Consider it an apology for the misunderstanding."

Dan nodded gratefully and made a graceful exit, though not before throwing one last bewildered glance our way.

As soon as he was gone, James picked up Dan's bouquet from where it rested in a vase on the table.

"Get rid of this," he said to a passing server.

"James!" I protested. "The flowers didn't do anything wrong."

"They're taking up table space," he replied stubbornly, replacing them with his own extravagant arrangement.

"What now?" James sighed, his fatigue suddenly visible beneath the confident exterior. "These business trips are becoming unbearable. I can't focus knowing someone might be sending you flowers or arranging 'playdates' with eligible fathers." 

"Isn't that a bit dramatic?" I asked, amused by his possessiveness despite myself.

"The twins still refusing to forgive me?" James asked, the question he texted me multiple times daily now spoken aloud, his eyes betraying how much the answer mattered to him.

"They haven't budged," I sighed, equally frustrated. After six years apart, James and I had finally found our way back to each other, yet we couldn't openly be together. Every date had to be arranged in secret, every moment stolen. The minute the children suspected James was visiting, they'd retreat into cold silence and pointed rejection. It was exhausting. 

"So I'm still banned from your place tonight?" James asked, a hint of genuine suffering in his voice. His physical frustration was becoming increasingly obvious too; we'd gone from passionate reunions to stolen moments like teenagers hiding from parents. 

"I could come to your apartment," I offered. 

"And then what? Sneak back before dawn like a college student breaking curfew?" James shook his head. "I can't let you exhaust yourself like that. This isn't sustainable."

"What's your alternative?" I challenged. 

"I want to meet with your father," he stated, his expression resolute.

I tensed. "Liam's impossible to reach these days. He's traveling constantly." Not to mention that every time I tried to discuss James with him, my father would suddenly develop mysterious "connection problems" or urgent meetings that couldn't wait. I'd spent weeks trying to arrange a conversation about James, but Liam had mastered the art of topic avoidance with the skill of a professional politician.

James leaned forward. If you can't reach him, someone else can."

I frowned. "Who?"

"Nathan."

"Even if that's true, Nathan isn't exactly Team James either," I pointed out. "What leverage could you possibly have with him?"

James's expression shifted to something unreadable. "Charlotte Bennett is back in the United States."

I stared at him, memories flooding back. Charlotte had been Nathan's great love—the one woman who'd managed to break through my brother's carefully constructed walls. Their breakup six years ago had devastated him, though he'd never admit it. Since then, Nathan had thrown himself into his work, building his private equity firm into a financial powerhouse while avoiding any hint of romantic entanglement.

Part of me wanted to object on principle, but after weeks of watching James try and fail to reconnect with our children, I couldn't find it in me to judge his methods. The twins' continued rejection was wearing him down, and by extension, wearing us down too.

"Fine," I said finally. "Do what you need to do."



Two days later, I found myself curled up on the sofa with the twins, supposedly watching cartoons, but my attention was diverted to my phone where I was livestreaming the Wall Street Top 100 Awards ceremony. James and Nathan had both been nominated for leadership awards, and according to the seating chart, they'd been placed side by side—likely due to their companies' recent collaborative ventures.

What I hadn't expected was James's behavior.

"Mom!" Harper shrieked suddenly, pointing at the screen. "Look at James! What is he DOING?"

I glanced up to see James leaning over to pour water into Nathan's empty glass—a simple gesture, except for the painfully eager smile plastered across his face. Nathan's expression was a masterclass in barely concealed annoyance.

"He's just being polite," I murmured, but even I couldn't quite believe it.

Theo pushed his glasses up his nose, squinting at the screen. "That's not polite, that's weird. He looks like that peacock from the nature documentary—you know, the one trying to get a mate."

Harper exploded into giggles. "Oh my GOD! Look, now he's trying to fix Uncle Nathan's tie! Uncle Nathan looks like he wants to die!"

True enough, James had reached over, apparently intending to straighten Nathan's already impeccable tie. My brother had jerked backward so quickly he'd nearly toppled his chair, drawing curious glances from neighboring tables.

"James looks different," Theo observed. "At the office, does he smile that much? It's kind of scary."

"He's probably too busy intimidating people at work for anyone to tell him his smile is creepy," Harper added with the brutal honesty unique to five-year-olds.

I bit my lip, torn between secondhand embarrassment and genuine amusement as James continued his campaign to win over my brother. He offered appetizers, made conversation, and even reached out at one point with a napkin—presumably to wipe something from Nathan's face—before my brother's death glare stopped him mid-motion.

Harper stood up on the sofa, striking an exaggerated pose with her chin tilted up. "'Nathan, hello, I'm James, I'm the most awesome CEO, but now I need your help so I'll keep pouring water until you say yes!'"