Page 18 of Made For You
“Stop letting my assistant flirt with you.”
He guffawed as he sat in the chair across from me. We both knew he wasn’t doing anything to lead her on.
“So,” he began, “what did you think of our little bookworm?”
“Bookworm?”
“Yes. Aurora. She likes to read romance novels. Did you read any of the information I gathered for you?”
“No, just the demographics page in the front. It felt invasive.” My collar felt tight against my neck as I thought about the extra information Dean had pulled on everyone. I only cared about what Aurora would think about it though.
“Aw. Maybe Talon Beckett has a heart after all.”
No, just a dick that wanted a piece of my hopefully soon-to-be bride.
“Can it, Dean. I’m just as heartless as I was yesterday.”
“Sure. I saw the way you were chatting her up last night. I’ve never seen you hold a conversation longer than a few grunts with a stranger. I thought Fiona was going to have you analyzed at the end of the night. The grumpy asshole we all love had been flirting with the blonde beauty like a love-sick teenager.” Dean laughed like he was watching a chimp throw his own feces at a crowd.
“Are you done?” I asked, exasperated.
He held up his finger as he let out another moment of laughter, then calmed down.
“Finally. I do have a job for you.”
“What am I? Your minion?”
Rolling my eyes, I explained how I needed his help this evening when I went to meet with Aurora and explain my plan. Something about her left me thinking she would not give me the time of day. I was going to need Dean to keep her from leaving. And possibly slapping me.
“You know I have a life.”
“I do, but you also want to help me.”
“And why is that again?”
“Because if you don’t, then my family risks losing the hotels, or even worse, it goes to my cousin, who will probably turn them into brothels. And there is a good chance if I don’t get full access to the trust fund that’s rightfully mine, then I’ll be sleeping on your couch.”
Dean hummed as if considering my reasoning and found it lacking.
“And you want to do it for my mom.” I knew mentioning my mom would seal the deal. Dean had lost his mother when he was ten to cancer. That had been another thing that further cemented our friendship. So, if anyone knew what it was like to want to do something for their deceased parent, then it was Dean.
“You’re right. Plus, your family sucks. I can’t believe they’re sticking to all this old shit. I mean, who requires someone to get married to run a business or get full control of their bank account?”
“Apparently, my grandfather.”
“And your grandmother has no say? Wasn’t the hotel fromherside of the family?”
“None of the men in this family listen to the women, which is a fucking joke. Grandma could run this place after a bottle of wine and her hands tied behind her back.”
As if I conjured her, my cell phone rang with a video call from the person in question. I answered the call, smiling at the video of my eighty-five-year-old grandmother in her yoga room. She was more athletic now than I remembered her being when I was a child. Once my grandfather fell sick a decade ago, she began focusing on her own health.
“Oh man, Gigi!” Dean shouted from his seat. “Call a doctor. Talon’s smiled twice in the last twenty-four hours.”
“What? My sweet Talon smiled? Why?”
I sneered over the phone toward my friend and tried to silently mouth to keep his trap shut. But Dean snickered as he replied, “His girl is visiting.”
“Girl!” Gigi, the name I gave my grandmother, shrieked. She moved from her yoga pose with arms extended in a lunge form, to standing with her hands resting at her heart. Not even excitement over a girl could break her from her yoga time. It always made me wonder why she usually chose this time to call me. I much preferred when she was in her sunroom that was decked out in psychedelic paintings, which matched her personality.
