Page 41 of Prey Tell
“Not everyone,” Jackson interjects, chewing. “Only some people.” I snort as I take a sip of beer. My brother can be so oblivious to social cues. I blame it on working with kids. He’s brutally honest—he has to be.
Jackson turns to me. “How was your weekend, Jules?”
I shrug.
I spent it researching shibari and flogging.
Coming to terms with my existential crisis.
Making a million pros and cons lists.
Considering celibacy.
“Fine. Just busy with my dissertation.”
He nods as he continues eating.
I love when my academic work can be used as a scapegoat. It’s one of the pros of being in academia—no one else really gets it unless they’re in academia, and I can get out of—or into—almost anything if I weaponize it in the right way. But of course, I’d never really taken advantage of that, because I enjoyed following the rules.
“How have you been, Miles?” I ask politely.
“Fucking busy,” he says, leaning back with his beer. “The company is doing well, though.”
I hardly know anything about Ravage Consulting Firm. All I know is that it’s located in the fanciest building downtown, and there are signs everywhere with their logo—a simple ‘R’ with a 3-pronged crown on top. Both Chase and Miles work there as the president and CEO, respectively. As far as I remember, they’re an investment firm.
He clears his throat and leans forward. For the first time since I’ve known him, I notice the edge of a thick, jagged scar running up the left side of his neck, ending just below his jawline. Even now, on a Sunday evening, he’s wearing a silvery dress shirt and dark gray slacks. Does the man own any casual clothing?
“You’re a doctor, right?” he asks me.
I shake my head. “No. I mean, yes.Technically.I’ll have a PhD, but I won’t be an MD. You wouldn’t want me volunteering as amedicaldoctor anytime soon,” I add, smiling as I tell him what I’ve told hundreds of people before him.
“Too bad,” he mutters, standing up and finishing his beer.
I let out a surprised laugh. “Why?”
“He’s looking for a fake wife,” Jackson says through bites.
I raise my brows conspiratorially. “Do tell.”
Miles walks back into the kitchen and throws his burrito wrapper away. “There’s nothing to tell. Your brother already said too much,” he grumbles, glaring at Jax. “Our PR team thinks bringing fresh blood into the Ravage family may help our image. Ergo, a fake wife. But she has to be normal.”
I open and close my mouth, looking at Jackson. “Normal?”
“Likeable. Someone to give the Ravage name a new reputation. Potential clients aren’t interested because of his last name. He thinks if he can bring a wife to the table, it might help his image,” Jackson explains.
I narrow my eyes. “Ah. I see. Sorry I couldn’t be of more help?”
Miles washes his hands and shakes his head as he dries them off. “I didn’t mean you. No offense.” My eyebrows pinch together. “Chase would never let me get within ten feet of you.”
The instant he says it, the room goes quiet. Jackson looks over at me with raised brows.
Oh god, are my cheeks bright red? They must be.
Luckily for me, Miles’ phone rings and he steps into the other room, his voice emanating importance to the person on the other line.
“Good burritos,” I say quickly, hoping my brother will forget what Miles said.
Jackson nods, completely oblivious. “The best.” His eyes rove over my face briefly. “You’ve been distant,” he says mid-chew, looking over at me. “Everything okay?”
