Page 48

When I spot my dad laughing loudly at something Ezra says at some point, I do my very best not to think about the fact that Ezra is talking to my father with my panties in his pocket. Even if the heated look Ezra gives me over the crowd makes it almost impossible not to, especially considering how…breezy it is under my dress.

And when Ezra leaves sometime later, I watch him as he goes, casting me one last lingering look before he disappears through the wooden gate that leads out of the backyard toward the front of the house. It only takes moments after that for a buzzing in the pocket of my dress to make me jump, and that one text ensures that I will be thinking about Ezra for theentirenight, if not well into tomorrow.

Asshole:Next time I want you in a bed, and I want you for the whole night. Maybe it will be enough time to do the things I’ve been thinking about doing to you.

Twelve

Ezra

Sour Patch:If you don’t stop bothering me, I’m going to block your number.

My entire face splits into a wide grin as I read her text. At first glance, one might think I’ve lost my mind, to be so elated by it, but those people wouldn’t know Dani like I do. Her texts in the week following the Fourth of July party have been both the same and yet vastly different from the ones we’ve exchanged in the past—that same prickly edge to her words but with less…bite than before. I would never point out such a thing to her; she’d probably run for the hills if I did, but still it makes me smile to know it.

Me:I miss you too.

I tuck my phone in my pocket before she can reply, still grinning as I imagine her flushed expression when she reads mymessage. I can picture her sitting at her desk in her office as she reads it—her teeth pressed against her soft lower lip and her dark brows pulled tight—but I know that she won’t actually block my number. Just like I know something shifted between us last weekend. Not that either of us have discussed it, since I know that this too would most likely have Dani bolting. Almost like a rabbit that senses it’s being hunted by a fox, and I can’t pretend I haven’t always loved to chase her. Even more so now that she’s slowing down enough to let me close the gap.

“Why are you smiling like that?”

My expression falters as I catch sight of my brother leaving his office just down the hall from mine, effectively making it impossible to duck inside and avoid speaking to him. I smooth my features into something more passive.

“I was just imagining what it would be like to buy out the floor above us and move my office away from yours.”

Eli rolls his eyes. “Cute. Have you finished those briefs I emailed you about?”

“I have,” I tell him. “Still not sure why you’re checking in on my case. One you aren’t assigned to.”

“I don’t keep an eye on your cases,” Eli responds coolly. “I keep an eye on you.”

In a family that was less fucked up, one might think this was a nice thing for Eli to do. That he was being a good brother by looking out for me, but I know better. Eli is too much like Alexander. Everything he does is for his own benefit.

“I can handle myself,” I say tightly. “I’ve been doing it for years.”

Eli shrugs, as if it’s debatable. God, what I wouldn’t give toactuallymove my office. Hell, to quit this fucking firm altogether. Even if it’s not possible, it’s nice to fantasize about.

“Dad wants to see you,” he tells me, effectively ending our conversation. “He’s in his office.”

“I’ll go see him after—”

“He made it very clear he wanted to see you the second you got in.”

I clench my teeth. Every fiber of my being wants to argue, to tell the both of them that they can fuck right off into next week for all I care—but again, it’s only something I can fantasize about. It’s not something I can actually do.

“Fine,” I manage. “I’ll head that way.”

“Good.” Eli nods. “I’ll check with you on those briefs later.”

He strides off before I can remind him yet again that this is not his case—leaving me fuming in his wake as he often does. It’s amazing how quickly my family can shift my mood; it was only minutes ago that I felt almost like I was floating, and now my stomach feels sour.

I steel myself for more fuckery as I tread down the hall to the corner office Alexander occupies, almost running into someone stepping out of it as I’m reaching for the doorknob. I feel hot anger licking at my chest when a familiar woman nods her head at me in greeting, and a quick glance down the length of her reveals obviously mussed hair and one too many undone buttons of her blouse.

“Ezra,” Bridgett greets me demurely.

I don’t offer her any pleasantries, settling on a nod. I refuse to make nice with the woman my father is sticking his dick in on a regular basis. A woman who isn’t my mother. He doesn’t even try to hide it. Quite the opposite, it’s like hewantsme to know.

I take a fortifying breath as I listen to the fading sounds of Louboutins that I’m sure Alexander bought for Bridgett clickingagainst the tile, and let it out shakily before wrenching the door to my father’s office open and stepping inside.

“Finally,” Alexander says with a huff. “Where have you been?”