Page 150
Story: Wildest Dreams
“I don’t think there’s any surviving your sister.”
“Speaking of her, I heard she’s a wreck too. Maybe it’s not over?”
“Wait, what?” My head jerked up.
The fucker was already pulling the door handle open, going his merry way. “Ciao, assface.” He saluted. “See you later.”
“Wait, wait.” I shot up, stalking after him. He slipped out, and I smashed right into the body of Bruce Marshall.
Yay fucking me.
Even his sorry ass of a face, giant cowboy hat, and ridiculous buckle couldn’t spoil my mood.
Dylan was miserable? That was great news. Maybe I still had a chance.
“Howdy, partner.” He tipped his hat down.
Another bout of nausea washed over me. This time, I wasn’t drunk, just grossed out by the conversation that was yet to come.
“I’m gonna go ahead and invite myself in and make myself some coffee while you explain to me the whole lil-miss debacle.” He breezed past me, heading straight to my coffee machine. After flicking it on, he leaned against my counter, curling his hands over the edge and giving me a look.
I could pull a story out of my ass about how we were together and had broken up recently because of the Claire Larsen fiasco. Dylan would back me up on it, I knew. And still, something had become indifferent in me.
If I couldn’t have her, nothing else was worth owning. Including a billion-dollar company.
I was done jerking this nutjob off. If he didn’t want what I was offering, he was free to go.
After paying me seventy million dollars as part of a walk-out clause. Thank you, Tate Blackthorn.
“You want the truth?” I chuckled humorlessly.
“If it ain’t too hard for you to utter.” He took off his hat and placed it next to the sink. “You gave me ten different versions of a lie so far, and none of ’em did the trick.”
“It was a ruse,” I said flatly. “You were ancient and backward, and I figured if I played house with someone to convince you I was a decent human, you’d sign the contract. Dylan was here, familiar, and available. You caught us trying to rip each other’s heads off, drew your own conclusion, and we went along with it.”
“What’d she get out of the bargain?”
Her pussy licked at least twice a day. Period days included.
“Money.”
“So you lied to me?”
“I lied to you,” I confirmed.
“Tricked me,” he continued.
“Look, you can use all the synonyms in the world. Answer’s still yes.”
“You sure all of it was an act?” He cocked a bushy white eyebrow. “’Cause y’all sure as heck looked chummy.”
I fingered my jaw, rolling my tongue from one side to the other. “Lines got blurry after a while. She needed some help with her kid, so I babysat for her. We spent some time together. So yeah. It was business with benefits.”
“Past tense?” He studied me intently. He’d completely forgotten about the coffee he was going to make for himself.
“Past tense. She moved back to Maine.”
“You dumped her after I signed the contract?” he boomed, sending his palm crashing against the counter. Spit adorned the side of his mouth.
“Speaking of her, I heard she’s a wreck too. Maybe it’s not over?”
“Wait, what?” My head jerked up.
The fucker was already pulling the door handle open, going his merry way. “Ciao, assface.” He saluted. “See you later.”
“Wait, wait.” I shot up, stalking after him. He slipped out, and I smashed right into the body of Bruce Marshall.
Yay fucking me.
Even his sorry ass of a face, giant cowboy hat, and ridiculous buckle couldn’t spoil my mood.
Dylan was miserable? That was great news. Maybe I still had a chance.
“Howdy, partner.” He tipped his hat down.
Another bout of nausea washed over me. This time, I wasn’t drunk, just grossed out by the conversation that was yet to come.
“I’m gonna go ahead and invite myself in and make myself some coffee while you explain to me the whole lil-miss debacle.” He breezed past me, heading straight to my coffee machine. After flicking it on, he leaned against my counter, curling his hands over the edge and giving me a look.
I could pull a story out of my ass about how we were together and had broken up recently because of the Claire Larsen fiasco. Dylan would back me up on it, I knew. And still, something had become indifferent in me.
If I couldn’t have her, nothing else was worth owning. Including a billion-dollar company.
I was done jerking this nutjob off. If he didn’t want what I was offering, he was free to go.
After paying me seventy million dollars as part of a walk-out clause. Thank you, Tate Blackthorn.
“You want the truth?” I chuckled humorlessly.
“If it ain’t too hard for you to utter.” He took off his hat and placed it next to the sink. “You gave me ten different versions of a lie so far, and none of ’em did the trick.”
“It was a ruse,” I said flatly. “You were ancient and backward, and I figured if I played house with someone to convince you I was a decent human, you’d sign the contract. Dylan was here, familiar, and available. You caught us trying to rip each other’s heads off, drew your own conclusion, and we went along with it.”
“What’d she get out of the bargain?”
Her pussy licked at least twice a day. Period days included.
“Money.”
“So you lied to me?”
“I lied to you,” I confirmed.
“Tricked me,” he continued.
“Look, you can use all the synonyms in the world. Answer’s still yes.”
“You sure all of it was an act?” He cocked a bushy white eyebrow. “’Cause y’all sure as heck looked chummy.”
I fingered my jaw, rolling my tongue from one side to the other. “Lines got blurry after a while. She needed some help with her kid, so I babysat for her. We spent some time together. So yeah. It was business with benefits.”
“Past tense?” He studied me intently. He’d completely forgotten about the coffee he was going to make for himself.
“Past tense. She moved back to Maine.”
“You dumped her after I signed the contract?” he boomed, sending his palm crashing against the counter. Spit adorned the side of his mouth.
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