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Chapter12
Weston
Iglanced at my watch; the seconds ticking by with agonizing slowness. Each click echoed in my head, a relentless reminder of the time slipping away. My fingers found my bottom lip, teeth sinking into the soft flesh as a familiar sting of anxiety gnawed at my insides.
“Weston.” Kent’s voice pulled me back, and I watched him gesture to some document the paralegal held out. “What do you think?”
“Uh-huh,” was all I managed, not even sure what I was agreeing to. My gaze drifted again to the sleek hands of my Rolex—6:22 p.m.
The office around us buzzed with the mundane chatter of legal discourse, but it might as well have been white noise. I was trapped in that morning’s encounter, replaying it like a looping film reel in my mind’s eye. Darius’s smirk, the way his smiley piercing caught the light when he told me to fuck off—it was intoxicating.
Kent was still talking, something about settlements and prenups, but the words were hollow. They passed through me, leaving no trace as I counted down the minutes. 6:23 p.m. The anticipation was a tight coil in my gut, ready to spring.
“Weston.” Kent snapped his fingers, an attempt to seize my drifting attention.
I jerked my head up, feigning interest. “Sorry, what?”
“Never mind.” He sighed, irritation lacing his tone while the paralegals exchanged uneasy glances.
6:28 p.m. My pulse throbbed in my temples, a rhythmic dance that matched the ticking of the clock. Every fiber of my being screamed for release from this purgatory of legalese and pretense. The room felt smaller, walls inching closer, suffocating me with the weight of expectations and responsibilities I couldn’t give two shits about—not with Darius waiting.
“Are we done here?” My voice was sharper than I intended, but I couldn’t contain the urgency that laced every word.
“Almost,” Kent replied, oblivious to the chaos brewing beneath my tailored suit.
6:29 p.m. Fuck me. I was shocked I could sit still. It was a battle in its own right. I chewed on my bottom lip. I only did that when something was driving me up the fucking wall. I could almost feel Darius’s touch ghosting over me, promising the sweet burn of forbidden pleasure.
“Wrap it up,” I ordered, more to myself than to anyone else in the room. It was time to shed this facade and surrender to the yearning that clawed at my insides, demanding to be sated.
Kent muttered something under his breath, but I didn’t catch it. Didn’t care to. The moment the last word of dismissal was uttered, I shot up from my chair, a bullet from a gun, and marched to my office. The steel in my spine had nothing on the iron will that propelled me forward. No goodbyes, no lingering looks; the world outside the anticipation building within me might as well have been smoke, insubstantial and irrelevant.
“Weston!” Kent’s voice clawed at my back, but I wouldn’t—couldn’t—yield. “Wes?”
His plea bounced off the walls, a futile attempt to penetrate the barrier I’d erected around myself. The door to my sanctuary closed behind me with a click that echoed the finality in my heart.
“Jesus, make yourself scarce much?” Kent appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with that casual arrogance that made women swoon.
“Got plans,” I grunted, shoving my tablet into my briefcase with more force than necessary. Each item I packed was another layer of armor falling away, revealing the raw, hungry beast beneath.
“Come on, my wife’s throwing some shindig at our condo. She’d love to see you.” His words were an invitation laced with the unspoken need for familial cover, a shield against the probing eyes of his perfect society wife.
“Can’t,” I snapped, fingers fumbling over the zipper. “Something else.”
“Something or someone?” His grin was all teeth. That was Kent, always sniffing out the scent of scandal like a goddamn bloodhound. But this trail? It led to a place he couldn’t follow.
“Fuck off, Kent.”
Closing the satchel, my fingers clenched tight around the handle. Kent leaned in on the edge of my desk. His eyes flicked down, then up, a knowing smirk twisting his lips.
“Who are you meeting at the club?” he drawled, toying with the corner of that black card peeking out from my wallet.
“None of your business,” I shot back, harsh, slicing through the bullshit.
“Secret’s safe with me, bro.” He chuckled. “You already know I fuck everyone but my wife.”
His laughter grated on my nerves, raw, like sandpaper on skin. Shoving my tablet into the leather depths, my keys jangled loud in the silence that followed—my cue to leave.
“Keep your mouth shut,” I warned him, voice low, as I strode towards the door.
