Still confused, completely and utterly turned the fuck on, and probably irritated with me, she waves her mom off lazily with her hand.
“I just felt a little nauseous, but I’m fine.”
Hazel looks at her, concerned.
“It will only get worse, darling. Do you need some more water?”
Wren shakes her head when Phillip suddenly stands, and attention is drawn to him as he looks down at me.
“What kind of drink man are you, Arlo?”
I lift my chin as I respond.
“Whiskey.”
He gives me a cunning grin before giving a head gesture toward the door.
“I have some outstanding vintage Bourbon in my office; let me show you.”
I nod slightly and sit forward, glancing at Wren beside me and she keeps a close eye on me as I push my chair out and stand. I follow closely behind Phillip until we’re entering his office, and as I take a step forward, I glance around the dark space.
When he closes the door behind us, I side-eye him as he speaks.
“Take a seat, Arlo.”
I take a careful seat in one of the leather seats as I watch him stroll over to a small drinks cabinet and that odd feeling is returning, raising all the flags, especially in this dark office which reminds me way too much of my own interior.
I observe as he pulls out a bourbon I’ve never seen before and two crystal glasses before walking my way and setting them down on the small table in front of me.
He takes a seat opposite me before he begins to pour us some of the amber liquid in each glass as he speaks.
“Shirakawa 1958.”
He places the bottle down in front of me and I lean forward, narrowing my eyes on the label.
“I paid 30k for that. Let me know what you think.”
My eyes meet him instantly and he passes a glass to me, which I take before he holds his up.
“What are we celebrating?”
He raises an eyebrow with a smirk.
“My first grandchild, of course.”
I examine him suspiciously before giving a hesitant nod and clinking my glass with his. He watches me take a sip with a small smile on his lips, waiting for my judgment, and when it hits my tongue, it tingles my taste buds in the best ways possible, and you can tell it’s the expensive stuff.
I keep a straight face as I sit back, lazily in the chair as I respond.
“Good shit.”
He lets out a laugh before sitting back himself and crosses his ankle over his knee while we stare at each other in cold silence, trying to work one another out, until he suddenly decides to speak first.
“So, what do you really do for a living, Arlo?”
I sweep my tongue piercing across my bottom lip, thinking before I lift my drink while keeping intense eye contact, and as the glass touches my bottom lip, I speak.
“Why don’t you tell me, Ghost?”