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Back in my apartment, I do my quick morning routine and prep my compact travel bag before getting ready to head out.
I’m just hopping onto my motorcycle when I get a text.
Jess:
Hey, where’d you go? Your flight isn’t until later.
Me:
Impromptu meeting at the HQ.
Good luck out there. Call me if you need anything.
Likewise.
Here’s a snack for the journey. ;-)
She sends me a pic of her in the bathroom, smiling. My dick jerks. She’s in front of the mirror, holding her thong. I can see the top of her tits. The photo cuts right off where her nipples begin.
I find myself smirking when I pull out of my parking space. Little tease. It’s amazing what frequent sex can do to your morale. On top of that, our date last night was fun. It brought a depth of connection that I haven’t had in a long time. Being able to talk shop with someone who knows what they’re talking about and discussing fresh perspectives brings a unique satisfaction, but there’s more to life than work. The way our conversation flowed between professional and personal was effortless.
A lot of things with Jess are effortless.
This time when I get to Blackwood Inc., I don’t even bother going to my office first. I immediately head for the conference room, which Jasmine is in the process of prepping. When she sees me, she gives me a bright smile.
“Good morning, Mr. Blackwood. Can I get you a coffee or anything else?”
“Yes, please, thanks.” She prepares me a cup of coffee, finishes up her work, and pats me on the arm as she leaves. When my father arrives, he takes the seat at the opposite end of the table.
“You’re early,” he says by way of greeting.
“I’m only here for the meeting. I have a plane to catch.”
“You’ve been spending a lot of time at Westerlyn. I haven’t seen much of you lately.”
“So? You know how much time goes into transitions.”
“Is that the only reason?”
His tone and hard expression are difficult to read. Luckily, I have years of experience recognizing when my father is trying to verbally goad me.
“Look, we don’t have much time before the rest of the board arrives,” I tell him, “so, just tell me what you’re trying to say, and we can move on.”
“Always so quick to be defensive, son. Fine, we’ll skip right to it. Are you sleeping with the co-owner of Westerlyn Hotels?”
What the hell?
That’s not what I thought he was going to ask or say, but I don’t let it show that he’s caught me off guard. Where would he have heard this? I know Connor definitely wouldn’t have told him. The question is out of the blue because he’s never asked me about my partners in the past. Why is he asking now?
“Care to explain this?” he says, dropping a shiny art magazine on my desk.
I glance at the opened page, and there it is—several photos from the charity event. Jess and I, looking like more than just colleagues, especially in that photo where she embraces me after the winning bid for the art piece. The press certainly knows how to twist a moment. Dammit.
“Just a friendly gathering,” I say, trying to keep it casual.
His eyes narrow. “Friendly, you say? The press seems to think otherwise. There are rumors of a secret engagement floating around. Are you engaged, son?”
I let out a weary sigh, fixing my gaze on his. “What I do in my spare time is none of your business.”
