Chapter 30
Thirty
Jace
“Tell me you didn’t fuck things up last night.”
I close out of my windows, shut down my computer, and lean back in my chair. “You’ve been here two minutes,” I mutter. “And you’re already giving me shit?”
“You told me you think you’ve met the woman you want to make yours?—”
I ignore the blip of worry in my stomach, the one that reminds me that I want her, that I like her a fucking lot, but that I still might do something to fuck it up. That I might hurt her and not be able to fix it and?—
“And you’re sitting in your office, working late, twiddling your thumbs instead of going to her.”
“I had to practically bully her into a first date…and then barge into her apartment to make sure she actually came.”
Brooks grins.
I glare at him. “She was sweet as pie to Dean, ate with an abandon that made me want to get her right back into the bedroom, and actually opened up to me a little,” I say, or maybe remind him since I already gave the nosy fuck the full report last night after I got home from Marie’s place. “I made progress, man. I need to move deliberately now, so I don’t fuck it up.”
“Or you need to actually move instead of letting her erect walls around herself again that you need to bust through.”
I scowl.
Because he’s not wrong.
And because when Brooks isn’t wrong, he’s a smug pain in the ass.
“When are you going back to France?” I ask. It’s my most common rejoinder with him of late.
He grins, not missing the surly note in my voice. “Nah, man. I think I’m going to move here permanently. I actually put in an offer on a house near Oak Ridge.”
Christ.
“The office building or the winery?” I ask, head pounding at the thought of him living on the next floor down or somewhere equally as close.
“The winery.”
Thank fuck for small miracles.
But still too near to stick his nosy ass into my business.
“Maybe you’ll find a sexy neighbor to keep you busy,” I say, going for distraction.
“Nah,” he mutters. “A woman isn’t on the docket for me.”
“A man then?”
His head jerks and he grins at me. “You’re a child.”
“A child,” I say, reaching for my phone and shoving it into my pocket, “who’s going to get the fuck out of here and take your advice about going and getting my woman.”
He grins, stands up. “Damn right you are. And keep me on speed dial if you need any further advice.”
“You mean if you want to demand any further details?”
“Both things can be right.”
I snort, push to my feet, but before I can snipe back, there’s a knock. I look…just in time to see the door push inward.
A flash of curls.
A gorgeous woman.
Who’s scowling at me.
“Your security sucks,” she snaps, pushing fully inside. “Do you know that I was just able to park, access this building—which has a directory listing your fucking floor!—and take the elevator, walk over, and enter your office without a single person stopping me.” She tosses up her hands. “You’re the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar business with the personal net worth that’s more than most people can even dream about amassing in their lifetimes! Do you even care about your safety? What if some psycho got a wild hair and decided to come up here and?—”
Brooks chuckles.
And I have to force down my own amusement when I watch her face change as she realizes we’re not alone.
Pink cheeks. Horror traipsing through her expression. She closes her eyes for a heartbeat. Two. Then her chin comes up and her shoulders straighten.
She extends her hand toward Brooks. “Marie.”
“Brooks,” he says, lips twitching, tone amused. “Nice to meet you.”
“I—uh—nice to meet you too.”
Silence falls, and I glare at my friend. Mostly because he’s still holding Marie’s hand.
And she doesn’t seem to be bothered by the contact.
“How do you know Jace?” he asks, even though he knows perfectly well, the bastard.
“We, um…” Bright pink cheeks and she finally tugs her hand back, eyes darting to the door, clearly looking for the exit. “Obviously, you guys are in the middle of something. I should”—she hitches a thumb over her shoulder—“go.”
My body jerks forward, every cell screaming absolutely fucking not.
But Brooks beats me to doing or saying anything stupid. “I was actually just heading out.” He touches her shoulder, hovering close enough that I want to murder him for intruding on my woman’s space. Then again when he says, “It was nice to put a name to a face. He talks about you all the time.”
Wide green eyes hit mine.
“And,” the fucker goes on, “don’t stop giving him crap about the security. I’ve mentioned that shit to him at least a half dozen times and there’s no change.”
Murder. Times three.
I swear to fuck.
But I don’t get the chance to throttle my best friend because he’s slipping out of the room without a backward glance at me.
Leaving me with a now un embarrassed Marie.
In fact, she’s so far from embarrassed it’s not funny.
Because she’s pissed.
At me.
As soon as the door closes, she marches over to me, dropping her bag in the chair Brooks recently vacated, stomping around the corner of my desk, not stopping until her toes brush mine. She jabs a finger into my chest.
“Ow,” I mutter, capturing her hand in mine and then rubbing the aching spot with my other.
Her eyes spark with fury. “You’re telling me that someone has brought the lackluster security to your attention and you haven’t done anything about it?”
I open my mouth to explain.
But I don’t get the chance.
“You’re a well-known, important man who’s doing important work. Do you truly not give a fuck about your safety?” A shake of her head as she tries to tug her hand free, but she’s close and smells like flowers and her body is pressed to mine and…she’s here. So I’m not fucking letting her go. Something she seems to realize a moment later when she continues snapping, “And if you’re so arrogant to not care about being safe, do you not understand that it can impact the safety of your employees? You’re doing important work here and they need to feel secure to make the most of it.”
“I know.”
“You have an unmanned security shed at the entrance of your campus, an unmanned security desk downstairs, unlocked doors, elevators than can be accessed by anyone?—”
“I know, cookie.”
“It’s so dangerous!” she exclaims. “I don’t know why you can’t?—”
I cup her jaw. “I know , cookie,” I repeat, finally managing to cut off the flow of words. “Security’s been a problem ever since we contracted with a new company. I’m working on it, especially because there’s absolutely no reason the doors downstairs should have been unlocked. We have a badge system for a reason and pay for twenty-four hour guards, but Duarte?—”
She jerks in my hold, so violently that I lose my grip on her.
And then she’s turning away from me.
Stepping back.
And running away.