Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Dad never sounds this tense. I wonder if he knows somehow.
But how could he?
“No,” I reply. “Why?”
“It’s a work thing. I can’t get hold of him. I’ll try his cell again.”
“I just left. Maybe he hasn’t checked it. Is everything okay?”
“I’m sure it will be,” Dad says. “I hope Silas treated you well.”
Dad says this as an aside, tossing it out there casually, with no real thought that his oldest and best friend wouldn’t have treated me with anything other than respect.
I don’t mention the fact I can still taste Silas’ seed in my mouth.
Swallowing was worth it when I heard his carnal moans, then his gasping like he couldn’t even summon the energy to moan.
“Yes,” I say. “He was great.”
If great means we had a fight, if great means I have no idea where we stand….
And even if I did, even if something could happen, it would mean shattering Dad’s world.
“Good to hear,” Dad says. “Hang on. He’s ringing me back. I love you.”
“Love you too, Dad,” I reply, feeling like a traitor.
It’s not a lie. Of course, I do love him, but it sounds like a twisted joke, considering what I did recently.
Clearly, Silas isn’t going to reach out to me since he’s calling Dad.
It makes sense. Silas probably hates me for wielding Vanessa’s name.
He probably wishes we kept up the ‘it never happened’ charade.
I wonder if we’ll have another tattoo session or if he’ll hire somebody else to complete it.
This was so much less complicated when it was a crush and it existed only in my imagination.
Driving through the city, I drum my fingers against the steering wheel, wondering if there’s a chance for us.
Or if there’s an us at all.
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
Silas
I pace back and forth in the elevator as much as it allows.
Julian stands pressed against one wall, and even as the rage boils through me, I think about what it means for Lauren and me.
Pushing Julian aside, taking what we want. Taking each other.
Maybe the argument was a good thing.
“Since when do you pace?” Julian says with a grin.
I flash one back at him, all ironic. “This is a last-minute play for what little power they can get. But they must know I’ll never screw over my customers. I refuse. I’d rather be homeless than that. I’d rather be in a goddamn cage.”
There’s too much energy boiling out of me, fueled by the argument, by Vanessa’s name, all of it coming back.
And Dad’s gravestone is starting to take shape on my skin, stinging. Dad and Vanessa are bouncing around in my head.
With Lauren there, staring, waiting for me to be a decent man and make her mine. To be the man she deserves.
“I know,” Julian says. “They think we’re going to let our shareholders knock us off balance.”
“A scare tactic.”
I nod savagely, doing my best to thrust Lauren into an ignored corner of my mind. But I could never ignore her.
Even after showering, I can still feel her on my body, the shame and the desire.
What if she felt the same, and Julian somehow understood?
“We’re the largest shareholders. And we’re private for a reason. We make our own decisions.”
Julian nods.
“I’ll nuke their whole business model if that’s what they want. Strip the company down to the bare bones. Or totally gut it. They don’t understand how hard we had to work, turning a clothing brand into a skate park franchise, bike shops, ski wear and, and….”
My fists are clenched. “The weeks without sleep, me and you. Making it all work.”
Julian grins, clapping me on the shoulder the way he has countless times before. “I remember. This could’ve been a moderate, successful company. But you always pushed at the edges, looking for the next thing.”
“And you were there to stop me from killing myself in the process.”
He chuckles. And I hate myself, disgusted I’ve corrupted this moment between us, made it about something it never had to include—intimacy with his daughter, an obsession to do it again.
The elevator doors open, leading to a large conference room.
A man and a woman stand from the far end, walking over. The woman is Andrea Coleman, representative of Jargon, the multimedia company we’re acquiring.
She’s tall, with a no-nonsense face, her ponytail seemingly glued into place. A vision of my woman flashes up in my mind, her ponytail with its wayward strands.
The man is Logan, the son of the CEO. He’s been handling much of the business while his father is undergoing surgery.
He’s a born-money type, with slick blonde hair combed to the side, jittery as though he’s on something.
“You look pissed,” Logan says, grinning at me and then at Julian. “Is he pissed?”
“You’re not keeping any of the data.”
“Woah, woah.” Logan raises his hands. “Aren’t you even going to say a polite hello first?”
It’s more difficult than usual to stop myself from erupting. There’s too much balled up inside of me.