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Chapter 1
Wes
You would think after a year of doing these I would’ve gotten better at them.
I haven’t.
I’m honestly concerned that I’ve somehow managed to get worse.
Which would be impressive.
Irritating.
Yet impressive.
“Uh…Mr. Wilcox?” Zaidee Khan, my personal assistant, croaks from the other end of the phone that’s on speaker. “Are you…um…actually listening to me?”
“Yes,” I acknowledge in tandem with tapping my shark pen against my pursed lips.
I am listening.
Partially.
I’m also searching this booklet.
I refuse to leave for the Morgan Brand merger press conference without being able to pass this headache back to my fiancée.
My fiancée who I barely waited six months to propose to.
They were a challenging six months, filled with work-based whirlwinds neither of us were prepared for.
While Bryn began as a tour guide at The Bower and Powell Aquatic Institute, she transitioned to Research & Rescue within her first two months, which is where she’s remained and truly making a name for herself in the field.
Her change in position is what led to our physical change in location.
The initial acquiring of our downtown Highland penthouse was specially done to provide her with a residence closer to where she works. Her uncertain hours combined with my own sometimes resulted in us literally not seeing one another for days at a time.
That was unacceptable to me.
Almost as unacceptable as her crashing at the home of Calen Connelly, her colleague and newest best friend, when she didn’t have enough energy for a long drive home or needed to be back at work sooner than the inconvenience of living at the estate would allow.
Purchasing this penthouse was truly done in support of her career.
Not in spite of the friendship I loathe her having.
J.T. would obviously beg to differ, but he won’t.
Primarily because I threatened to send his Nightwing ass to Peru for four months to see firsthand which of our new beers from the Morgan merger would pair well with ceviche.
“Evie wanted me to remind you not to wear a tie, you look more approachable without it,” Zaidee resumes reciting things from her check list.
I don’t want to be approachable.
I don’t want my photo taken.
Reported.
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