Page 18 of Emmett

Oh, yeah. She’s a snuggler.

Carefully, I peel her hand away from my body and slide out of the bed, trying not to wake her up before pulling mypants from the chair at her desk and bouncing in place as I bring them up my legs.

Mariah is dead-to-the-world asleep and still naked in her bed, draped in nothing but her all-too-fluffy duvet. I could wake her up; it wouldn’t be the first time that we’ve had a quick wake up call, but I decide against it and pull out my phone instead to order her some breakfast for delivery while I make my way out of the condo, dodging her nosy-ass roommates.

SEVEN

Nash

No matter how many times I get to put someone in their place, it never gets old. As I breeze through the office of Fowler Enterprise, the anticipation of the feeling is almost enough to give me a semi.

Every time I come here, the guy has his door wide open, probably to advertise what anice guyhe is. ‘My door is always open,’ I’m almost certain he tells all of his employees. Gag me.

I don’t bother announcing my presence before stepping into the office and dropping into one of the leather chairs in front of Colt Fowler’s desk.

“Fowler,” I greet him as I pluck a framed photo from his desk and turn it over in my hand. Of course he would have a cheesy, posed picture of his kids on his desk.

Snatching the photo from my hand, he says, “Nash Montgomery, to what do I owe the…pleasure.”

“That boy of yours is trying to cause you trouble.”

That catches his attention.

His brown eyes snap to mine, narrowing as he studies me, and I challenge him with a smirk, crossing an ankle over my knee.

“What did he do?”

“He reneged on our deal,” I reply, picking a piece of lint from my slacks, flicking it over the side of the chair. “Hebrought some of his friends into one of my clubs with him on Friday night.”

“My son doesn’t break his word,” he tells me. “You’re mistaken.”

“I saw him myself. Now, does this need to be an issue between us, or…?”

His eyes lock onto mine once more and I bask in the silent challenge behind them, meeting him blow for blow without either of us even speaking a word. Long moments pass before he finally reaches forward to pull the receiver of his phone to his ear as he dials out a number.

“Emmett, I need to see you in my office,” he says, his eyes not leaving mine.

His son walks in no less than two minutes later, and I turn in my chair to greet him, watching as his eyes widen and his throat bobs when he sees me.

“Uh,” he stammers, forcing his eyes over to his father. “What’s up?”

“Nash was just telling me about Friday night.”

I barely put in the effort to hide my amusement as the kid’s face pales. “Friday night,” he echoes.

Patting the chair next to mine in silent invitation to sit, I tell him, “You and a group of your friends visited Arcane.”

“Oh,” he says. “Yeah. Just for a couple hours though, we didn’t do anything crazy.”

It sounds almost as if he’s trying to placate his father; I figured that the kid was troubled, but isn’t he grown? This is pathetic; it’s like watching a teenager try not to get grounded over getting a little rowdy at a house party. What’s next, Daddy’s going to take his phone away for breaking curfew?

“Nash,” Colt props his elbows on the desk, linking his fingers, “you can go. Thank you.”

Letting out a laugh, I shake my head. “Oh no,” I say, cozying myself further into the seat, “I’m just fine here. In fact, why don’t you have that little wife of yours bring me a cup of coffee? Be hospitable.”

“She will not be doing that,” he tells me through gritted teeth.

Silently, the kid moves toward the seat next to mine and lowers himself into it, and I turn to face him, leaning closer.