Chapter 9
Miles
“ B ro, I fucked up.”
“Sounds like it.”
The BET-level of drama at this retreat deserves an Emmy. T had a front-row seat to Justice on a date with a guy last night. I almost caught a fist for laughing at the irony that Fifty Shades of Grey was the pick for the movie event. Jay is many things, but a clit flick enthusiast? Nah.
She spent the whole movie sharing snacks with some model-looking prick, while Terrence sat rows behind her, seconds from shitting himself. That was until he started tonguing down Madison, who happened to be there too. His lip-sucking caught Jay’s attention, and off Sonic the Good Girl went to get away.
I wasn’t a hundred percent serious when I said he should fuck around with Madison to get over the ex who’s ready to serve him divorce papers. The only person he did fuck was himself last night. I’m not about to rub salt in his wound, but it’s too early for this “Cry for You” Jodeci performance.
Terrence stops pacing. He runs a hand through his hair with a sigh like he’s about to hyperventilate. “Go sit somewhere,” I say. I love him, but I’m not about to do mouth-to-mouth if he passes out.
I spent the last fifteen minutes trying to calm him down and assure him there’s still time to win Justice back. Love makes you do crazy shit—like hack into the hotel’s computer system to figure out who the hell she was with last night.
“Did you find anything else?” Here he goes pacing again.
“Give me a minute to work my magic, man.” Damn. I don’t need him breathing down my neck every two seconds.
Somehow, T got the guy’s name. Preston is both a prick and a ghost. He’s not showing up in any records. “No registration. No room number under his name,” I say. “There’s not even a restaurant bill for him.”
I spend another twenty minutes running through the resort’s database. Terrence finally stays in one place to lean over my shoulder for a closer look at one of my four screens. “Bro, how in the hell do you know how to do all of this?” His face scrunches like he didn’t barge in here and beg me to commit a felony.
I shrug. “The less you know, the better.”
On paper, I’m a data security specialist who helps groups protect their data assets and mitigate risks. Hacking isn’t on my résumé, but it comes into play for the right person and the right price. Vulnerability assessment, incident response, and encryptions are some of the services I provide. It sounds like a mouthful of What the fuck? so I usually tell people I work with computers and leave it at that. My clientele is by referral only, and I don’t advertise.
Terrence has been asking nothing but questions ever since he peeped my setup. Four monitors, two laptops, and a couple of towers might seem like a lot to him, but this is an ordinary day for me. A special courier transports my tech when I need them to.
Everything else is need-to-know, and right now, he needs to sit his ass down somewhere.
A video pops up of Justice storming out of the movie with Preston on her heels. They walk through the ballroom to the balcony outside, where Justice lunges at him lips first.
“No shit.” Guess Tia and Tamera’s missing sister ain’t afraid to get down in public.
“Turn it off now!” Terrence snaps, seconds from ripping out his hair.
I cut it off and stand to pat him on the shoulder, unsure what to say. Didn’t think she had it in her will have him ready to box my mouth.
I’m shit at pep talks, but I think back to one of those stupid love movies Justice forced me to watch last time I came to Austin to visit. “Everything will work itself out. You two have been through hell and back. You’ll get your wife, bro.”
“I’m not so sure anymore. I think I pushed her too far.”
“Oh, please. It’s clear as day you two still love each other. You burned her with Madison, and she burned you with that guy. You’re even. So go heal together, or whatever the hell it is you married people do. I’ve never seen you give up when you want something, and we both know Justice is worth the fight.”
She’ll likely cause many of the fights, but that’s semantics.
It takes a few more searches to pull up Preston’s personal information, which has us saying, “No shit” in perfect harmony. Terrence better thank Jesus that Justice is so low-maintenance. His wallet would have a stroke trying to compete with a damn billionaire.
Preston Donnelley is the heir to a global hotel and resort brand. He spends most of his time in London, which doesn’t explain why he’s here in Colorado. The Ravine is one of hundreds of properties he owns. Why here?
It’s one in the afternoon by the time Terrence is ready to leave. Two hours of digging finally revealed the mystery of who he’s up against—not that he needs to worry about competition. He’ll get it right with Jay one day.
We dap each other up one last time before he heads to the door.
“Thanks again for your help.” Terrence stuffs his hands in his jeans. “You and Em got my head right.”
I tense at her name. “You saw her today?”
“Yeah.” A crease forms between his brows. “I texted her this morning, to run a few things by her about Jay.”
“How’s she doing?”
“Breathing and walking the earth, so fine I guess. Since when do you care about Emma?”
Since I played with her pussy and she snuck out my room.
Cut that shit out.
I clear my throat with a dismissive shrug. “I don’t.” The words rush out with too much force. “Surprised Thelma and Louise haven’t been kicked out for being a nuisance.”
He huffs a laugh and reaches for the door. “That’s my wife and her friend you’re talking about. Em said they signed up for salsa lessons at three. I’mma head over there later.” He frowns. “You sure you’re cool? You can come with me.”
“Nah, I’m good. Get your wife back.”
Terrence dips, and I go back to a data-masking project I worked on last night. I couldn’t concentrate, thanks to a certain mahogany-haired knockout with a pussy that would win first place in an Ironman competition the way she took her toys. I don’t pine over women, but Emma has me in a weird headspace.
It’s a miracle no one called the front desk about her hollering the commands she hurled at me.
Harder, Miles!
Faster.
Deeper.
My hands cramped like I was playing Call of Duty with T. There’s no cheat code for Emma, but I was determined to unlock every moan.
She fell asleep in the adjoining room I intended to use for guests. No one has been in it but her, but I like my personal space without looking like a dick after giving it. I don’t sleep with anyone. People get too comfortable. They fuck around and catch feelings.
Neither of us anticipated a sleepover, but I covered her with a comforter the moment her long lashes fell closed. She let out a relaxed sigh at the warmth over the lingerie I wanted to pull apart with my teeth. The memory of our time at Ravenous had my ass back in the other room with a head shake and a hard dick.
There are certain lines I don’t cross, and fucking around for real with Emma is up there with messing with wives. She hits too close to home and will force you to break every rule. That makes her dangerous.
I got my own nut in the shower, jerking my damn dick like a Shake Weight while thinking about her. Then I threw on a pair of sweats and sat in front of my computer to work. Every so often, I’d hear soft snores pulling me back to her room.
Emma slept face-down under a halo of curls, her arms outstretched and a smile edging the corners of her bow-shaped lips. Justice would kick my ass if she found out Emma spent the night in my hotel room.
She was gone when I woke up the next morning, and there hasn’t been a sighting or a run-in since. Women who don’t spend the night don’t overstay their welcome, but how long did she wait to sprint her ass out my room like there was a plague in the sheets with her?
There’s a knock at the door before a gold envelope appears underneath. What is this?