Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 27906 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27906 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Okay.
Truthfully.
Too fucking close.
One more inch and my fist will help relocate him to another galaxy far, far away.
Yeah.
Different fandom.
But still.
“Little space, dude,” I unhappily grunt at the stranger.
His dark brows dart down in displeasure at the same time his Klingon approved jaw shape lowers to bite back; unfortunately for him, my fake girlfriend’s feigned surprise cuts him off, “Ohmygod, Wheeler.” She slyly removes her finger from my skin, unknowingly pouring fuel on the sparked rage caused by his interruption. “What are you doing here?” I gradually lower my hands yet allow them to indulge in a gentle brushing of her shoulders and arms, a brushing that gets me cockily smirking due to the shivers it sends down her spine. “Star Trek’s never been your thing.”
“But you always have been, peaches,” he smoothly states in return, large palms sliding into his jeans.
“But she won’t ever be again,” I declare without an inch of softness in my delivery.
He shifts his crystal stare to me prior to informing, “Wheeler Gentry.”
“Justus Reese.”
Neither of us reach for the other’s hand.
Why should we?
This isn’t post a less than hostile company takeover in Montana.
Or a round of golf for a philanthropy photo op in So Cal.
I don’t need to shake his hand.
The cameras aren’t rolling.
The media isn’t watching.
The need to step into my expensive Mr. Nice Guy shoes just isn’t here.
Hell, I’m tempted to toss on a pair of Wes’s favorite Fuck Off loafers.
Show him the level of ruthlessness I’m capable of reaching for the people I care about.
“You look familiar,” Wheeler murmurs, head tilting slightly to one side.
“Funny,” my fingers link with my girl’s allowing them to be lifted to my lips, “you don’t.”
She smiles over the kiss delivered to her knuckles prompting him to huff, “We’ve met before.”
“I meet a lot of people. I’m one of the board members for Wilcox Enterprises.”
“Pretty sure it was at a charity auction.”
“I go to a lot of those on behalf of the company. You’ll have to be more specific if you would like me to be impressed.”
He struggles not to narrow his stare in irritation.
What?!
I do!
Part of the whole “Face” of Wilcox Enterprises arrangement Wes and I have.
Sure, it’s a little different now.
I thank Bryn for that.
I thank that crazy chick for so much but especially that.
It’s good to have him out of the estate.
Back in the office.
Spending more time in the spotlight I stood in for him for years.
I don’t mind having my photo taken or kissing ass or playing the role of Number One like a good second in command should.
I’m just grateful now it’s an option versus a requirement.
Sure, the world isn’t cooing over his burn scars, but it’s not entirely sickened by it either.
“Might’ve been for Bennett Enterprises?” Wheeler casually throws out. “Or Frost?”
“Perhaps.” Disinterest lingers in my tone. “Our company does business with both.”
“Well, you’re not who I’ve got business with here.” His attention swings back to the beauty in our presence. “Can we go somewhere and talk, J?” One small glance of disgust in my direction precedes him adding, “Alone.”
“No,” I answer on her behalf, frame strengthening to its full 6’0 length. “My girlfriend is kind of in the middle of a date with me, so it sounds like you’ve got business with me after all.”
Without bothering to meet my glare, he grunts, “Later?”
“We’ll be in the middle of something else then,” J saucily announces after a suggestive bite to her bottom lip. “Probably ‘til the morning.”
As if summoned to the captain’s chair, my cock begins to rise, prompting me to casually adjust myself, an action that gets her not only snickering, but swaying closer once more.
Would it be wrong to bang my fake girlfriend on the first night?
Is there some sort of rule against it?
Wheeler fails to swallow his grumble of disapproval. “Can we at least try to catch up at some point during the convention?”
“No promises.”
“That doesn’t sound like a no,” he cheekily points out of.
“No was literally in her answer,” I jab back.
“No doesn’t always mean no,” argues the asshole it’s getting harder not to punch.
“See, it’s pricks like you that make it harder for chicks like her to actually trust decent dudes like me.”
“And that’s the game buzzer,” J uncomfortably declares at the same time she gently pushes his frame away from her. “You should go before security gets involved.”
“Only question is will it be it yours or mine, beloved.”
The swoon that flutters through the air redirects my full attention to her as she professes, “I like that.”
“In English or Betazoid?” flirtatiously flies free.
“Both.” She inches her mouth towards mine. “Either.”
Our lips barely manage to feather one another’s when Wheeler rudely announces, “I’ll be around, J.”
The two of us watch him in tandem meander away, yet it’s her who quietly asks, “How’d you know I have security here with me?”