“Yeah?” I ask, tilting my head to the side. I can tell he’s about to kiss me, but I want to be in control, to be the person to make the first move. A reckless part of me knows that Evan’s watching, and I want to push him again, see if he’ll finally stop watching over us and I crash my mouth to Max’s.
He wraps one hand around my neck, pulling me further into him until there is no more room for me to go. My breasts are flush against his chest now and I swallow the groan he makes as I rock my hips against his, loving the feeling that he has over me. He wraps his hand tighter around my neck, curling into my hair as he deepens the kiss and I open my eyes as I gasp at how good it feels.
When my vision clears I catch Evan just…staring.
What the fuck is his problem? I thought the kiss would at least scare him off a little, not spur him on. Instead, there’s a little more emotion in his face this time. Anger, maybe? I flip him off behind Max's back, still kissing him, before tugging on Max’s shirt because holy shit, he really knows how to kiss.
When I come down from the high, panting and staring up at him, his lips are swollen, his brown eyes dilated. This is how I like men to look; dishevelled and still hungry.
I look over his shoulder, hoping to catch Evan’s reaction, but he’s gone. I look back at Max and I can’t help but smile at his shocked face, loving the fact that I did that to him.
“Do you kiss all of your new friends like that?” he asks, his hand still curled in the back of my neck, and I melt into his touch.
Maybe it’s the shitty week I’ve had or the fact that I’ve been feeling out of control recently or the very weird encounter with Evan, but I lean up on my tiptoes, press another kiss to his cheek and whisper, “Just the ones I want to see again.”
I can do this, right? I can have a no-strings-attached relationship with this gorgeous human as some stability over the next few weeks. I’m not expecting to fall madly in love with him. I know, just by looking at him and feeling him, that we’ll be a good match for what I want right now.
Whatever the hell that is.
13
Evan
There are many things that I love in the world. I love music and the feeling that I get when I get in front of a piano. I love my slightly dysfunctional family. I love school, numbers, and learning. I love money and power and the opportunities I get when I have it.
One thing I don’t love; dinners with my dad on a random Saturday evening for no other reason than he “wanted to see me.”
Apparently a half-an-hour conversation on the phone about my mom wasn’t enough family time for him. This would be fine if I hadn’t been under surveillance for the last two years and especially over the last few days as we navigate the Voss situation.
Samuel Branson is a nice guy. He always has been just that…nice.He’s kept a clean public record and knows exactly how to handle the press the way his dad taught him. People cast him as the villain because he’s a man with power and he might not be putting it in the best places, but he’s trying.
Secretly, I think he’s been trying to redirect B & Co for a few years now, subtly creating more sustainable and environmentally friendly resources to help strengthen our brand and community. But once someone has one opinion on you, it’s hard for them to change it. Especially in a day and age where public apologies are meaningless and cancel culture is so vehement.
That’s why the Voss’ are not my dad’s biggest cheerleaders. It’s understandable. My dad knows how to push the competition until it gets too far, until it’s borderline unhealthy and some people are sick of it. Hell, I kind of hate it too, but business is business.
Especially with whatever happened with Scarlett at the bar last night, I haven’t been able to sleep properly. After getting to know her a little more, watching her grind up against some rando is not something I exactly want to see.
I suddenly feel protective over her. It might be a little misplaced given my situation and my need for her to stay on track with the investigation, but I just couldn’t stop watching her. If I couldn’t tell her to stop, I could at least make sure it didn’t get out of control.
Well, that was until it got too much and watching her felt like I was trying to kill myself. You try and watch someone you’ve been arguing with for two years straight grind up against someone without a care in the world and see if it doesn’t alter your brain chemistry.The worst part of all? For a second – and I mean asecond– I wished I was in his place instead.
Since we’ve sat down to eat, both of us at heads of the long table in the sleek, black dining room, my dad has hardly said a word. Am I supposed to say something? Is this how these check-ins are supposed to go?
We’re just staring at our food without speaking. I push my sprouts to the side of my plate; I’ve never really liked them, but my dad insists on making them with every meal. I clear my throat after taking a sip of the sparkling water beside me.
“Do you want a run-down, or… what?” I ask playfully. My dad drops his fork onto the table, the clanging sound echoing off the walls. There’s no one else but us here, other than Mila wandering the halls.
“Do you have one?”
“Sort of,” I begin. He nods for me to continue. “We know that shipments changed for the diamond imports and that the uncle was somehow unaware of this. We know that Mateo signed off the change in shipments and that the people outside the jewellery store must be the ones in charge of it from their end. My only question is why would he change it and why is Giovanni unsure as to whether it happened or not?”
My dad hums, the sound so deep that it’s barely noticeable. “They have to be linked to Tinzin somehow. The dates of when they signed off the contract for the diamonds was around the same time Tinzin was starting to get discovered. Perhaps they’re working together.”
I nod, considering it for a moment. “Yes, but why? Why would Mateo do something so reckless? Scarlett said herself that he would never intentionally put their family at risk.”
“Maybe it wasn’t him,” my dad mutters. My stomach drops a little at the suggestion. It has to be him. As much as he’s a nice guy on the surface, an extra income through drugs and black market deals are common in major companies. Sure, they’re not common with ones like ours, but it’s a possibility. Some people would do anything for an extra bit of cash in their hands.
“Who else could it be? There’s no one else that has any reason to try and go against the status quo. It just doesn’t make any damn sense,” I try to explain, huffing as I run my hand through my hair. Naturally, my hand latches onto the back of my neck, scratching like I have a bite. I can't keep getting worked up over this. I need to figure this out, tie it into a neat bow and move on.
