Page 31 of Wicked Praise

Jacob slid his hand into his pants pocket. “What can I say? I get bored with one. And there’s a reason—”

“Whatever you are going to say to my wife, do not finish.” Logan said firmly. “Do not.”

Blake watched Jacob smirk and his eyes drift out across the room.

Yeah, his brother was into some group stuff and while it wasn’t his thing, it definitely wasn’t cocktail hour conversation.

“I mean, I’ve probably written a scene or two.” Emma shrugged.

“I don’t fucking care,” Logan said.

Jacob snickered. “My lips are sealed.”

It went without saying, wherever the Dufort men went, women were drawn to them. Yes, they were blessed with great genes. Yes, they rich as fuck. Yes, their mothers wanted them to marry Dufort’s.

Their cousins might be walking down the aisle like it was Black Friday at Macy’s, but both Blake and Jacob were many years from matrimonial bliss.

Their careers were their focus.

And yes, fucking gorgeous women.

Plural...at once, in Jacob’s case.

What Blake needed more than anything was a four-leafed clover, a stroke of luck, a brilliant idea. Something to save InkWell.

All day he’d paced his office, scribbled on his whiteboard, and googled businesses that had encountered major competitor threats and neutralized them. But he was no further along than he had been on Friday.

Before he wrapped up for the day, Blake had sent his in-house lawyer and Tate an email saying he wanted to meet with them to go over the situation.

So unless he was struck by lightning and came up with a brilliant idea, Blake was looking at some troubling months ahead.

Might as well enjoy himself while he was here.

Glancing around, he took in the usual. The room was packed with tuxedos, diamonds, gowns, and perfume. The four of them wandered farther into the room and began chatting with people they knew. Some they didn’t.

It was all business networking at the crux of it. Someone wanted their brand or money invested somewhere.

Or for them to marry their daughter.

“You should come fishing with us one weekend, Blake,” Frank Hendry said. “My wife makes a great pot pie, and you haven’t met my daughter Melody, have you?”

Yes, he had.

And no, thank you.

Blake had no plans to take a woman home tonight. He was still riding the wave of the heart-stopping orgasms he’d had last night. Visions of Bella riding his cock and those beautiful tits of hers bouncing as he held her bound were hard to forget.

She’d declined his invitation for seconds and the truth was, he’d never offered it before and was surprised Bella had declined.

He also wasn’t sure he believed her. Those eyes when the elevator door closed had said way more than her abruptno.

So while he’d been consumed with making sure he wasn’t the first Dufort to make the headlines withFirst Dufort to Fail,Blake had also spent much of the day wishing his sexy pleasure-seeker was still tied up in his bed.

Sipping the golden liquid until the glass was empty, Blake turned to seek out a fresh glass. That was when he caught sight of silky black hair atop a slim neck he’d had his mouth on a few hours ago.

Well, well, well.

What was Bella doing at the fundraiser? She had told him she was a Montgomery, but he’d got the impression, due to her role as a museum coordinator, this wasn’t her sort of thing.

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