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“The lawyers said fuck all.” Blake tossed back his whisky and walked across the room to the bar in Daniel’s office.
“Woah, Tiger,” Daniel said from behind his desk, leaning back into the fine leather of his executive chair. “Don’t get shit-faced.”
“It’s only my third.”
“Fourth,” Daniel lifted his brows. “Maybe fifth even? I’ve lost count.”
Oh.
That wasn’t good. Plus lunch equaled one hundred and five. He snickered at his joke as he poured.
“Hey Blake. Wait, are you drunk?” Hunter asked as he walked in.
“Drunk—ish,” Blake said.
Shit, he might have slurred.
“See, this is why marriage is bullshit,” Hunter exclaimed, waving out his hand.
“What makes you automatically think it’s about relationships?” Daniel frowned. “He just met with Randall Scott. It might have been a bad meeting.”
It had been.
But that wasn’t why he was drunk. He just couldn’t tell them that.
Right now, Cain and Bella were having cocktails in some hot Manhattan bar and falling back in love.
Fuck them.
She was no doubt asking Cain how best to tell him she was moving to New York and out of his condo. Out of his bed. Out of his life.
No wedding.
No shares...fuck the shares.
Fuck Cain.
Fuck Randall Scott.
And fuck...fuck losing her.
Blake sighed.
He knew what Bella wanted. What all women wanted.
To be loved.
He saw it in her eyes every night he sunk deep inside her. She might be like sexy putty in his hands when she was aroused, but there was no mistaking her feelings when all her barriers were down.
What had he done?
Pretended that his feelings for her weren’t changing. But they had. Blake thought they had two years to work it out.
Thanks Cain, you dick.
In truth he had no one to blame but himself.
He’d never felt this way about a woman before, and it was hard to wrap his head around. They were in a fake relationship having mind blowing sex. He partly thought it was just a side effect.
