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They exchanged glances, shrugging while shaking their heads. I focused my attention on William instead.
“No one knows,” he rolled his eyes.
“I would have never him let win anyway,” I declared, “and I was prepared to take the bid as high as I needed.”
“Or the guns?” My friend, Blaine, chimed in from the side of the room.
My eyes darted toward him quickly. Before I could respond, Tanya interrupted my thought.
“So, she will be okay here then?”
“Of course,” I nodded, “but give me some time with her then you can visit her as much as you want.” Biting my bottom lip, I paused. My eyes darted toward the wall as I stared blankly. “I don't want her to get suspicious.”
Tanya was a bold woman in general, but she never crossed me in the month I had known her. We met when she began to work for William.
Balling her fists, she rested them on her hips as her eyes trailed down my body and up again. Tilting my head, I waited for her to stop. She jumped, defensively crossing her arms over her midsection when she noticed I was glaring at her.
“Do you need something?”
“You know you'll have to tell her how this all happened right?”
“Excuse me?”
Raising her hand, she pressed her fingertips to her forehead. “She was terrified but now she hates me,” she carefully articulated, her eyes finding mine once again, “and she has no idea what's actually going on.”
I nodded. “I will tell her in time but right now is not that moment,” my jaw stiffened, “and she would never believe me anyway.”
“You like her a lot,” Tanya grinned widely.
“Liam,” I growled, “keep your pet on a leash before I kill her.”
Tanya inhaled sharply, dropping her head as I shot daggers her way. Her gaze fell to the floor as her smile faded into a hint of a lingering smirk. My eyes narrowed on William's. He cleared his throat, nudging her ever so slightly in the side.
“Babe, you have to learn how to speak to him and what is appropriate,” he gently scolded.
Tanya buried her face into her palms, apologizing, “Sorry, I'm not used to this lifestyle yet.”
Wrapping his arm around her, William pulled her into his body, smiling, “Well you better get used to it, baby, because you're not going anywhere.” He planted a soft peck on top of her head. “You're mine,” he asserted.
I gave them both a nod. They turned to leave but I called after William. He whispered something to Tanya, and she exited the room before he spun back to me. Taking a few steps toward my desk, he folded his arms waiting for me to speak. I inhaled deeply as I raised my hand to the stubble on my chin, stroking it.
“I want Jesse brought to me tonight,” I ordered, tapping on the surface of my desk with my index finger. “Got it?”
He nodded as he reached out to shake my hand before he left. I lifted my hand in the air, signaling for my other men to leave me alone. The minute the door closed I sat, running my fingers through my hair, sighing.
Reaching for my cigarettes, I pulled one out of the pack, lighting it. Taking a long drag, I leaned forward, propping my elbows on my desk. Mindlessly, I slowly twisted my glass back and forth in deep thought.
To say I envied William and Tanya was an understatement. They once had a simple arrangement, but William was growing to love her. It was apparent. The relationship was now confusing, but they understood it, which was all that mattered.
Tanya had applied for a job with William's company after leaving her position at the bar. The minute he interviewed her, he took a liking to her. He would spoil her, taking her to dinners; no masks, no facades, no holding back.
Tanya being a sexual person, was ready to sleep with him the minute he wanted it. She went from being his, what society labels, a Sugar Baby to being someone he could see himself with. He would not admit that verbally yet, but I saw it in the way he treated her. He never treated women with the kind of respect he gave Tanya. There was no doubt they would end up married one day.
I was not a big fan of breakfast in general. Not because I did not like the food, I was just never used to eating breakfast in the morning. However, I was starving. Suddenly, there was a knock at my bedroom door. Was it odd that I was hoping it would be the mysterious man? I peeked at myself in the mirror, smoothing my outfit before I stepped over to the door, opening it. I wanted to get some answers from him. Instead, I was face to face with a chef.
“Good morning, Miss,” he greeted me in a French accent, wheeling a silver cart to the center of the room, uncovering multiple platters of food.
“Wow,” I blurted, my eyes widening, “um thank you.”
