Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
She snort-giggled. “See you in the morning?”
“Yeah. I’ll bring the coffee.”
“Bitch, you’ll bring me a croissant. I am the all-seeing, all-knowing—”
I hung up on her, chuckling. A text pinged through a second later.
“Love you,” she said.
“Me more,” I replied.
I’d sleep on this, figure it out in the morning when the light had cleared the night’s fears from my skin. I stood up, tiptoed back down the hall and into the guest room. Jax was still fast asleep on his side, snoring lightly.
It was easy to slip underneath his arm and snuggle close. Even better when he tucked me tight against his body in his sleep, muttering my name under his breath.
Chapter 13
Jax
“—even listening to me, bud?”
I lifted my head and hauled my thoughts back together from the corners of my mind. All of them had been of Riley, either of the taste or smell of her, of her quivering body, or of the fear in her eyes before I’d claimed her again.
Bane, my business partner, sat across the conference table from me, tapping his ballpoint on his open schedule. “Dude.”
“What?”
“You’re not even here right now.” The man cut an imposing figure—he’d been intro college football back in the day, before I’d found him and turned him away from sport and into business. He brushed his hand over his jet-black hair, brow wrinkling at me. “What’s up?”
“Nothing,” I replied. “So we’re opening in Delaware next week.”
“We already discussed that.” Bane pointed the nib of his pen at me. “Five minutes ago. Delaware is done and dusted. We’re talking about that opportunity in France. The restaurant?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Yeah, the restaurant. Fuck it, I don’t like French food, though. I’d rather open something in Italy.”
“By all means,” Bane replied, still with a frown.
I focused on him completely. I was usually the consummate professional, and I’d been the opposite for the past week. Totally out of character for me. I was supposed to be the dominator, the one who closed the deals and took control of the meetings, while Bane was the smooth talker, the charmer.
“What do you mean, by all means? You’re usually tight-assed about this shit,” I said.
“I’ve been thinking,” Bane said, “that the club scene, while it’s popular, it’s a good source of income and all that shit, but it’s pretty much dead.”
I scooched forward in my cushy, leather seat, honing in on his face. Focused on that ugly-ass scar across his cheek, the sharpness of his nose. He was like Kylo Ren in Star Wars, except more swole. “This again?”
“Yeah, this again. You know I’ve never liked the club vibe. I know you inherited the first one, but it snowballed after that, and I never saw either of us as ‘that guy,’ dude. We’re not—”
“Shitheels,” I finished.
“Exactly.”
“Strip club owner does have a ring to it, though,” I replied.
“Yeah, but it’s a cheap cubic zirconium one. All I’m saying is that we could easily switch lanes, like that.” He snapped his fingers. “And that property you’ve had your eye on? Right across from that fitness center? Man, that would be a prime place to open a new restaurant. Think about it, we could start a chain—like fast food but classier.”
It all hinged on whether Riley would sell the damn place to me or not. I considered it, shifted my gaze to the misted glass windows of the cubicle behind him. Bane had rented this office space for himself ages ago, and I hardly ever came here either. Technically, this was our base of operations. We managed the business from here. Christ, the man even had a personal assistant helping him with his day-to-day.
I saw the frosted windows, the mauve carpets once every other month during our meetings. Other than that, I was streaking across the globe, or across Miami, staking my claim on businesses and studios and clubs.
Riley’s place? It’d been one of the last ones on my list. And I couldn’t have it.
Didn’t bother me as long as I had her.
“You’re doing it again,” Bane said.
“Huh?”
“You’re floating around in the stratosphere, bro.” Bane shut his planner with a pert snap. “I don’t have time to sit here and—”
“All right, all right, don’t get your nuts in twist. I’ve got shit on my plate too.”
Bane clicked his ballpoint and stowed it in the top pocket of his jacket. I’d already warned him about it—it was a plebian habit, and I knew all about those. The way I’d been raised would’ve made a hooker turn up her nose at the barbarity of it all.
“One of these days, you’re gonna walk into a door or some shit, the pen’s going to break, and you’re going to ink your suit,” I said. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but that’s an Armani.”
“So, we’re going into fashion instead of food?”
“Suck a dick,” I replied, with a grin that’d make a nun blush. “Listen, I like the restaurant idea, I do, but I’m not ready to pull out of all the clubs yet. They turn a great profit, for the most part, and my uncle—”