Page 5 of The Wrong Promise

What the actual fuck?

Dom Pérignon. Not any bottle, the Gold Vintage.

“I-I didn’t…” I stutter. “I can’t afford…”

Jobe smiles. “It’s on me.” I check behind us, noting the room is now empty. All the staff has disappeared. Not that it matters. He can take what he likes.

“You were struggling,” he says, matter-of-factly.

“How so?”

“All the baby talk. I saw the look on your face.”

My shoulders sag. “I’m trying to be a good friend. No, I am a good friend, and I’m excited for both of my friends. The fact I haven’t dated in a year doesn’t mean anything. It’s an exciting time in their lives. I can only imagine how overwhelmed they are with their lives changing, well, like forever. And in a good way, of course. I’ve never seen Penny this happy, and that makes me happy. I’m so glad she met Frank. I mean, who knew you could find your soulmate setting a proposal beach theme for your friend and it then being a disaster? What do they say? You never know when?—”

“Take a breath and drink,” Jobe interrupts and hands me a glass. “Your happiness isa lot. I’m not sure if it’s for the baby or Penny has found happiness with my brother?”

I down a few mouthfuls. God, it tastes amazing. “Both.”

“And it makes you feel…” He waits for me to answer.

“Happy, of course.”

“Hmm.” He loosens his tie and slips it off, then rolls it, placing it on the bar.

Swiveling on his chair, he faces me, turning my stool so his knees imprison my thighs.

My stupid heartbeat picks up a notch.

His dark eyes assess me. “How do you really feel? And don’t say happy.”

Nervous this close to you.“I’m going to need more than one glass of champagne for me to speak my mind toyou. Not that you’d understand. You spoke your mind far too scathingly when you first met Pen.”

“Ah. I see I’m not forgiven for that.” His smirk bugs me as though he knows exactly what he is doing. “Then I’ll start. I love my brother. I’m closest to him out of any of my siblings, and their happiness brings my family unbelievable joy. Especially my parents. He has always been someone I have respected, as no one does it better than Franklin. Ask my father. He was the perfect student and a ruthless businessman. He has made my father proud.”

I frown at him. “And you haven’t?”

“I partied my way through college and messed around for years. Until my father spoke sense and gave me the rope to do something I enjoy since hedge funds and business analytics never inspired me. Beautiful homes and beautiful things enthuse me. I like speaking with people face-to-face and convincing them they need something more in their lives. Although, of late, the business has taken me further away from this and more to real estate investment trusts and buying office towers. Another challenge I enjoy.”

I narrow my eyes at him.

“I would never sell them something of poor quality, and I usually deal with millionaires and billionaires, so to my clients, it’s just another house.”

“You’d never sell a house to me.” A statement, not a question. I take another mouthful of truth serum.

“I think I could if you had the equity. I am a convincing man when in the zone.”

A single laugh erupts from my throat. “Thankfully, I’m not in your market, and I doubt I would ever succumb to your sales pitch.”

Or you.

“It’s not a pitch, Zara. More a way of life and understanding the client’s needs. I take my job seriously.”

I believe him.

Looking at the bottle of champagne, I pour myself another drink and top up his glass. I raise my crystal flute. “This is good, by the way.”

He undoes the top two buttons of his white shirt. “Do you want me to ready the next bottle on ice?”

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