Page 53 of Tied Up in Riches

I nod toward her phone and the opened music app. “She plays this a lot.”

“I hate to break it to you, but she’s kind of spoken for.”

I chuckle. “I didn’t mean like that.” The realization hits me all at once, like a piece of self-help advice you’ve been told a hundred times but none of them make a difference until the one time, at the right moment. What if I do have time for a girlfriend? Time to learn the little things that make up who someone is? It’s probably wrong to think of it in terms of business, but I check off daily tasks that get me closer to goals each day. I don’t expect to complete them all at once. I know a person is different, but . . . If I have time to add on investments . . .

She looks at me, perplexed, then sighs when I don’t answer. “Okay, well I’m going downstairs to meet up with Dad. I’ll see you down there?”

“Yeah. I’ll be right down.”

I follow her with my eyes until the door clicks behind her, then look at the nightstand. Picking up her book, I flip through the pages, stopping when I reach her bookmark. She’s almost to the end. I shake the curiosity of how this book is affecting her, pushing away the memory of when she already admitted to me that they make her want sex. Set in my plan to find out, I take ten minutes to change into gray slacks and a black button-up, clean up my beard and refresh with a bit of sandalwood aftershave.

And once again, ten minutes is all it takes for me to miss the mark.

Again.

Stepping off the elevator directly into the bar area, I spot Brooke immediately from the back. I also see a man who looks vaguely familiar leaning against the marbled bartop. He’s standing way too close for my liking, and when it hits me that he’s her ex, he’s suddenly way too close for comfort. I could pretend it’s fake boyfriend duties being taken seriously, but I can already tell that’s not what this is.

Beau is so focused on Brooke’s tits that he doesn’t notice me until I’m within reach of them. Not even bothering to eavesdrop on their conversation, I steady myself behind Brooke, taking in a confident breath before grazing my fingers up her arm.

She was already stiff but becomes even more so under my touch. Though, she doesn’t retreat from where our skin connects, and I take it as all the consent I need right now. I brush her beach waves over one shoulder before gripping her hip lightly and bending enough to press my lips to her neck. “Hello, love,” I whisper.

She spins into me–likely in an attempt to hide her shock from Beau, which is confirmed by her wide eyes, the green and golden specks in them competing for real estate. “Hey,” she whispers, her eyes flickering back and forth across my face as if a look alone will help her dissect my unfamiliar actions.

I thread my fingers through her hair, taking a firm grip on the side of her face, hoping she feels my sincerity as I brush my thumb across her jaw. “Sorry I’m late.”

“It’s okay,” she says, and I release her, turning to face Beau.

“Hey, man. Marcus.” I extend a hand.

He takes it. “Beau.”

“Ahhh. The man with the underwear,” I say intentionally at full volume. I can usually keep my snark to myself, but this would have been such a missed opportunity.

Brooke tries to hold back a laugh but ends up with some mix of a snort and a chuckle, and I wish I didn’t have to wait another second to kiss her. I contemplate if I could get away with it. She’d probably go along with it for the sake of the plan, but it’s not worth it.

“Excuse me?” Beau asks, his rocks glass frozen part way to his mouth. Isn’t this a wine event?

“Ignore him.” Brooke smiles and play slaps me in the chest. But instead of taking her hand back, she settles it at my waist, pulling herself to me. I wrap my arm around her shoulder, her head fitting perfectly against my chest. Fucking hell that feels good. “Marcus is my boyfriend,” she says with a confidence that makes me question why she even needs me to tell this douchecanoe to fuck off.

“Boyfriend?” Beau repeats.

“You don’t mind if I steal my girl for a while, do you?”

He stumbles over his words–something I’d believe is actually rare for him as the well-known lawyer he is. “Yeah. Uhh. Sure. No problem. I’ll catch up with you later, Brooke.”

“Maybe,” she says with a shrug and lets me guide her away from her ex.

“Come on.” The idea I came up with earlier today seems even more risky. Adrenaline courses through my veins stronger than the shot of whiskey I took before coming down here. I racked my brain for ways I could help Brooke . . . take the edge off–while also not crossing the line she secured in place when it comes to our physical fake relationship.

“Where to?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yeah.” She doesn’t hesitate, and a pang of guilt hits me knowing she still doesn’t have any clue what my net worth is.

I lead her down the dark hallway full of doors leading to conference rooms. She lets me take her hand and tug her inside an empty room lit only by the wall of windows to the starlit night.

“What are we doing here?”

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