Page 103 of Mr. Monroe

I walked into the bathroom. The sun had already slid below the horizon, but the golden hues of the sky still painted the entire ocean and shoreline in a beautiful color.

I smiled at the one thing that could outdo the beauty of the sun setting on the Pacific.

“About damn time,” Nat said, reclining back with her eyes closed. “I was hoping for that massage you promised me?”

“Sorry about the delay, gorgeous,” I said, kissing her forehead. “Jake called, then apparently Heidi returned to the surface of the earth and called directly after.”

She smirked at me as I poured her a glass of wine. “I’d prefer to know what Jake was calling about; however,” she took the glass of wine and sipped it, “I’m sure I should ask about your mother first.”

“You should never feel as though you need to ask about that woman. It’s never good news, and it’s not worth another thought.”

“And Jacob, then?”

“Yes,” I said, shrugging off my button-down shirt and unbuttoning my pants. “It’s something to do with a surprise party for Jim. He’s going to text me the info. It’s probably this weekend if you want to go?”

“Oh, right,” she said as I stepped into the large stone tub behind her and sat with her between my legs. “Avery mentioned something to Bree and me at the spa this afternoon. They’re having the party on Jake’s yacht this weekend. You up for going?”

I rolled my eyes as I began to massage Nat’s shoulders. “Why they have to do this shit on a yacht is always beyond me,” I said, kissing her neck. “Those fucking guys and their yachts.”

“Because they’re billionaires like you, babe,” she chuckled. “Aren’t all of you one-percenters supposed to own at least one yacht?”

“I hate to let you down with how I view wealth, but flying in private jets is the extent of how I use my billionaire status.”

She laughed again. “A massive letdown,” she said with a soft moan as my lips brushed over the surface of her shoulders. “How am I supposed to land a role as one of the next Housewives without a goddamn yacht to flash around?”

“What the fuck is that?” I said with a laugh.

“If you weren’t always working or falling asleep on the sofa, you’d know. I really need to get you into these reality TV shows.”

“I think I’ll pass.”

“There,” she said, rubbing her hands over my knees, “now you’re acting like a billionaire. You don’t have any clue what’s going on in the real world.”

“How does not watching a reality show make me out of tune with what’s happening in the real world?”

“Because if you’re not watching those shows, you’re not seeing why these beautiful women are marrying ugly billionaires like you and then jockeying for status and position as the biggest bitch on the show.”

“Ugly billionaires like me?”

“You should be less concerned about your looks and more about whether I’m going to be one of those wives.”

“Nah,” I smirked. “There’s no fucking way you’d be that type of woman. My ugly ass wouldn’t hear of it.”

She chuckled, then spun around to face me. “Good. Now, let’s take this to the next level, handsome.”

All frivolous conversation halted when her lips found mine, and my heart began to pick up the pace, knowing that sex with Nat and bubbles always turned out to be a good fucking thing.

The next day I felt more revived than the previous day. That’s another reason I had a pep in my happy little step. I was grateful for my joy; however, my happiness wasn’t all I was after these days. I was starting to grow more concerned for Nat’s. She seemed happy and content, but I knew being out of contact with Shane was bothering her.

I had to do something. There was no way I would waltz around like a happy mother fucker while she was burdened.

It took weeks of Shane dodging my texts, but I finally got her brother to agree to come to the Mitchell offices downtown to meet with me. It was perfect timing because it was Friday, and tonight we were all heading to Jake’s yacht to celebrate Jim’s birthday with a four-day cruise along the coast. So once, I got this out of the way, I’d use our time away to fill in Nat on any progress I’d made with her brother.

I would be lying if I said Shane didn’t look like a strung-out homeless man when he walked into my office. His blond hair was a mess, and his jeans were torn in so many places they were practically hanging off him. Seeing him like this broke my heart for whatever the fuck he’d been through and what it would do to Nat. He looked so thin that I almost didn’t recognize him, and I wanted to reach out and hug the kid.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that move would’ve been unappreciated and probably just make him angry. I knew it took courage for him to show up in this state, looking like this, and meet with me.

I dismissed my secretary with a nod and led Shane over to the leather sofa in my office.

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