10. Wilder
Wilder
When Oz and I slide into the booth across from Saint Ashbourne, the elegant vampire flares his nostrils and looks between us. Crimson eyes fall to the matching sweaters, and he smirks. Before he can say anything, Willa drops into the chair next to him with a bright smile, offering her hand.
“Saint Ashbourne? I’m Willa Lane, Wilder’s lawyer.”
He looks from her to me and back, taking her hand and shaking it heartily. “Lane, hmm? Are you older or younger?”
Willa laughs but doesn’t answer. He’s underestimating her already, and I love that for me. Willa’s petite for a troll woman, although for a human, she’d be on the tall side. And fit, incredibly fit. Everything about her gets her underestimated.
The minotaur waiter swings by and grabs our drinks, and I remember to lay my arm along the bench behind Oz, my fingers nearly touching his shoulder. I don’t want to touch him in a way that makes him uncomfortable, but at some point, we’ll probably have to do some public PDA.
“Let’s get started, shall we?” Willa slips a sheet of paper across the table to Saint.
“I’ve reviewed the final sale documents, as well as all of the documentation available at the Auction House.
” She winks at him. “Can you believe they keep records in that place? Anyhow, it actually goes back to the creation of this haven, and there are some, well, let’s say there are discrepancies in the data, all in the Sandovals’ favor, of course. ”
Saint’s nostrils flare, and he takes the page, scanning it quickly. When his eyes darken, I know we’ve got him. He looks back at her, setting the sheet down. “I wasn’t aware of any of this, but I’ll look into it.”
She smiles as the minotaur returns with our drinks.
Taking a sip, she rolls her eyes to the back of her head.
“My gods, the wraith make a killer Manhattan. Rivals the best in Laporte, I swear, and that’s really saying something.
Wild, remember that time we got that amazing Manhattan in the fourteenth arondi—”
“Let’s move on,” Saint says smoothly, interrupting her.
This male might as well be signing his death warrant.
She flashes him a simpering smile. “Your land survey’s not a little wrong, Mister Ashbourne; it’s entirely wrong.
Sixty-two missing acres to the west, seventy-eight to the north, fifteen to the south and one hundred sixty-five to the east. That’s—well, shit—a lot of missing acreage you seem to want Wilder to pay for. ”
He scoffs, dark brows lifting as she sips the drink with a soft smile.
“We need a third-party surveyor,” she says simply.
“I’m sure one can be found in town, or we can bring someone from another haven if you prefer, but a surveyor should be able to clear up ninety-nine percent of those issues.
Some of it could just be the changing landscape between three hundred years ago and now, but I guess we’ll see. ”
Saint looks between us, brows furrowed, mouth slightly open like words are on the tip of his tongue, but he just can’t find them. To my right, Oz is quiet, examining the menu as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.
After a quiet, tense moment, Saint looks at me. “Happy for us to use a local surveyor. I’ll look for some—”
“There’s a list of local folks on the back of that sheet,” Willa quips. “I don’t care who we use; pick one you like.”
Saint narrows his eyes at her, then faces me again. “It’s a huge parcel. Any surveyor worth their salt will want to ride the land. I’ll insist on going with, of course.”
“As will Wild,” Willa says. “Which suits us just fine. We grew up on a ranch.”
“Pack hand warmers,” I recommend with a smile. “That parcel’s big enough, it’ll take two full days, by my estimate.”
Saint smirks at Oz. “Will you be riding with us, Ozifer?”
Oh gods. Oz on a horse? That’s hard to imagine.
But my fake mate chuckles and snuggles against me, wrapping his right arm around my core. And just like that, the public displays of affection begin. “If Wilder wants me to, then I will, of course.”
I wonder if Saint’s aware of the way his eyes narrow further at Oz’s words. I’d bet a million dollars he’s feeling a complicated set of emotions seeing Oz happily ensconced against another male’s big chest. Something about that feels like payback, given the way Oz spoke about him earlier.
Turning on the bench, I drag my knuckles along Oz’s sharp jawline. “I want you to come,” I grumble. “I can promise you a good time, if you can get a few days off from work?”
Oz’s dark lashes flutter as he stares up at me like we’re sharing a secret.
“I’d love to,” he whispers, and he nails it. If I didn’t know he was faking, I’d totally believe his genuine enthusiasm. He looks truly excited to go riding for two days. I wonder if he realizes that means camping too…
That’s a conversation for later.
We definitely didn’t cover his sleeping preferences when Willa arrived, aside from him being fine when she bogarted half the bed.
“That’s settled then,” I say softly, returning my arm to the back of the velvet bench seat. I stare at him a few moments longer, hoping I look as in love as I need to be. Oz’s amethyst eyes are nearly depthless, tiny lilac and black specks flashing out from the center.
Beautiful.
The rest of dinner goes by without incident. Saint makes small talk, and Willa asks him some fairly innocuous questions. I can’t wait to get her download on him after dinner.
As soon as I stop staring at Oz.