Page 30 of Bourbon Wishes
"Oliver, if you don't get the fuck out of my office, I swear to Christ, the next thing your wife sees from your bathroom window will be an eight-foot replica of my dick painted on my garage door."
"I will murder you in your sleep, motherfucker," he growls. But my empty threat works like a charm. He hops to his feet, stomping out of my office.
Fucking finally.
I lean back in my chair with a sigh of relief.
Only to immediately mutter a curse when Gabe strides through the door, a shit-eating grin onhisface.
"Now what?" I growl, glaring daggers at him.
"Damn." An amused laugh rumbles from his lips. "I really thought fucking up Constance's office every day while you're doing dirty shit to her would make you less of a crabby bastard. Somehow, it's made you ever worse. How the fuck does that work?"
My left eye twitches. "What do you want, Gabriel?"
"Constance has an idea. I think you should hear her out."
My brows furrow. Why the hell is she taking her ideas to Gabe instead of bringing them to me? "What idea?"
"Ask her about it," he says, being intentionally ominous.
"Why the fuck was she talking to you about it?"
"Uh, because she's allowed to talk to other people, you jealous asshole?"
I grit my teeth. "That's not what I meant." It was precisely what I meant, but I will choke on my own tongue before I admit to this asshole that I'm jealous she's talking to him instead of to me. If it were up to me, I'd monopolize every second of her time. She'd never even see my asshole cousins…at least not until she's pregnant with my kid and wearing my ring. I'm kind of hoping she doesn't figure out that's basically my plan—getting her pregnant before she realizes it's happening.
Is it fucked up? Absolutely. Will I regret it? Hell no. I want her tied to me. And a baby will give me plenty of time to convince her that she loves me.
"You sure?" Gabe asks.
"Yes."
"Fine. She was down in the cellar recording a content video when it came up. I told her to talk to you about it." He leans against the doorframe, eyeing me. "She seemed awful fucking reluctant to do that, by the way."
"What the fuck?"
"So, you don't know why she didn't want to bring it to you," he says, like this is breaking news. "Interesting."
I frown at him, suddenly worried as hell. Constance has no problem telling me what she thinks all day, every day. She makes a sport of it, in fact. So why the sudden reticence to speak up? I don't like it.
Ineedto know what she's thinking before I snap.
"Talk to her," Gabe suggests before ducking out of my office.
I snatch my cell off my desk, texting her.
Me: Where are you?
Constance: Hello to you, too.
Me: Constance.
Constance: Bastian.
I swear, I've never wanted to spank someone as badly as I do her at least fifty times a day. She drives me up the wall, and she does it intentionally. It shouldn't be as sexy as it is…and yet, my cock is constantly hard because of her.
Me: If you aren't in my office before I come looking for you, you'll have my dick down your throat wherever I happen to find you.
