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Focus!
“I’m having second thoughts on developing Newman’s farm. Let’s go with the original plans.”
“Can’t do that, mate. My investment was contingent on the expansion.”
I took a sharp breath. “Right. I thought so much. How much to buy you out?”
“No way. Promised my wife. She’s dying to get involved at the design level. You know—happy wife, happy life.” He chuckled.
“Can we somehow avoid that farm?”
“It’s happening. The tenants have received their orders to vacate by the end of the month. They agreed to the generous sum we offered without as much as an argument.”
Mm… not if you’re trying to make a local feisty girl happy.
“We’ll speak at the end of the week.” I ended the call.
I made a note to find an alternative for the Newmans. I thought of Declan’s boot camp and his organic farm idea. I could suggest that the Newmans manage the farm. There was also room for livestock and even a home.
Good. That’s the plan. Now I can move on.
I brought out my laptop and looked up Mirabel Storm’s Facebook page. She wasn’t taking my calls, so I decided to go and find her instead.
As I scrolled through Mirabel’s pictures, I fell into those addictive green eyes. Aside from arousing lust, her beauty bowled me over. It always had.
I clicked on a video of her performing. With that sultry voice, she oozed sensuality, like she was being pleasured one moment then pouring her heart out with evocative poetry the next. Even the way her mouth parted reminded me of her sighs when I was deep inside her.
Rivetted, I went from watching her beautiful, expressive face to her undulating hips and breasts.
All hot and aroused, I unzipped my pants and fisted my dick. I played the video again. It didn’t take me long to blow, jerking off not to porn, but to a folk singer.
Am I losing my mind?
After cleaning myself up, I clicked on her Facebook page and found that she was doing a gig tonight at the Green Room.
My phone buzzed, and I took the call. “Mother.”
“There’s a meeting at six sharp. The reading of the will.”
“So soon?” I squirmed at the thought of complex family business affairs.
“It’s been two weeks, Ethan.”
“Any news on the forensic reports?”
“Your brother’s been with the detective. Call him. I’ve got to go. Wear a suit. No ripped jeans.”
I let out a deep breath. “Okay.”
Declan waited for me at a bar close to the solicitor’s office. As I raised my arm to wave, I felt somewhat constricted by the tight jacket that the salesman had insisted fitted me like a glove. Perhaps I wasn’t used to wearing suits. The trousers clung to my legs too. The young salesman carried on about the perfect fit, wearing stars in his eyes. The shirt also fitted snugly, as he went on about showing off my abs. All those hours pumping iron and sneaking a few sessions at Reboot’s new gym had paid off.
“Dec?”
He nodded.
“Do you want another?” I pointed at his half-full pint.
He shook his head and stared down at his Rolex. “We’ve got to be there in half an hour. We have to make this quick.”
