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My allowing it to happen is merely a compromise I’m making.
I want to have a life with Bryn, one where I can take her to dinner after a long day or accompany her to a movie on a Sunday with her friend Vanessa or go thrift shopping for vintage memorabilia, all of which means coming out of the shadows to be seen in the streets of my Gotham.
Rumors regarding me, my family, my estate, and my company all run rampant regardless of whatever official statements we make; however, they are significantly less when we’ve strategically presented them with opportunities to ask questions as opposed to making assumptions they can be sued over for slander.
I speak to the public in press settings and attend public events to appease the public relations department along with the other shareholders of my company.
J.T. is still the active and more important face of Wilcox Enterprises, but I am beginning to share some of the responsibility, therefore, allowing him to have more time to work on the projects that are closer to him.
Like his ratings and location app idea where consumers will be able to not only rank their personal preferred flavors in their accounts, but track where it’s socially available, thus putting his degree and passion of both technology integration and the alcohol business to profitable use.
And the projections of profit for it are extremely high.
And even more so once we add our budding library of beers to it.
“She also wanted me to remind you not to wear black on black,” my assistant continues at the same time I adjust myself on the gray, L-Shaped couch. “It’s not a funeral.”
That’s exactly what I’ll be wearing.
“Julia wanted me to remind you to use positive buzz words such as ‘welcoming’ and ‘family’ to keep the focus on the building of your brand versus the destruction of others.”
I use the non-ink end of the pen to diagonally follow the letters of a suspected word.
“And lastly, Mr. Hawthorne has advised me against allowing any more time to be scheduled with Velora until you and Bryn have scheduled time with him to actually sign the prenuptial agreements, the legacy asset paperwork, and your will’s as well as your living wills.”
Disappointment over once again failing to find something has me grumping in displeasure.
“Would you like me to go ahead and schedule that time with him now?” Zaidee politely offers. “I know Velora will be calling within the hour requesting the same.”
Velora Appelbaum is one of the best wedding planners in the country.
The problem?
Her inability to understand that the woman I’m marrying isn’t just an heiress with only a social calendar of obligations.
I lower my mouth in preparation to answer when movement out of the corner of my eye captures my attention instead.
The sight of my completely naked fiancée giving her dark, thick locks a lazy ruffle while unhurriedly approaching has me abandoning the word search along with the obnoxious phone call. “We’ll schedule those activities at a later date.”
“Was that Velora again?” Bryn quirks a curious eyebrow as I swiftly end the call. “Did I miss another one of those ‘Which One of These Announcements is Not Like the Other’ discussions?”
“No,” my retort is attached to pulling her into my black, boxer brief covered lap, “it was Zaidee.” Her arms lovingly tangle around my neck after getting into a comfortable straddling position. “Work reminders.”
“Don’t tell me she’s turning on the Bat signal early, Mr. Wayne.”
I slowly trail my calloused index finger down her light mocha chest to her darker nipple. “Not before you’ve touched my jewels, Ms. Kyle.”
“Is that what I’m doing up so early?” she practically moans due to me delivering a light tug. “It’s barely after six.”
“It’s easily past nine.”
“Do you want me to use my claws for pain or pleasure?”
It’s impossible not to smirk while lifting her full tit to my open mouth. “Both.”
Her lips move to make what I have no doubt is a snarky comeback prompting me to suck on the hardened nub, an action that provokes a heavy, heady moan instead. “Mr. Wilcox…” The rolling of my tongue warrants a repeat of the sound. “Is this how you say good morning to everyone?”
“Just my fiancée,” precedes me executing the same teasing motion to her other nipple. “Besides, I’m trying to make it a good morning, little prey.” This time the nip presented is a little toothier. Her favorite. “We both know actions mean more than words.” A single hum of agreement is followed by me effortlessly flipping her onto her back. “And my actions are currently telling you that I missed the chance to have you for dinner,” the freeing of my shaft is smooth and swift, “therefore I will not miss the chance to have you for breakfast.”
