AllFreeNovel
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“Work!” Maintaining my far distance is done by lingering closer to the stairs. “Where the fuck else would I be?!”
“Why hasn’t Holmes been able to locate you for the past two hours?”
“Must’ve accidentally turned the tracker in my ass off.”
He aggressively curls his hands around the edge of the couch. “I am not kidding.”
“And I know you’re not being fucking serious with this impersonation Bat interrogation shit.”
“Try saying that five times fast,” J.T. playfully mumbles under his breath prompting me to smirk.
Ah.
Puppet Boy.
Our trusty shared sidekick.
Probably the one person in our social ocean that has any real clue how to navigate Hurricane Future Wilcoxes.
“Brynley,” is venomously spewed, “I. Want. An. Answer.”
“And I want a boss that I don’t have the urge to kick in the cunt.” My shoulders innocently bounce. “But like The Stones sang…’You Can’t Always Get What You Want’.”
“You know I met Jagger once?” Puppet Boy casually interjects, one navy suit covered leg moving to rest slightly on top of the other. “We were eating at the same restaurant.”
It’s impossible to resist the subject. “How hard did you fangirl?”
“Less hard than when I met Patrick Stewart but harder than when I met Simon Pegg.”
“You met Stewart?!”
“Can we fucking focus here?!” my fiancé bellows, bringing everyone’s attention back to him. “I need to know why a member of my security team-”
“Our.”
“-wasn’t able to locate my fiancée for the past two hours.” In spite of how irritated he’s making me, I can’t help but enjoy how delicious his heaving chest looks in his dress shirt. “Where. Were. You?”
“Working.”
His mismatched eyes that I much prefer rolling back in ecstasy rather than glaring at me harshly narrow. “At The Institute?”
“No.” My hands slip into the back pockets of my khakis. “Calen and I met with Eoghan offsite.”
“Why?”
“Because unlike you – who is his own boss – I have to do what the dreaded Sea Bitch tells me to.”
“Why didn’t you inform Holmes?”
“Perhaps because checking in with my fiancé appointed babysitter simply slipped my mind.”
A deeper glare is thrown in my direction. “Why didn’t you take your phone?”
“Why do I feel like you’re accusing me of something you clearly don’t have the balls to accuse me of?”
“Why do I feel like you don’t believe in this merger you clearly don’t seem to give two fucks about?”
“Why are you both asking rhetorical questions?” Puppet Boy intervenes for a second time. “Like an episode of Voyager, it rarely plays out well.”
