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“Seriously,” sweetness and curiosity return to her tone, “what have you been working on?”
“Technically, all of those things.” My black hoodie covered shoulders bounce in defeat. “I just haven’t had any progress.”
“Wanna show me anything? I probably can’t give you top of the ocean advice – after all I don’t have product designer as my career title like the hot little piece Puppet Boy went out with tonight – but I have drunk a lot of booze and feel that could count for something.”
Small chortles leave me, and I motion her over with a small wave of two fingers.
Bryn enters the room, shuts the door behind her, and drops her shoes next to it as if attempting to add additional security measures to keeping us safe.
Despite what’s going on with her mother – who Hamilton says has completely recovered – I trust those that wander these halls. They’re given thorough background checks and multiple interviews with the heads of their respective departments long before access to my property. They’re fingerprinted and documented. Given badges that are checked as they come and go. Cameras plaguing the property leave little to nowhere to hide the malicious activity Hamilton believes to have occurred, and once we’re allowed to talk again in person, I will further reiterate the point for him to take poison as a possibility off the table.
I need less reasons for the woman bearing the plunging neckline beside me to want to leave.
Not more.
“These are the…current options, I’ve been sent.” Dragging them closer is done between explanations. “I want something that screams luxury and opulence and decades of a lavish legacy. Something that shouts timeless. That honors the hours my family put into distilling. Days into bottling. Years into building this business brick by brick around the hell of prohibition, stock market drops, and economical crisis.” I mindlessly give the side of my face a frustrated rub. “I want something that can sit on the shelf that I know will not only make those that came before me proud but will be something my own heir looks on with the same admiration and reverence.”
“Talk about a lot of fucking pressure,” she less than quietly murmurs.
“Running a billion-dollar business often is.”
“And yet the whiskey portion is the one that receives the most amount of critiquing.”
“The media speculates about all of my endeavors fairly equally.”
“I meant from you.” Bryn’s gaze drops down to meet mine. “This is how you really preserve your parent’s memory, isn’t it?”
A single nod is given.
“And because you have no other family to share or swap stories with, you literally pour pieces of yours into the anniversary products each year.”
There’s no reluctance to nod a second time.
“Then yeah,” her stare swings to the scattered paperwork, “none of this is gonna cut it. Definitely not this congrats on getting your liquor license souvenir bullshit.”
“Exactly!”
“Tell them what you just told me,” my girlfriend suggests at the same time she drags the decanter design forward, “and reconsider something like this, but with a small family only detail like gold flakes as a nod to your mom’s Parisian obsession? And perhaps put them in decorative cigar style box as a wink to your dad?” Our eyes lock again. “Puppet Boy mentioned last night that he had quite the collection when he was alive.”
“He did.” An almost wistful smile touches my lips. “I gave it to J.T. knowing he’d appreciate it more than I ever would.”
“You mean you gave it to your ‘brother’ so that he had his own piece of your father to remember him by.”
Pressing my lips tightly together occurs in a wordless admission.
“I know,” she sassily sings. “I’ve got brains and beauty just like Uhura.”
This time there’s no resisting the instinct to smirk. “That you do.”
“So, is it just the rich billionaire expectation that you have to have kids someday, or…” The unevenness of her tone leads to me placing my palm supportively on the back of her toned thigh. “Do um…you actually want them?”
“Had you asked me that two weeks ago I would’ve said no.”
Yet again our attention gravitates to one another. “And now?”
“Much like you look forward to not wearing heels, I look forward to you not taking your shot.”
Bryn’s teeth sink into her bottom lip immediately inspiring my cock to stir.
