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“Don’t fucking call me dude!” Tossing a glare over my shoulder is attached to another sneer. “Get out!”
“But-”
“Get out of this room and go do your fucking job!”
Consternation crosses his complexion; however, he says nothing.
Simply turns.
Retreats.
Listens…like he should’ve from the beginning.
Like everyone fucking should’ve from the beginning.
Once he’s out of sight, I shift my attention back to Brynley and snarl, “You have nothing to say, Miss Winters?”
What I won’t let myself believe are tears cascade down her cheek on a single blink. “I have nothing you’re willing to hear, Mr. Wilcox.”
An irascible filled grunt precedes my proclamation. “You will both be allotted thirty minutes to pack your things and then be escorted off the property.” After adjusting the collar to the black, short-sleeved polo, I can hardly fathom I allowed her to convince me to wear, I add. “You can both expect a call from my attorneys in the morning.”
Chapter 23
Brynley
That whole thing about new dating status, new you?
Amazing.
I – honest to the original Uhura – don’t think my tits have ever looked this good in sequins.
However, my mom’s ancient piece of shit curling iron that I’m borrowing?
Less than amazing.
But…beggars shouldn’t be choosers.
Not that I begged to use this thing.
In fact, I don’t typically beg and what I used to beg for, I never will again.
My attempt to fluff out the latest finished piece in a more flattering fashion prompts my mom to tease from the doorway, “If you add anymore volume to your hair, Bryn, you’re gonna be in surround sound.”
I meet her gaze in The Frost Luxury Hotel bathroom mirror and flash her my middle finger.
“Classy.”
“Sassy.”
“You do know you can be both, right?” An exchange of snickers precedes her offering up my cell. “You left it in the mini fridge next to a half-eaten cotton candy sandwich cookie.”
“Half-eaten?” I playfully retort while shifting the device from her grip to mine. “I knew I was forgetting something.”
Mom giggles, shakes her head, and leans her shoulder on the outside wall she’s standing beside.
One swipe reveals to me missed texts as well as a voicemail.
Given that the former requires less effort than the latter, they’re handled first.
