CHAPTER 549: YOU’RE NOT GOING TO LET THIS GO, ARE YOU?

Thornston Wineries HQ....

It’s been a few days since that surprise engagement arrangement of the Thornstons and the Carmichaels. Within that time, the news had been adequately spread in their circles as well as the mainstream media, and the hype was on! The wedding was scheduled to take place the next day, and all of it still felt surreal to Brad and the other involved parties.

Brad sat in his office on the winery premises, Erik standing behind him, his hand outstretched with a file that Brad needed to sign. However, Erik was getting no response from Brad, making Erik wonder what his boss was thinking. He had been zoning out a lot in the past days and Erik was helpless against it.

Brad, not really aware of his surroundings, leaned back in his swivel chair, fingers drumming against each other. His mind wandered back to the evenings before, especially the previous night.

He had lain in bed long after his lights were off, arms tucked behind his head, a faint smile playing on his lips like it had snuck in and refused to leave.

This was different from his usual smile, which was always in place. That was a fixed, ’polite-ish’ one for the onlookers, but this new smile came directly from his soul.

He had stared at the ceiling, the room quiet except for the hum of the AC.

"I’m getting married," he had whispered to himself, grinning like a lovesick fool. "To her."

Brad turned to his side, the sheets crumpling around him as he stared at the wall with an unfocused, dreamy look, occasionally thinking back to the first time he had seen Alicia.

"Pfttt!!! Brad Thornston is actually getting married, and he likes it! Who would believe this!? .... I wouldn’t even have believed this a month back."

Brad had spent the entire days after this announcement or arrangement acting indifferent — casual nods, professional tone, no over-excitement in his voice. But here, in the privacy of his room, away from amused family and a teasing subset of them, the act fell away.

He smiled wider and even laughed softly at himself.

If anyone had walked in at that moment, they’d never believe this was the same man who had been at the breakfast, stupefied. ... and the fact that he had even turned down a blind date with her, waving off Carmichael’s suggestion with a cool, firm, and even cold, "Not interested in matchmaking, thanks."

Wasn’t fate quite petty — and brilliant?

"Well, Thanks, Fate! She’s really going to be mine," he said softly. "If I have to do this matchmaking, arrangement thing, it’s better to be her than anyone else!"

Then he hugged his pillow, just once, and closed his eyes with the satisfaction of a man who had unwittingly walked into the very trap he now thanked the stars for.

The door in his office creaked open, interrupting his thoughts and finally bringing him back to his presence, and in stepped the familiar figure of Mr. Carmichaels, exuding the unmistakable appearance of a father, now absolutely full of himself and smug about it.

In one hand, he held a travel mug of coffee; in the other, the self-satisfied grin of a father who had won a long game — even if by accident. Carmicheals was even amazed at how swift Geneva and Ian had dealt with this. It was like most business deals Ian handled —quick, flawless and clean.

Erik closed the file and stepped back to give the new family duo time to talk. He quietly excused himself, but the two were not paying attention at all. Brad looked up and froze for a split second.

He knew that look.

"You’re not going to let this go, are you?" Brad asked with a groan, already rubbing his temple.

"Nope!" Mr. Carmichaels said, sliding into the chair across from him as if he owned the place. "I mean... It’s not every day that I get Brad Thornton to go back on his own words. I must savour every moment of it. You refused the match, but fate? Ah, fate plays chess, my boy."

Brad had no counter for this, for his father-in-law was right in this. They had decided to have a big family dinner after the ceremony, but aside from that, all arrangements were being made by Erik and Suzie, with Currey assisting where needed.

Brad leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh. "You ambushed me with that ’blind date’. I politely declined. And somehow, my mother was able to pick out your daughter of all people and convince her to accept this?"

Carmichaels added dramatically. "And next thing I know, she’s walking back into my house with a shiny rock on her finger and you in tow. Tell me again how I didn’t win?"

The younger man narrowed his eyes, though a reluctant smile tugged at his lips. "You planned this, didn’t you?"

The older man shrugged. "Don’t think I don’t know you. You like her, but just don’t want to admit it!"

There was a long beat. Then they both chuckled — the older man with mischief, the younger with weary amusement. Both decided not to comment on this.

"So..." Carmicheals leaned in, eyebrows raised, voice dropping conspiratorially. "Can I call you ’son’ now, or do I wait until after the wedding for full effect?"

Brad gave him a flat look. "You call me ’boss’ during working hours."

"Pfft," The older man waved a hand. "You might be the CEO, acting or not.... but now you’re also my son-in-law. That trumps any org chart."

Then all smiles fell off Carmichael’s face, taking on his rare serious look,

"Take care of my baby... she’s all I got. I know that she is in good hands with you."

"Don’t worry, old man. I wouldn’t go ahead with this marriage if I didn’t want to do that... but something tells me Alicia does not need any of such!"

Carmichaels stood, clapped him on the shoulder with a chuckle. "Welcome to the family, son."

As he walked out, he whistled a wedding tune under his breath — loud enough for the whole floor to hear. Carmichaels was the happiest man at that time, for his only daughter was in the best of hands!

In the office, Brad sighed, rubbing his temples, especially when his eyes landed on the pile of files that he had to work through. Brad had thought that after Ian returned, he would go back to his carefree life, but sadly, that notion never came to pass.

With the excuse that Shelby needed around-the-clock care, Ian had stayed put at home, only participating in specific meetings remotely.

Just then, his phone dinged!

Brad looked at the notification and saw the group that he thought was dead, being active. He hadn’t seen his old friends, Mark, Luis and Jay, in ages. Specifically, this was after he had reclaimed what was owed through Ingrid. Brad did not regret it for a moment. But knowing that they had fallen out big time, it was suspicious that they were all nice in the chat as if they had lost their memories.

Then, a group call ensued, making him raise his eyebrows with a smirk.

"What’s the occasion?" was all he asked.

"Don’t play us, man! Just come out. For old time’s sake. One night only. Your last day as a single man! We miss you."

Miss? Ha! That would not even fool a baby, but, against his better judgment, he agreed.

That evening, Brad arrived at the high-end, velvet-draped entrance of Club Ile in town, a notoriously elite hangout. One could not get in on just a spur of the moment, and it was not even surprising to know that the three had used Brad’s identity to do the booking... because... why not?

The moment Brad stepped out of his car, the valet bowed, addressing him by his name. Brad used to be a regular here but had stopped after his fallout with them. His favourite pastime now was hanging out with the three Brats at home. Inside, the music was a velvet pulse, the air scented with cologne, champagne, and the unspoken air of money and indulgence — a familiar scent from a past life.

And there they were — his ’friends’ — sprawled across a private lounge, laughing loud, raising glasses before he even reached the booth.

"Look who decided to show his face!" Mak bellowed.

"The married man! Or almost!" Jay chimed in, thumping his back.

Brad smirked, going with the flow and rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn’t say anything about marriage."

"Please," Luis laughed, "The whole city’s buzzing about your engagement. You’re officially off the market." He mock-sighed. "Tragic."

"Hahahahahahahahaaaaaaa"

Brad was wary at first, suspicious of their over-the-top energy. But after the third glass of fine whisky, which he had barely sipped, they’d convinced him to stay a bit longer. "For old time’s sake," they echoed, clinking glasses.

Brad did miss his time with them, but he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that all of it felt wrong.

"You never even got a real bachelor party," Luis pointed out. "This is it, man. No strippers..."

When they said this, the three shared a long look, but Brad was not paying much attention to them. He did not care much about what they did, but wanted whatever to play it out.

He continued, ".... no madness—just us, champagne, and elite nostalgia. You deserve at least that."

That made Brad sigh, and he sat back, relaxing — just a little. He needed that unwinding with friends, but nothing more than that.

Jay poured him another drink, grinning too widely. "Just this last one. Trust me. Smoothest thing you’ll taste tonight."

Brad hesitated but pushed the thought aside as paranoia. Something about the glint in their eyes, the hushed exchange over the shoulder, the way the waiter never made eye contact — it all scratched at his instincts. Brad was too good at this game.

But nostalgia is a powerful drug.

So, he raised the glass.

Sip.

It was smooth.

Then things blurred.

*********

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