Chapter 27

Wes

I adjust my slightly off centered black belt on a mumbled, “I look fucking ridiculous.”

“You look like your father.”

Clark’s unpredicted proclamation pulls my stare up to his.

“With less facial hair.”

Resisting the urge to smirk is difficult. “You really think so?”

“That you have less facial hair? Absolutely.” He casually steps into the closet space. “At your age, Will had to shave every two days or so to avoid hearing Arabella fuss about him giving her rugburn…in various places.”

Shock sends my jaw straight to my dress shoe covered feet.

“Yes, your mother was…not always the embodiment of pure ladylikeness as the media often portrayed her to be.” His grin shifts to one that’s equally warm and wistful. “She had quite a mouth on her. Always blamed her father who she swore was a sailor in his prime.”

“Pépé wasn’t actually a sailor?”

“He most certainly sailed.” Additional amusement flashes itself. “What and where and who were the details that always seemed to change.”

Small chortles helplessly seep free on a small shake of the head.

Perhaps my mother and father’s families really did cross paths during the Prohibition era.

“We were close too,” Clark lovingly reminds. “She trusted me with her secrets much like Will did.”

The uncanny resemblances of my circumstances now with that of my parents is what leads me to whispering, “You miss them too.”

“Every day.” He busies himself with fixing my lapel. “However, being around you eases the pain.”

“That’s why you never wanted to become Head of the Household.”

“I was hired to care for this family .” Our eyes momentarily meet. “Not the estate.”

And that’s all he’s ever done.

That’s all I can ever remember him doing.

Laughing with my mother.

Drinking with my father.

Bandaging my bruises.

Clark has always been an extra parent.

Not a replacement.

Maybe that’s the guilt that got the better of me when sentencing Penny to being exiled rather than eliminated. I have had her father actively in my life for my entire existence, yet the most time she had with him was when she was here. His dedication to us led to separation from her and that very well may be the reason she acted in desperation on what she believed was his behalf.

Why she thought getting rid of Lauren would’ve helped her success.

Why her obsession with me – the child her father was always around for – became what it did.

Perhaps she convinced herself she was following in his footsteps when it came to my care.

Or perhaps she was nothing more than a lost daughter who believed she was out of options.

Whatever the case may be, that’s between her and the mental health facility she is secured at in Switzerland.

Once he’s finished fixing the area, he moves onto straightening a button. “Your second in command is waiting for you in the entryway.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course, sir.”

I place a gentle palm on his hand at the same time I correct. “ Wes. ”

Clark adoringly smiles and nods. “ Wes. ”

Downstairs near the front door, J.T. appears to be mumbling to himself as he paces the floor. “No, Pham. I am not dating Lane Hollander. She is simply a real estate agent I introduced to an acquaintance who is looking to purchase property in that area. Nothing more.” His head falls back in obvious irritation. “ No. I am not hiding something.” He abruptly stops and expels an annoyed huff. “I understand the concern. It’s… noted. ” One click of the button ends their convo yet starts ours. “You’re awfully dressed up for a conference call.”

“I won’t be on the call.” A nervous adjustment to my black sleeves is executed. “I’ll be there in person.”

The quirked brow I’m shot isn’t a surprise. “ Where in person?”

“The meeting.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“I mean why ?” He shoves both of his hands into his navy-blue suit pants pockets. “Why are you attending this meeting? It’s just another discussion regarding the Morgan Brand acquisition. It’s nothing new or unique, so to speak.” J.T. does his best to hide what I would guess is outrage. “Do you suddenly not trust me to do my job? To speak on your behalf? On behalf of this company?”

“Of course, I do.”

“Then why are you attending in person?”

“Why don’t you want me there in person?”

“I don’t want you there because we both know you don’t want to be there, Wes.” His gaze bores deeply into mine. “You being there helps you avoid being somewhere else. And that somewhere else…” the lifting of his eyebrows causes me to shift my weight in discomfort, “is ten times more important than another bullshit boardroom meeting.”

I know I pay him to be right.

But I don’t need him to be right at this moment.

I need him to be wrong.

I need him to be full of shit, so that when I step foot outside the estate for all the world to see, I know it’s being done for the right reasons.

For my company’s best interest.

“You should be back in the office,” J.T. swiftly states with an innocent shrug. “You belong there. They want you there. We want you there. You’re the only one who thinks your face has no place amongst the shareholders.”

I sheepishly nod at the same time I quietly concur, “I know.”

“And I know that that place you’re avoiding is the most important place you could ever go.” One hand plops itself on my black dress shirt covered shoulder. “Schedule that meeting, Mr. Wayne.” An arrogant, playful grin transitions into place. “I’ve got all the others handled.”

His smile inspires my own to make an appearance as well as me to step away to make other arrangements.

Initially, giving Brynley space seemed like the correct decision.

She was owed that.

The right to be pissed.

The right to be furious.

The right to hate me for the pain I caused.

However, instead of feeling like those emotions are subsiding, there’s this gut sensation that’s impossible to ignore.

It’s the same one I get when there’s something about a deal I can’t trust.

Or an employee I don’t want hired.

It’s an instinct.

And my instinct is telling me that any more time apart will result in our comic arc being over before it was ever really given a chance to truly start.

Early afternoon somehow arrives both too quickly and not quickly enough. Time seems to pass slowly and speedily between word searches and rehearsed speeches and encouraging smiles from Lauren and Clark alike.

By the time I’m standing outside The Bower and Powell Aquatic Institute, reaching for the doorhandle, doing my best to steady my shaking grip, I can hardly breathe.

Everything feels wrong.

Off.

The sun beating down on the back of my head is too hot.

The downtown traffic we’re right on the outskirts of is too loud.

People passing by are too close.

They’re too far.

Too much.

Whatever air is in my lungs begins to vacate without vacillation leaving me in a state of hyperventilation.

I can’t do this.

I can’t walk in there.

I can’t be this in public.

This exposed.

I just can’t.

I just fucking can’t.

Turning on my heels puts me face to face with Hurst who simply folds his arms firmly across his chest and narrows his vision.

Right.

His job is not only to physically to protect me but to insure I walk my ass inside.

That I fight for what matters more to me than my fear.

I uncomfortably nod, turn back around, and nervously enter The Bower and Powell Aquatic institute. Upon stepping foot inside, a gush of relief washes over me as memories of wandering around after hours with Bryn grab me by the hand.

Lead me to the ticket desk and give me the voice to announce I’m here for my private tour.

Despite the looks of disgust from passing patrons, along with the curious ones from children, I keep my chin up.

Composure intact.

I ignore the pounding against my ribcage until it stops courtesy of the yellow polo wearing beauty strolling over to us.

Her eyes meet mine, filling with shock and awe and irritation, yet her frame continues to stay enroute, only stopping when it’s reached its destination.

“This is your private tour guide for the afternoon, Brynley,” introduces the ticket woman whose name I can’t recall. “Brynley, please meet The Institute’s very special guest of honor, Mr. Wilcox.”

It clearly takes every fiber of her being to force on a phony smile and extend her palm politely in my direction. “Mr. Wilcox.”

I squeeze her grip warmly and let my touch linger in hers as I insist, “ Wes. ”

She practically rips her hand away prior to glancing at the member of my security that’s accompanying me. “Lurch.”

“Miss Winters.”

The flicker of a smile precedes her ushering us the direction she would like us to take. “If you two will follow me, we’ll begin the tour to the right.”

“Lead the way.”

And she does.

Although, damn near running out of my sight is not quite what I had in mind.

Our arrival at the first exhibit is in silence.

As is our second.

And third.

And fourth.

However, rather than allow us to continue the pattern in the next room, Hurst forces her to speak by doing what it is I should be.

Asking questions.

“What are these things?” He thumps his index finger on the glass of an outer wall tank. “Why are they see through?”

“Those are Alabama cave shrimp,” Bryn excitedly answers and crosses over to him. “They’re only found in caves in that state and are on the endangered species list, which is one of the big deals of the institute.” Seeing her gaze glow has me gravitating closer. “We primarily focus our efforts on rehabilitation, rereleasing, and reproduction with minor focuses on conservation and behavioral observation.”

“This job suits you,” I sweetly compliment, encouraging Hurst to step away. “Much better than your last.”

“Why? Because you can’t see my tits?” She sasses on a touch of her top button. “I can change that if it would be more to your liking, Mr. Wilcox.”

“I would like for my girlfriend-”

“ Ex. ”

“-to have an actual conversation with me.”

“You mean like you had with her when you barged into her mom’s recovery room, called her a whore, and kicked her out as such?”

“ I made a mistake. ”

“In the ocean, mistakes can cost a creature its life.” The hurt in her expression is irrefutable. “Why should on land be any different?”

“Bryn-”

“Shall we proceed?” She lifelessly ushers a hand in the direction we should be taking. “There are plenty more exhibits to see.”

A silent nod in surrender is delivered alongside my lips pressing shut.

What did I expect?

When has she ever made anything that easy?

Passing by more creatures is accompanied by random rehearsed facts that are fascinating enough yet clearly don’t drive anything inside of her. Knowing what does is what leads to me insisting she take me to the private tank room where we shared our first photo.

To my surprise, the space is empty of others, a sight that has Hurst cleverly pretending to receive a phone call to grant us a moment of real privacy.

“Target feeding is what helps the creatures co-exist in this environment,” Bryn professionally explains, back to me. “This view is deeper than the others to give you a better view of those that linger there especially during the day, like Nana, the nurse shark.” She gently points to the area where the creature is lingering. “That’s her favorite spot.”

“And something tells me that despite how pissed at me you are, being in here is one of yours.”

“I like the view.”

“I do too.”

Her blue gaze glances over just in time to see me waggle my brow, an action that receives a small shake of the head and bite of her bottom lip.

“Nurse sharks aren’t aggressive, correct?”

“Not typically unless provoked.”

“ Like you. ”

At that, her body angles itself in my direction. “You didn’t provoke me, Mr. Wilcox. You attacked me.”

“I did.” Shoving down the lump in my throat precedes my apologizing. “And I’m sorry.” I force my shoulders to fall. Posture to soften. “ So fucking sorry, Bryn. I should’ve never said anything that I did. I should’ve never accused you or Lauren or left without even discussing the situation.”

“Apology accepted.” She tips her head towards the door. “You’re free to go now.”

“Bryn-”

“No, thank you.” Her arms fold protectively across her chest. “I don’t want any more of your practiced politician’s forgiveness speech or your consolation prizes for being a fucking asshole or your scribbled trite thoughts on expensive stationary.”

“What do you want then?” It’s impossible not to creep into the space between us. “Because I’m here. I’m right fucking here . In your world. In your waters. Uncomfortable. And anxious. And crawling in my own fucking skin to prove to you I’ll do whatever it takes to have you back in my life.”

Bryn’s mouth slightly opens yet nothing comes out.

“You want my ass here doing this tour every day ? Then this is where I’ll be.” Another step in her direction is taken. “You want me to pick you up from work? Drop you off? Meet you for lunch? Go for beers or wings with you and your coworkers?” Two more occur. “Then I will .” The instant I’m directly in front of her both hands land gently on her khaki pants covered hips. “I’ve let you have me in private. Now, I’m asking you to have me in public.” My grip slightly tightens. “ However you see fit. ”

All of a sudden, the door opens and in stumbles a confused, wavy-haired brunette. “Is this Through the Looking Tank?”

“It is,” Bryn professionally answers at the same time she sways herself out of my hold. “Can I help you with something?”

“My name’s Ava Danielson, and I work with one of the local papers.” She brushes a strand of hair away from her peachy complexion. “I’m supposed to be doing a piece about um,” her attention drops to her phone, “Sammy, the new catshark?”

“ Steven ,” the love of my life does her best not to snip, “and he’s a young hammerhead.”

“Is that like a big difference?”

“ Huge ,” she unhappily hisses.

“I was uh…told that…this was the um…best spot to…see…him…” Her head suddenly falls to one side on a less than casual point of the finger. “Aren’t you Weston Wilcox, the billionaire?”

Dread doesn’t hesitate to drip down my spine. “I am.”

“ Ohmygod… ” Ava mutters in disbelief. “ Ohmygod…ohmyg… ” Her lithe, flowery dressed figure propels itself towards me. “Is there like… any chance I could interview you instead?! The shark thing is a total puff piece but interviewing you?!” She shakes her balled fists in excitement. “That could change my whole career!”

It’s impossible to ignore the blatant disappointment on Bryn’s face, so I don’t.

“I will allow you to interview me in a small exclusive as long as you still write the piece about Steven, the hammerhead, and The Institute in which you also mention that Wilcox Enterprises will be hosting a fundraiser specifically for the sharks of this establishment in which I will also be in attendance.”

“You are?!” the woman I can’t live without quietly croaks.

“I will now.”

She bites her bottom lip a second time in an attempt to hide her smile. “ Sneaky, Mr. Wilcox. ”

“ Stealthy, Miss Winters. ” I slide my hands into my black pants pockets. “Like the apex predator I am.” Something similar to a whimper is poorly suppressed prompting me to tip my chin towards the reporter. “Do we have an arrangement, Miss Danielson?”

“ Ohmygod, yes! ” Her squawking needlessly continues. “ Yes! Yes! Yes! ”

Hurst’s presence slides back into the doorway yet is slyly dismissed by a small headshake.

She’s loud; however, I’m not in danger.

I don’t think.

“You may ask me three questions.” Bryn creeps closer to me on her own accord. “I suggest you choose them wisely. I’m not sure the next time I’ll be doing an interview.”

“Okay, cool, so, totally, no pressure. None whatsoever,” she murmurs to herself while fiddling around on her phone. “Uh okay.” Once she has a recording ability setup, she nervously begins, “So. Yeah. Um. Okay. You’re Weston Wilcox. The public, including almost your entire own company Wilcox Enterprises, hasn’t seen you in like ten years.”

“That’s a statement, Miss Danielson. Not a question.”

Bryn casually clears her throat as a nonverbal cue to tone it down.

Right.

I guess I forgot just how difficult these things can be.

Like dating and groveling, I’m vastly out of practice.

“Is this outing – here at The Bower and Powell Aquatic Institute – the start of you making more public appearances – like the aforementioned shark fundraiser – or will you be keeping them limited to this one and that one?”

“I will be wherever those I care about most in my life need me to be. Mr. Reese has done a remarkable job bearing the responsibility of being in the limelight for the sake of the company; however, we’ve reached a point of transition where that duty should no longer fall solely on him.” My gaze effortlessly cuts over to Bryn. “And from a personal perspective, I am willing to be wherever the woman I want wearing my last name needs me to be… whenever… she needs me to be.”

She tucks her bottom lip out of sight once more.

“Aww…” Miss Danielson coos prior to shaking her head in an attempt to regain her focus. “Do you think Wilcox Enterprises will be making other changes in the near future?”

“Certainly. Acquisitions are continuously occurring and finding important endeavors to fund such as marine life research and conservation are also always on the docket.” Seeing her prepared to ask a follow-up prompts me to remind, “That’s two questions, Miss Danielson. You only have one left.”

Her open mouth suddenly becomes paralyzed in that position.

Wouldn’t want her to waste a precious opportunity.

Or not capitalize on another chance to prove my word to Bryn.

“When can we expect the woman, you want wearing your last name to be wearing it?”

“Very smooth you two,” sassily leaves the person we’re discussing. “Was this planned?”

Miss Danielson eagerly shakes her head. “No! Not at all! This is just…that question is,” her non phone holding hand waves around in circles, “really what people wanna know. Yeah, company stuff is whatever, but his personal life? That’s what people wanna hear and discuss and know. So, I skipped the hoops. Went straight for the jugular.” She shifts her stare back to me with a lifted brow. “When can we expect a proposal announcement, Mr. Wilcox?”

Rather than reply to her, I lock eyes with Bryn. “ As soon as she says yes. ”

Additional amusement and adoration flutter through her gaze pushing Miss Danielson to ask, “Can I get a picture or two?”

My attention snaps back to her.

“For verification purposes.”

“Is my voice not enough?”

“It would add to the credibility of this impromptu interview.”

Apprehension has me preparing to shake my head when Bryn slides to the spot beside me. “How about if we’re both in it?”

“Even better!” squeaks the reporter. “ Ohmygod, could you two recreate the original photo?!” She gasps so loudly it stumbles us backwards. “It could become like your signature pose!”

“Why is that a thing?” I unhappily grump.

“Because people are the kissing fish in the social media tank of society.”

“That analogy is disturbingly accurate.”

“I know.” Bryn hits me with a mischievous smirk. “How many times do I have to tell you that I have brains and booty?”

“ Beauty. ”

“That too.” She curls against me right as I laugh, allowing me to completely relax into having her so close. Having her where she belongs. The only place she belongs. “Now, look into the camera while I kiss your cheek.”

Our eyes finding one another’s again precedes me insisting, “How about I look at you instead?” Before Bryn can argue, I gently cup the nape of her neck and quietly confess, “ You have any idea how much I’ve missed you? ”

“ Not enough. ”

The teasing response receives a low grumble. “ Careful, Miss Winters, you sound like you’re flirting with me. ”

“ And if I am, Mr. Wilcox? ”

“Then I might just let myself believe you could fall in love with me again. ”

“ Again implies I stopped at some point. ”

“ Tell me you didn’t, ” I airily demand. “ Tell me you love me, little prey. ”

“ You first, Wes. ”

There’s no further delay in our mouths pressing together. My tongue swiftly captures hers, spelling the words, reiterating my promises, my proposals. Round and round and round it whirls, lapping and begging and pledging my dedication.

My devotion.

“ Perfect ,” is whispered from our onlooker, the person who is cementing my status in the public’s eye.

And that is a position I think I’m finally ready to handle.

The next step in our future that I am willing to take for her.

For us.

For the next chapter in the Wilcox legacy.

***

Thank you for reading Private: The Extended Edition (The Private Series #1)! I hope you loved this contemporary, romantic suspense, billionaire romance!