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Just then, a pretty blonde with legs for days walked by. I spun in my stool to get a better look. She winked at me, noticing me staring at her.
Jax huffed and said one word. “Trouble.”
I finished off my drink and set it down behind me. I leaned in. “I think the word you’re looking for isfun.” And with that, I was off on the chase.
Jax hated my choice of women lately. He hated my choice of bars even more.
Mostly because I had us frequenting spots where people of my title and stature wouldn’t dare to enter, but I knew this world was more real than any world my father tried to make me a part of.
Money is good. But living, really living, that’s worth so much more.
When we got home that night, a courier was waiting for us with the doorman.
“What’s this about, Tom?” I said, staring at the manila envelope the man held out for me.
“He said he couldn’t leave until you signed, Weston.”
“Is that so?” Jax snatched it from the courier and read the note.
Pleasure doing business with you, son. Included is a list of vetted women. I’ll have my assistant set up some meetings. Tick tock.
He gave me the envelope, and I yanked it open.
Lo and behold—a new contract, flagged with all the spots for my initials, and on the last page, my father’s signature was perfectly scrawled across the line above his printed name.
The courier handed me a pen.
“I’m not signing shit until I have my attorneys look this over.” I snapped at him, knowing it wasn’t this poor man’s fault.
His shoulders slumped, and he dropped the hand holding the pen to his side. “You don’t understand, sir. I have strict orders not to leave until these papers are signed.”
Jax crossed his arms next to me. His signal that this was all bullshit.
I turned to Tom, the doorman. “Looks like you’ve got company tonight, Tom.” I slapped him on his back playfully, and we walked to the private elevator that led to my penthouse.
“Uh, sir? What would you have me tell Mr. Myles?” The courier was practically sweating bullets.
“Tell him to fuck off. And I’ll sign when I’m ready.” We entered the elevator and the doors closed with the man rubbing his forehead and Tom shrugging back at him.
CHAPTERTHREE
QUINN
I don’t knowwhat kind of superpowers Lucinda Myles was born with, but she was able to convince my mama and me that a trip to wine country was exactly what I needed.
“Oh! Now, taste this one.” Lucy passed me yet another glass of bubbly.
“Lucy, at this rate, I won’t even remember which ones I liked,” I complained but still did as she said. The poor girl was basically a sommelier, and being unable to drink wine was her personal hell that I was forced to witness.
“You’ll know, Quinn. Wine is like a good lover. You don’t forget the ones that really matter.” She smiled at me and handed me another glass.
I pushed back the thought of those same whiskey-colored eyes that used to hold me captive in her brother. But the wine was getting to me. The thought of Weston Myles and his perfect smirk, his warm hands, and his exquisite taste—it was all going to my head.
Being this close to him, via Lucy, was just all too much.
I just had to remind myself that he made every woman feel that way. I was nothing special. The fire of hate burned in my heart again. And Weston was once again shelved into the ‘you don’t deserve my thoughts’ part of my brain.
I took a sip as Lucy watched for my reaction. The taste was like summer. It warmed my throat as I swallowed, and when it hit my stomach, I felt it radiate. It was more than just the taste. It was every sensation it created in me that caused me to let out an unrestrained moan.
