Page 2 of Ruthless Wars

“You know,” he says in a deep, panty-melting timbre. “Some of us are waiting to order our own cup o’ cock.”

With that, he shakes an empty cup at Jaclyn but keeps his darkening gaze on me, giving me a close look at his hazel eyes. His pupils dilate, but brilliant gold flecks surround them, wreaking havoc on my imaginings.

“Ahem.” Jaclyn huffs under her breath, swiftly yanking me from my tawdry thoughts and lingering stare.

Thank goodness. A second longer, and I’d be climbing the man like a redwood.

I turn back to Aimee. “I’d love a venti frap. Salty.”

“Salted caramel,” Jaclyn says, elbowing me in the exact same spot she always manages to hit.

“Ow.” I wince, wondering when I’m ever going to learn to jerk away when her swift elbow aims for my ribs. Rubbing my side, I say, “Yes. Make sure it’s absolutely dripping with caramel. Thick ropes of salty caramel,” I sing naughtily as Jaclyn drops her face into her palm.

“No cream to lick off?” the man asks, damn near tempting me to lick him off.

I’d literally give a kidney—or a Maserati—for just an hour with this gorgeous hunk of man before crossing the threshold into celibacy.

I’m about to answer when Jaclyn interrupts, tossing a hundred-dollar bill on the counter.

“Seriously, I need to get back to work.” Wildly pointing to each of us, she channels Oprah in a wholly inappropriate way. “Drinks are on me. You get a cock, and you get a cock. Aimee, the rest is your tip for putting up with these eighth graders.”

Later that day, I sit in a comfy leather chair across from my challenger’s desk and stare him down with a practiced glint and a sugary-sweet smile. In true Texas form, I know the best way to close business transactions is with honey.

“It’s the deal of the century,” I say evenly, masking my excitement. “We put up a handful of our underperforming subsidiaries as collateral and grab these companies on margin. When the transaction is done, whatever we’ve leveraged will be absorbed in the new holdings, and we keep the smaller companies that no one has gobbled up. It’s genius.”

“It’s risky,” my adversary says.

“Come on, Dad. If you do this right now, I’ll get to see the fruits of my evil plan and watch them come to life before I take off for Europe.”

Unconvinced, my father—Texas tycoon Everett Long—glares at me impatiently. “And why do you insist on running away every time you hatch a scheme?”

It’s a valid question. Jaclyn, the COO of Long Multinational and my remarkable half-sister, is the heir apparent to his throne at the helm of this multibillion-dollar empire. Not that I mind. If anything, I’m relieved to not be shackled to the business world Jaclyn so adores.

Jaclyn has always been in the position of being primed for greatness. She’s postured to become one of the most powerful—not to mention richest—CEOs in the world, which is perfect. Her hard-charging demeanor, laser focus on the bottom line, and genuine love of the company make her the perfect CEO-to-be.

My talents have another calling. Puppet-mastering from the sidelines is as lucrative as it gets and keeps me exactly where I want to be—in the lap of the luxury I enjoy, while free to do whatever the hell I want without concern for public scrutiny.

Europe is fun and guilt-free, and I can hopscotch across countries on a whim. Schussing the slopes of Switzerland one week, eating at my favorite chocolatier in Paris the next. With my pick of men, it’s been easy to stay unattached.

At least, until now.

“I like Europe,” I say. “And it gives me a little extra time with Wyatt.”

“Wyatt,” Dad says sadly.

Disappointment pours from him, stemming from having a son who’s always half a world away. Everyone misses Wyatt. But the life of the party couldn’t be caged in Dallas. My brother was born to fly free, becoming a world-renowned interior designer to whomever has the deepest pockets and the most interesting architecture.

His taste for extravagance and penchant to spend other people’s money work hand in hand. Which means most of his work is in Asia or Europe, with at least a few months a year in Dubai. Dallas is Wyatt’s stomping ground only for the holidays, when he shows off his latest smoking-hot boy toy, practically double-daring me to seduce him straight.

I do love Christmas.

“Why don’t I go with you?” Dad asks. “Just for a week? Jaclyn can hold down the fort.”

I force a small smile. “It’ll be hard enough to do this. Honestly, I’m not sure I could with you watching.”

Dad nods, his eyes filled with understanding as well as sadness. “Now,” he says in a firm voice, refocusing us both, “walk me through this play again.”

I smile widely, filled with excitement. “Is that a yes?”

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