Page 24 of The Wildest One

“Your dad sounds like a smart man.”

I nodded. “The smartest I know, which means my future husband is going to have a lot to live up to.” I squeezed both sides of his mouth. “Since he’ll need to have a tongue like yours and a brain like my dad’s.”

FIVE

Beck

Even though we were in the middle of a run-down bar with plenty of wild shit to stare at, my eyes didn’t leave Jolie. They couldn’t; she looked too fucking gorgeous as she sat across from me at the small high-top table, face bare of makeup since she didn’t have any to put on, hair untamed and beautiful as ever.

I finally forced myself to take a quick glance around. “Shit, it’s been a long time since I went to a college bar.”

“Have you missed it?” She propped up her elbows, and I could tell from the movement that she was swinging her legs. “I imagine the places you go to in LA make this place look even divier than it is.”

I chuckled. “I’ve got nothing against a dive bar. In college, that’s mostly what I went to.”

I lifted the glass of a light draft I’d never heard of, and while I was bringing it up to my lips, she turned her head, giving me a chance to take in her profile. And that dress.Fuck. The style was a knee-length sweater that hugged her tits and narrowed in tighter as it reached her waist—a spot I couldn’t see, as it washidden by the table. My assistant had done a good job at picking it out, along with the knee-high boots. Both had been delivered to the hotel this morning, and they were sexy as hell on Jolie.

“When I do go out in LA, I mostly go to a club my family owns. It’s just easier that way since I get all the privacy I want.”

“Your family owns a club? Is it bad that I didn’t know that?”

I put my hand on the visor of my baseball hat after I set down my beer. “Not at all. It’s actually a relief that you don’t know. Most people who do, they tend to ask all the questions. Ones I’m not always up for answering.”

“If I’m ever in LA, I’ll have to check it out.” She tucked some of her locks behind her ear, but they didn’t stay, springing right back to her cheek a few seconds later.

I wanted to touch them.

I wanted to fucking touch her.

“It’s called Musik,” I explained. “We have several of them, all in different locations, and we’re building more. We own restaurants too.” I waited until our server delivered our next round of drinks before I continued, “Have you ever heard of a restaurant called Charred?”

Her neck craned back, a sight so stunning that my dick ached inside my boxer briefs, dying to be released. “Everyone has heard of Charred. At least everyone in my world. It’s one of the most popular restaurants here. It’s where my parents took me for my birthday.”

“That’s ours.”

Her eyes widened. “For real? Wow.”

“I’m not that active in the business as far as the day-to-day stuff is concerned. My siblings mostly run the operations. I pop in when they need me. Time, the obvious issue.”

“That’s badass though. Having multiple hustles going on at the same time, especially the ones you have—hockey, food, the club scene—and all of them being super successful.”

“We’ve had our ups and downs, but yes. Thank you.” I smiled. “Tell me, what’s going to be your hustle after you graduate? You said you work. What do you do? I don’t even think I know what you’re getting your degree in.”

“Marketing—digital mostly. I’m not bad at the art aspect, although I much prefer managing accounts to designing creatives. I am getting a minor in digital art, so I can handle both sides if I need to.” She rubbed her fingers together, the silver of her nails sparkling. “I work for my dad.”

“What kind of company is it?”

“He’s a venture capitalist and private equity investor. In an attempt to turn the companies around or build them—whatever the case is—he keeps the marketing in-house. That’s where I come in. And of course, his slew of other employees.”

“Did you just start working for him?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I started working for him as soon as I was big enough to carry mail from the mailroom to the offices.” She ran her finger around the top of her tumbler. “I’ve held almost every position at his company—phone answerer, photocopier, lunch grabber, errand runner, restroom cleaner”—she grimaced—“and now, all these years later, I have two of my own accounts. Once I graduate, assuming I continue to prove myself, I’ll be able to take on much more.”

“Assuming you prove yourself? You’re saying your dad won’t just hand you more responsibility once you get your degree?”

Her back straightened, a posture that looked all business. “You don’t know my dad. When it comes to his company, I’m not his daughter. I’m his employee, and he treats me that way, which I suppose is how it should be. So, no, I get no special treatment, like getting handed something I haven’t earned. I’m expected to deliver a service, the same way everyone else who works there is.”

I liked this side of her. It wasn’t a soft side; it was a confident side.