Page 22 of Ruthless Wars

“Thank you. And don’t worry. I talk shit about you behind your back too.”

“Nice.”

Evie checks her diamond-studded Rolex, twisting it unnecessarily on her wrist to let the stones give off their extra-bright sparkle.

Picking up her cue, I lob her the question she’s obviously angling for. “New watch?”

“Oh, this?” Evie sings. “Yes. Just a little something from my fiancé. The—”

“Ninth richest man in the world. Yeah, yeah. Got it. You’ve snagged the catch of the century. Now, how long do I have?”

Pursing her lips to a hard line, Evie answers. “In your state? Let’s go with fifteen minutes, as it’ll probably take you twenty-five. What can I do?”

“Send a search party if I’m not there in twenty. I need to grab a coffee.”

“Want me to get it? I don't mind.”

I shake my head, wincing at the pain the movement causes as I push my way to my feet. "The walk will do me good."

Any number of runners could have fetched my order from the coffee shop across the street, letting me avoid the annoyingly bright sunlight and chipper passersby, but a brisk walk and the chilly air of a Texas morning might be enough to wake me out of my fog.

Pretending for a moment that a huge chunk of my family’s multibillion-dollar empire doesn’t rest entirely on my ability to pull my hard-partying head out of my ass, I peruse the menu board behind the register before making my selection. I deflate, remembering my last hurrah with Jaclyn. To pick myself up, I order her usual drink.

“A double-shot cappuccino with almond milk,” I whisper to the barista, keeping my voice low to avoid piercing my own eardrums with anything above a whisper.

“Her coffee’s on me.”

The deep rumble of a man’s voice from behind me makes me wince, but I keep my sunglasses high on my face and ignore the unstoppable shiver. Seriously? I've been pounded like a schnitzel by the best of them. Must focus on work.

“No, my coffee’s on me,” I say insistently, keeping my voice low and serious enough that the barista nods at me and takes my cash.

Quickly, I grab my cup and turn to head back to the office. With several quick and determined steps to the skyscraper, I can’t move fast enough to avoid the man’s attention.

“Wait up!”

Not a chance.

My new allure is surprising. Men have always approached me in a low-key sort of way, but heavy pursuits like this are unfamiliar. I’m usually in a den of rich, lazy lions who passively sit by, relaxing as they wait for their blow jobs.

Been there. Done that. Got—and burned—the T-shirt.

With a surreptitious whiff of my wrist, I wonder if my new perfume—or pheromones—are the culprits behind my sudden status change to dick magnet.

Confident, I step into the building, unhurried, not concerned that anyone will chase me in here. My pace slows to easygoing as I stroll through the lobby.

Instantly, Evie rushes over, grabbing my arm. “One search party, at your service.”

Confused, I check my phone to see I’ve only been gone ten minutes. “A premature search and rescue? Why?”

“They’re here.”

Taking a deep, calming breath, I suck up my disappointment, cursing inwardly for failing to anticipate a power-play move I’d totally pull myself.

I straighten my blazer and take a deep breath before I lie to Evie. “They’re early. Not unexpected.”

“We opened the conference room, and Jean stalled most of their entourage with a quick tour around. Others went for coffee. But ...” Evie checks her watch. “She’ll be done soon. And now that you’re back, I need to grab Jaclyn’s intern. This is a fantastic learning opportunity.”

Sipping my coffee and forcing a wry smile, I roll my eyes. “Try to sound less enthusiastic about the worst day of my week-long career.”

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