CHAPTER SEVEN
DREW
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“You look distracted,” Zander says as we jog next to one another through Central Park.
Patrick runs a few paces behind.
“I’m running.” I shoot Zander a look. “What should I look like?”
“Normally you have things to say.”
“I’m talking.”
“And you’re less defensive.”
I slow and then stop. “The fuck, Zander? Why are you riding my ass this morning?”
Shit, now I’m proving him right.
He jogs on the spot. “Because I know when something is going on with you. Is it Colt?”
Um, what?
“Colt?” I think about how he’s having a baby with Riley and has put a ring on her finger, and can’t for the life of me work out why I would be brooding over my friend’s happiness. “Yeah, you caught me. I’ve been secretly in love with the guy and sad he won’t ream me in the ass.”
I start running, ignoring Zander’s laughter.
“Okay, so not Colt. How’s business?”
“How’s your rash?”
“What rash?” Zander asks, and now he doesn’t sound so happy with the conversation.
“The one on your cock.”
He’s quiet for a moment, then unfortunately starts talking again. “You either lost a shit ton of money, which I would have been alerted to, or it’s a woman.”
We jog around the corner, dodge a few cyclists and an old woman walking a dog on the longest lead in history, and then come back together.
“You follow all the companies I buy?” I frown.
“Most,” he replies, unfazed by my tone.
“You need a hobby.”
“So it’s a woman?”
I sigh and slow as we reach the edge of the park. “It’s not a woman. It’s a client. She—”
“Sheeeee,” he drawls.
What are we, twelve?
“She,” I state firmly. “The client. Has breached the terms of her agreement, and I need to work out how to deal with it.”
Zander wipes his forehead on his white Adidas sleeve. “Same as a guy. Wouldn’t you?”
Goddamn him.
Honestly, do not recommend being friends with a lawyer. They do not let up on the questions and it’s like they have psychic abilities.
“Yup.” I nod at Patrick, indicating he should get Jeeves to pull up while I jog on the spot. He taps his earpiece while I glance back at Zander. “Yes, but it still needs to be done carefully. I need her to keep the company ticking over. For now.”
“Careful, yes. But what’s the big deal? Send her a letter from your legal team and remind her of the terms and consequences.”
Fuck off, Zander.
I know what I need to do.
I should have said I have an STD. It would have been much simpler. I do not want to have this conversation with Zander. He doesn’t get it. Gemma Ford is...complicated.
“Yup.” I walk towards my car as it pulls up to the curb.
“So, what’s her name?” Zander glances up as his own car arrives.
Fuck he’s like a dog with a bone.
“Mary Fucking Little Lamb. Let it go, Zander. It’s just work.” I shake my head. “See you at Obsidian on Saturday. Or are you getting married this weekend?”
You know, because all my other friends are dropping like flies.
It’s a valid question.
He barks out a laugh. “No chance.”
“Thank fuck. Damon and Derek are meeting us there,” I say, referring to my stepbrother and cousin.
Dad had remarried a few years after mom died. Damon and I bonded pretty quickly given we were older, and he’s become a friend. Although he and Derek see more of one another.
“Nice. Haven’t seen them for a while,” Zander says, wiping his forehead on his arm. “See you Friday. Sort out your girlfriend.”
He smirks and runs off, his own security staying several feet behind as I clench my teeth.
Next time I’m telling him I have crabs.
I climb into the back of my car and chug down some water as we drive through Manhattan toward my office. My mind immediately returns to Gemma.
I can’t get her off my mind.
It’s not just because she’s been absent.
Zander is right. If Gemma were a hairy-looking guy, I would’ve taken immediate legal action.
Instead, my dick has stolen some of my brain cells, and I’ve given her more leeway than almost anyone in my life has had. Except for my father, Derek, Damon, and my close friends.
I could argue it’s because I want to tie her to the posts of my bed (at the end of this contract) and see her silky dark hair spread out on my pillows while I have my way with her petite, sexy body.
While exploring her wet and needy pussy.
As I fuck her so deep and hard she never forgets my name.
I get the feeling Gemma Ford was a loving and dutiful wife, which is a shame because initial indications hint that her dead husband was a fucking asshole.
Whether he screwed around or just screwed her over financially is yet to be seen. But from what I’ve seen so far, it’s not good.
No wonder Gemma couldn’t salvage Open Leaf, but I doubt with her small amount of business experience she understands why.
She has one more day.