Page 4 of Bourbon Wishes (Wine Country Alphas #3)

I lean back in my chair, my fingers interlaced behind my head.

She's half right. She isn't submissive. What she craves isn't an exchange of power.

Hell will freeze over before she willingly gives that up.

What she wants is someone who can match her, someone who makes her so wild she'll do anything for another taste.

She wants someone who makes her want to let down her walls and trust him with her heart, her body, and her soul. And she hasn't found that man. Yet.

The prospect that she might be looking is grim as hell, especially since I know she belongs with me. I just don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to do about it.

My life would be a helluva lot less complicated if she didn't work for me.

I 'm still obsessing over that quandary when Trystan barges into my office after lunch, throwing himself down on the sofa in the corner with a grunted curse.

"Is there a reason you're in my office instead of yours?" I ask, scowling at him.

"Yes."

"And that reason is?"

"Your twin. He had sex on my desk, so now my office is here instead of in the restaurant." He smirks at me. "So that means I get to stop by whenever the fuck I feel like seeing your left eye twitch."

I pinch the bridge of my nose, sighing heavily. "Do you actually want anything, or did you come just to piss me off?"

"Option two."

"Naturally."

Tryst laughs softly, kicking his feet up on the arm of the sofa. "I heard we're getting a new printer."

This is the problem with working with family. They're always around, meddling, being nosy, and otherwise working my last fucking nerve. I love them to death, but Jesus Christ. Do they not have any business of their own?

"Yes, and?" I finally say.

"Haven has been asking for one for months."

"No, she hasn't."

"Yes, she has." His smirk grows. "Interesting that we're getting one now that Constance needs one."

"It's more cost-efficient to print on-site than it is to send materials out," I remind him. "We'll save several thousand in shipping costs alone just this year. The printer will pay for itself in two."

"Uh-huh."

"Can you please get the fuck out of my office?"

"No."

I consider launching a stapler at his head, but quickly decide the worker's comp claim probably won't be worth the momentary satisfaction the sound of it striking his hard ass head will bring me. Neither will having my ma all over my ass about it.

"Constance is an employee."

His shit-eating grin has me ready to punch a hole in the wall. Goddammit. I just fell right into his trap.

"So, I was right yesterday. You're definitely feeling her."

I set myself up for that, and I know it. But I grunt instead of answering him because it's not his business, just like I told him yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before that.

Frankly, I don't want my whole family knowing that our new employee is driving me up the wall. They'll try to push her my way, and then she'll either quit or file sexual harassment charges against me. Either way, it'll end with her leaving. I can't allow that to happen.

"Are you going to do something about it?" he asks when it becomes apparent that I'm not going to give him the confirmation he's after. "Because, gotta tell you, man. As fun as it is for us to watch you slowly lose your shit over her…you're acting like a fucking idiot."

"I'm not even doing anything."

"That's precisely the problem." He sits up long enough to grab a throw pillow from the back of the sofa to tuck beneath his head before he stretches out again like I'm a goddamn shrink and this is his session.

"You aren't doing anything. And that means, sooner or later, you're going to lose her to someone who is willing to do something. "

"If this is your way of telling me that someone is thinking about asking her out…"

"What? No. I'm just saying…" He breaks off with a chuckle. "But you're jealous as hell now, aren't you?"

I grunt instead of responding because, yeah, maybe I am feeling a little homicidal over the thought of anyone else touching her when I know damn well that she should be mine.

But if I fuck this up, we lose her. My whole family loves her.

She belongs here. They'll never forgive me if she quits because of me.

Goddammit.

"You want some advice?"

"Do I have a choice?" I ask dryly. "You never fucking stop giving unsolicited advice."

He flips me off with a grin on his face before he sobers. "Loving someone from afar is a bitch, Bastian. Don't put yourself in that box unnecessarily. It'll suffocate you."

Shit.

A well of empathy rolls through me as he glances away, unable to hold my gaze when we both know he's speaking from experience.

He's spent most of his life in love with my cousin, Chloe.

But that shit is more complicated than me being Constance's boss.

Chloe's brother is his best friend, and even though they aren't blood-related like we are, they were raised as cousins.

Aunt Cadence and Uncle Colton spent every summer here with us. Tryst feels like loving Chloe is wrong because our families are so intertwined, and there's no convincing him otherwise. But I don't think he'll ever get over her, either. He's never even tried.

"I'll take that under advisement," I mutter instead of giving him advice I know he won't hear. He never fucking does. When it comes to her, he isn't rational.

He closes his eyes like he's planning to fall asleep.

"If you don't get your big ass out of my office, I swear to Christ, I'll pay Oliver and Lucy to fuck on your new desk."

He cracks an eye open, looking over at me. "Fine, but how much do you think Uncle Carter would charge me to bend your mom over yours?"

I don't launch a stapler. But I do launch my pen cup.

He rolls off the couch, laughing as pens rain down on him like missiles. "Jesus Christ! I was kidding!"

"Get the fuck out, Tryst. Now."

He smirks, leaning down to snatch my favorite pen from the floor before tucking it into his pocket. "You're not getting this back," he says, striding toward the door with a smirk. "It's what you get for fucking throwing it at me."

"It should have been a stapler."

He flips me off before sailing out, leaving my door standing open.

"Dick," I mutter, glaring at the mess of pens I now have to pick up. Instead, I leave them there, staring into space.

His warning about Constance finding someone else drifts through my mind, blaring like a warning siren.

Fuck.

I push away from the desk, hauling myself to my feet. I'm not entirely sure where I'm going or what I'm doing until I find myself standing outside of her cracked office door.

I'm about to knock when I hear her laugh.

I freeze in my tracks, listening.

"I can't wait to see you," she says, a smile in her voice.

What the fuck?

She can't wait to see who?

"Yeah, we should definitely do that."

Do what? Who is she talking to, and why does she sound so happy about it?

"Okay. I will." She pauses and then laughs again. "I love you too."

My goddamn legs threaten to buckle as jealousy rips through me. What the fuck? Hell no, she doesn't love whoever has her laughing like that. She can't.

Except…what if I'm wrong?

What if I'm already too late?

The thought twists my stomach into knots.

I don't knock on her door. I fucking barge in like I own the place because, yeah, I actually do.

She glances up, startled, as she stashes her cellphone in her desk drawer. "Oh. It's you." Her smile slips. "Hey."

"What are you doing?"

"I was coming to see you, actually. I need to leave early today."

So she can go see whoever she was just talking to? Hell no.

"You can't."

"Why not?" she demands, already scowling at me.

Because I'm losing my fucking mind over you. Because you're supposed to be with me, not whoever that prick was. Because you're mine, dammit.

"We have a meeting tonight," I lie. "I need you there."

"What meeting?" She narrows her eyes suspiciously, turning to her calendar. "I don't have anything on my calendar."

"It just came up. It's at Della's downtown. That's why I'm here. In your office, I mean. I need you there."

"Can't someone else go in my place? I already have plans."

I cross my arms, glaring at her. Mad as hell because she has plans with that prick when she should have plans with me. That's my own fucking fault.

Christ, Trystan was right. He's going to love hearing that.

"We hired you to do a job, Constance. If you can't do it…" I trail off, not entirely sure where I'm heading with that. It's not like I'm going to fire her for telling me no.

But I guess she thinks so. She stiffens in outrage, her face going red. "Fine," she snaps. "Send me the details, and I'll make it work."

I should quit while I'm ahead. I know damn well that I should.

But something about the way she scowls at me turns me the fuck on, so I don't quit.

I push a little bit further just because I can.

Just because I'm an asshole. Just because I want every little reaction she'll give me. That's how hard up I am for her.

"You sure? If you aren't up for it, I'll find someone who can handle it."

My taunt lands exactly like I thought it would. She bristles, practically quivering in outrage. And I've never wanted to drop to my knees and taste every inch of her flushed skin more.

"I said I'll be there," she growls, her hands balled into fists.

I don't push again. I just jerk my head in a nod and storm out before I do something I know she'll regret…like fuck her over her desk.

Jesus Christ, I need to get it together.

And I also need to figure out what the fuck I'm going to tell her when she shows up tonight and finds out that I lied just to get her there.

She's going to be livid.

I can't wait.