Chapter Nineteen #3
“CEO is the top position, and you're not allowed to go anywhere near the board after the way you handled Martin Howard.”
“I got him to change his mind, didn’t I?” he asks, a twinkle in his eye. So sure of himself. I hate how attracted I am considering the Martin situation could have made things worse. Still, I’ve never had anyone stand up for me like that.
“He’s well connected.” His brow arches. “So am I. Different kind of connections, but they’d definitely keep life interesting. And if you ever needed to get broken out of a Colombian prison… they’d be the people you’d call.”
“Lovely…” I mock.
He just smirks and takes another bite before passing me the pint of ice cream to share. I take it and scoop another bite for myself. The intimacy of sharing one ice cream might be silly but it makes the post-sex snack break that much better.
“My father approves.” Trey snorts, taking another spoonful of ice cream. “Not sure that’s the flex you think it is, baby.”
He’s right. My father’s approval shouldn’t matter to me, and yet… I can’t shake it. We’re not even blood related, and still I feel like it’s programmed in me as a daughter to seek his good opinion with everything I do.
Is it so wrong that I want to imagine that his chest swelled with pride when he told his buddies on the golf course that his daughter Vivi's company made it on the Forbes list? Is it so bad that I want him to brag about me at the country clubs he frequents, that his daughter built an empire all on her own without Newport money? Is there something wrong with me that I just want my father to be so proud that he truly believes that I’m worthy of the Newport name for everything I did without his influence and money?
That not marrying Jameson Holiday wouldn’t be so bad.
That maybe a life like Isla’s is something I deserve too.
The one thing I am sure of…Conrad Newport loves me. And if I ever have questions about it, I can look back at the divorce papers he signed with my mother where he negotiated more money to her than he would have had to, in order to ensure that I got to keep his last name.
He’s just a creature with old habits he can’t kill. He needs control, and the older I get, the more I realize that I’m more like him than I want to admit. Isla has tried to get me to see this for years.
I wish I could stop secretly looking over my shoulder to make sure he’s watching my every accomplishment. I wish that the moment Genevieve suggested an arranged marriage between her son and me, I hadn’t immediately thought about how pleased my father would be for a Newport/Holiday union.
The more I think about it, the more I wonder what I’ve been truly doing for me, and what I’ve actually been doing to try and make him proud—show that I belong in this family. That I’m a Newport through and through.
I’m so lost in my own head that I don’t notice Trey studying me until he taps the spoon against the pint.
“You’re overthinking again,” he says, voice low but sure, like he’s already decided that whatever I’m chewing on can wait.
“I’m not overthinking, I’m just—”
“You are,” he cuts in, stepping closer until his hips press into the counter beside me. “Eyes got all far away, shoulders went tight. I’ve seen it enough to know when I’m losing you to whatever war zone’s in your head.”
“It’s not that …”
“Vivi,” he says, soft but firm, tilting my chin up with the back of his fingers. “We’re not doing that tonight. Not when I’ve got ten more things I want to do to you before sunrise.”
Heat rushes up my neck. “Ten more things?”
“Okay, I lied. Eleven more.” His smirk curves slow. “And I know you're going to enjoy every single one.” He dips down just enough for his lips to brush my ear. “In fact…I bet no one's done a couple of them to you, and a few are illegal in three countries.”
I try to scoff, but it comes out shaky. “What about the ice cream?”
“You’re right. We should make sure it goes back in the freezer.
We’ll need more sustenance for round four.
We don’t want this melting.” He takes the pint from my hands, presses the lid back on, and drops it in the pull-out freezer.
Then he hooks his arm around the backs of my thighs in one quick, fluid motion.
The world tilts as I’m thrown over his shoulder, robe falling against the backs of my legs.
“Trey!” I laugh, pounding lightly at his back.
He heads for the stairs like a man on a mission. “Cookie dough just made me hungry for dessert.” His hand slides over the curve of my ass. “And by dessert, I mean your pussy. I haven’t eaten you yet, and I’m starving.”
My laugh turns into a breathless sound I can’t name, my fingers curling into the back of his shirt as he takes the steps two at a time.
The next morning, I wake alone—but there’s a note on the bedside table.
Went for a run. Be back soon.
Padding downstairs, I stop cold at the sight of the dry-erase board.
Next to REASONS TO MARRY JAMESON is a fresh heading in Trey’s blocky handwriting.
REASONS TO STAY WITH TREY:
Best sex of your life
Lifetime supply of cookie dough ice cream
Adorable niece to spoil
Season tickets to the Hawkeyes
The front door opens.
Trey steps in, all tattoos, sweat, and muscle, pulling out his earbuds. His chest rises and falls from his run, and he grins the second his eyes hit mine.
“I see the new list,” I say.
“Figured, considering everything, I deserved representation.”
“Best sex of my life?” I scoff, purely to tease—though nothing could be truer. I’ve never had it this good. Not in chemistry. Not in connection.
“Well,” he says, voice dropping as he stalks closer, “if you’re not convinced after last night and my couch, I’ll just have to prove it again.”
Before I can react, he’s tossed me over his shoulder again, my squeal echoing off the walls.
“Where are you taking me?” I demand, laughing as he starts up the stairs.
“To the shower. Where else?”