Chapter 7
NEO
“So, what’s for dinner tonight, Jules? Hear you were stolen from Matthias to be here,” I say, drifting over to the oven so I can see the food he’s making. “Mm. Smells fucking delicious.”
“Oui. It is delicious,” he says as Harley appears from the other room, sipping on some wine. He’s wearing slacks and a button-up shirt that shows more of his chest than not.
They make eye contact, and Jules flushes before clearing his throat and addressing my question. “It’s duck breast with a light pan sauce paired with pommes puree and wilted spinach.”
It’s a dish I’ve never had before, but that’s most dishes, to be fair. My diet pre-moving in here mostly consisted of ramen. I’m excited to have my horizons expanded some more. “Sounds fancy.”
“I am the best chef in town.”
“Hell yeah, you are,” Harley says, and Jules grins at him, holding out a spoon for Harley to taste it.
I watch as Harley’s lashes flutter, and I sigh with jealousy. I’m not sure if I should stay for this weird mating ritual they have going on, but I can’t seem to look away.
I have no idea why they aren’t together. Everything seems so…easy for them.
Unlike with Wylder and me.
To be honest, I was half expecting to walk into the office and find it empty after what happened this morning. Wylder surprised me again though, sitting in his usual spot and ignoring my existence.
Like he hadn’t watched me jack off just thirty minutes before. Yes, I was late, but that was his fault. After the way he stood watching me, how he grabbed my calf and commanded me to come…
I had to get off in the shower all over again. Which made me late.
His fault. Not mine.
Harley’s lips twitch as he checks out what’s inside the oven. “You made the tarte for dessert?”
Jules waves a spoon in the air mischievously. “Of course I did. Only for the finest of guests. It was such a hit last time.”
Harley grins at Jules. “It sure was a hit.”
The memory clicks. “Ooh, is this the same kind of pie that Ansel introduced to Candace’s face last time?”
“It is not a pie,” Jules comments loudly, which I take to mean yes. I bite back a giggle.
I can see why Harley likes this chef.
Harley links his arm through mine. Jules’s gaze falls to where our bodies connect. His eyes narrow before he quickly turns to the food sizzling on the stove. “You need to go to the dining room. Everyone awaits, and the appetizer is almost ready.”
Harley gives him a salute and then pulls me down the hallway toward the dining room. “Well, at least we know the food will be good, even if the company won’t be.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
His smile slips. “Didn’t Wylder tell you?”
My stomach tightens. Wylder barely looked at me all day, let alone said anything. “No.”
“Candace is joining us.” Harley gives a long-suffering sigh. “If she behaves like she did last time, I may shoot her.”
I shiver. Knives I can handle, but any mention of guns makes me squirm. “I’d rather not get blood on my shirt.”
Harley laughs merrily. “Don’t worry, I’ll behave. Besides, Wylder will be upset if I kill his girlfriend, and I don’t want to be given the shit jobs for the next decade.”
Girlfriend. Yeah, right. I’d bet every cent in my meager bank account that their relationship is fake. I’m learning more about Wylder every day, and everything I’ve learned points to him being a very loyal man.
And you know what a loyal man wouldn’t do? He wouldn’t watch his assistant jerk off naked.
“At least things will be interesting tonight,” Harley continues. “They were the last time she ate dinner with us. Wylder promised she wouldn’t be present at any more of these, but for some reason, he’s changed his mind.”
I accept the proffered glass from Harley’s hand and take a sip, making a face when I realize there are no bubbles in the wine. I prefer my wine fizzing on the way down. “Was this the incident where she was rude to Ansel? And also, how expensive is this wine?”
“Very expensive, and yes, she was rude to practically everyone, especially Jules. That’s when Ansel shoved the pie—I mean, tarte—into Candace’s face.
” I snort, and Harley grins at me. “Jules was very upset at being insulted, but was happy with the end result. Said it was the perfect balance of texture and humiliation.”
That makes me grin happily. I would have loved to have seen that. “And I assume that’s why he’s making it again tonight?”
“Yes, he’s…” He groans and grabs the wineglass back, taking a long sip. “God, he’s something else.”
I nudge him, and he crinkles his brows at me. “You got it bad, Harley.”
“No. No, I don’t. We’re just friends.”
“I don’t think that’s a thing. Not with you two, anyway.”
He grunts as we enter the dining room, my eyes taking in the people seated around the large table. And, of course, my eyes fall to him first.
Wylder sits at the head of the table, impeccably dressed, not a hair out of place. I want to thread my fingers through those strands and mess him up. Just a little.
I like watching him slowly fall apart.
Watching that thread strain and tighten right before snapping.
My gaze swivels to the chair on his right, which is empty. I assume this has been left for Candace, who isn’t here yet. That rankles. At least be on time for a dinner invitation. But I bet she doesn’t believe in that. I bet she believes the world stops and waits for her.
I don’t know her well—have only met her a few times—but I’m pretty sure I’m right about that.
I glance over and see Wyatt and Matthias to Wylder’s left, and directly across from them sit Ansel and Cade.
Dalton and Jackson are seated next to each other, and Samson is slouched back at the opposite end of the table.
There are three chairs available, and Harley quickly takes the one next to Jackson, leaving me to pick between the one next to Wylder and the one next to Samson.
I should behave. I really should.
But fuck, that’s so boring. I don’t want to, and I know deep down Wylder likes to play. It brings something out in him, something he keeps hidden.
It’s why he couldn’t leave my room this morning.
It’s why I bet it won’t be the last time he watches me come.
“Snooze you fucking lose,” I murmur as I stalk forward and flop down into the chair right next to Wylder. He doesn’t look at me, but that doesn’t stop me from talking. “Tell me you have champagne or prosecco? I’ll take what I can get. I’m not that picky.”
“I don’t believe that,” he says, and I smirk at him, watching as he takes a bottle from beside him and pours some fizzy liquid into my glass. The fact that he had this ready for me is making something inside of me flutter.
It’s a dangerous feeling.
I like fucking with him, but I can’t like him too. Can’t like the way a wrinkle appears above his nose when he’s concentrating. How carefully he reads each request to The Firm. How he obediently eats whatever food I shove toward him.
And I definitely can’t like the way he commanded me earlier. Even if it did make me come harder than I ever have before.
Turns out I have a kink for bossy, uptight fuckers. Who knew?
Well, everyone around this table, judging by the betting pool they have going. Joke’s on them. Wylder won’t ever go there with me. Not because of his sexuality or his girlfriend.
Because of me. I’m not good enough for him, and I know it. He’s Wylder Buckingham, heir to the Buckingham fortune and estates. Head of the fabled Firm. He wields more power than anyone else in a five-hundred-mile radius.
Meanwhile, I’m a two-bit hacker with a state-given surname and no family or home to call my own. It’s no wonder Wylder doesn’t want to play with me.
Doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying to get him to though. He really does need to loosen up, to let go.
Even if it’s just for a night.
I take the glass and hold it up toward him. “Thanks, Wylder baby.”
His cheeks flush, and I grin a little wider, sipping at the wine, feeling the bubbles work their way down my throat. Perfection.
Even tastes like it, too. Don’t want to know how much this bottle cost. Might make me want another.
Wylder’s eyes flick from my lips to my throat, and I see his lids droop slightly.
But then his focus is pulled toward the entrance of the dining room as Candace waltzes in.
Aside from a quick glance or glare, everyone ignores her. Everyone except Wylder, who doesn’t look away from her approach. She’s gliding toward us like she’s a fucking ballerina or something. I could never be that elegant.
Another reason why I’m not good enough for Wylder.
“Hello, Candace,” Wylder says stiffly, standing to greet her. I feel a tug of jealousy as he nears her, but it evaporates when I observe their greeting.
To call it an air kiss would be generous. If Wylder’s lips were any farther from her skin, he’d be in a different room.
He returns to his seat abruptly, leaving her standing. Her eyes narrow before she pastes on a fake-as-fuck smile. “So glad to be here again.”
I’m not the only one who snorts. Pretty much everyone at the table does. We all know bullshit when we smell it, and Candace reeks of it.
My eyes sweep over her outfit. She’s far too overdressed for this dinner. She looks like she’s on her way to a gala.
I glance down at my torn jeans and the t-shirt that’s too big, hanging off my shoulder, and I wonder if I should have changed. But then I take in everyone else and realize that Candace just sucks.
She likes the attention.
She likes to stand out.
She thinks it makes her better than everyone else.
I hate her on principle and for how she treated Ansel. It only has to do with Wylder just a little bit.
I curl my feet around the legs of the chair as she approaches. If she wanted this seat, she should have shown up on time.
Candace stops next to Wylder, and her eyes flick from him to me. When I make no move to stand and offer the seat to her, she purses her lips. “I believe you’re in my chair.”
I take another sip of my wine and shrug. “Nope. This is mine. Sorry.”