Page 21 of The Bourbon Bride

“It’s the most comfortable, so yes. What’s mine is yours for as long as you’re here. If you need anything, I’ll be across the hall.”

I’m at a loss for how I feel thanks to the kind gesture, his words, and how accommodating he is being for an interloper who invited herself into his life without any warning. From the little I know about him from the business world, he’s known as uncompromising, ruthless, and devastating. Instead of experiencing that, he’s shown a much kinder side to me. I don’t hold back when I put the clothes on the bed and cross the small space to him. He opens his arms for me in anticipation just before I wrap mine around him and tuck my head into his chest. Hugging must be my love language for how I resort to it to convey my appreciation to him.

“Thank you. For everything.”

He wraps me against him in strong arms for a moment before he sets me away and leaves the room quickly.

I’m left standing in the room alone, feeling empty and confused, knowing that could have gone better. I look over at Cerberus, lying in his bed and watching the doorway through which his master left.

“Not exactly what I wanted, but oh well,” I say to him.

He pulls himself up with a grumble and walks over to me, nudging his head into my hand until I pet him.

“Guess you’ll have to do in a pinch.”

nine

Hayes

Cerberuslooksupatme from where he’s sprawled out on my bed. Paige has a bare leg kicked out from under the covers and it’s resting on one of Cerberus’s massive paws. He looks quite content to be cuddling with the heiress I stole from Savannah and not at all guilty about the fact he’s not supposed to be on the bed. A cloud of Paige’s dark hair is spread over the pillows, her face peacefully asleep in the early morning light.

I cross the room silently to the bathroom where I shower off my morning workout and quietly dress for work. Paige is still asleep when I stand at the end of the bed and fit my silver cufflinks on my shirt. I had hoped she would stir, roll over, and tell me good morning before I left her here for the day, but it’s probably better if she doesn’t. I woke with my dick hard as a rock and taking care of myself hasn’t alleviated the need I feel for her body that calls to me like a siren. I am liable to act on my inclination to run my hands up her soft leg and see where it leads if she so much as smiles at me right now.

“Take care of her,” I whisper to Cerberus, the traitor who normally doesn’t leave my side but now has a new favorite human.

I leave a note on the nightstand for Paige and drive away from the house with an unusual feeling gnawing at me. I wake up, get shit done, and eat business acquisitions for breakfast with a smile on my face, but I’m not at all excited about leaving for work today. The gorgeous debutante in my bed is to blame for my lack of desire to do a job I normally love.

“Welcome back from the sticks,” Zander says when I exit the elevator and enter the executive offices of our downtown building. “Bring us any souvenirs from your antebellum wonderland?”

“A little birdy told me he brought himself back a pretty present this time,” Payton pipes in, walking over with a cup of coffee in his hand.

I take the cup from him, and he protests.

“What fucking birds are you listening to now?”

I’m going to have to check which loose-lipped staff member needs a reminder of who pays their salary and replace them immediately. I operate under the utmost discretion when it comes to my private life, and if someone on my staff is willing to share details with my nosy brother, they will more than likely spill other secrets to someone outside of the family. That’s unacceptable.

“I have my sources but relax. It’s on the Atlanta Haute List, not someone from Olympus.”

He pulls his phone from his pocket and shows me the local gossip site with a dark photo of me helping a woman into my gull-wing Mercedes outside of the jet at the airport. The headline reads, “Billionaire playboy Hayes Olsen is living the after-hours life, jetting into town with a new plaything on his arm”. At least they don’t know my ‘plaything’ is a hotel heiress who is fourteen years younger than me. Once they get wind of that, the real press vultures will descend.

“Check the airport staff. This wasn’t taken with a telephoto lens, so someone was too close to the hangar. Find the person responsible and get rid of them,” I say, handing the phone back to Payton.

“That’s your role, big bro. You do all the firing and nasty work. I stay on top of the gossip and set you loose when the real shit hits the fan.” Payton grins smugly and I’m glad I stole his fucking coffee.

“Is she a liability?”

I turn to look at Zander, standing stern-faced in the doorway of the office I want very badly to enter and shut them both out of. Look at the pot calling the kettle black.

“When have I ever entertained a liability?” I spit.

He’s the one I’m normally cleaning up after, paying off bitter exes and issuing NDAs to every fresh-faced model who doesn’t want to leave his penthouse apartment when he’s finished with them. If any of the Olsen brothers should be called a playboy, it’s the youngest, Zander.

“You know we’re under a deadline to roll out phase two. If we start making waves in the news that tanks public perception, it’s going to cost us. Even I’m on my best behavior which means it should be a piece of cake for you to keep your nose clean. If you fuck this up, we’re back to square one and we lose out on a cash cow.”

“I’m well aware of our business dealings and needs, so shut your fucking mouth before I shut it for you.” I loom over him with the threat, using the extra inch of height to my advantage.

Zander’s gray eyes flash dark with his temper and likely the frustration of staying out of trouble. His trouble usually involves long legs and willing pussies, so I can only imagine the pent-up aggression he’s holding at bay.

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