Chapter 5

Wes

The moment we’ve both step foot into my first-floor office, I grab my best friend by his tiny, blue square patterned suit jacket and slam him into the wall beside the light panel. “ What the fuck were you thinking?! ”

“I-”

Another hard shove is executed. “ She could’ve seen my fucking face! ”

“I-”

“How could you betray me like this?!”

“I-”

“ Why would you betray me like this?!”

“I-”

“Do you wanna sleep with her?!” Disapproval and outrage fuse together in my voice. “Do you think you have to fuck me over to fuck her?!” When he doesn’t immediately try to deny the accusation, I scream in his face. “ Answer me! ”

“Can I answer you?” J.T. calmly asks in return, hands gently tapping mine to let go. “Because so far you haven’t let me.”

Dropping my stare to where I’m death gripping his attire quickly leads to me releasing him.

Stepping back.

Lowering my mask as well as jaw to profusely apologize over my actions yet can’t seem to form the words.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

What the fuck is happening to me?

How could I treat my best friend – my only fucking friend – like that?

And why?

Why?!

Because he slipped out of sight with the one woman in the world, I’ve wanted in a decade but damn sure can’t have because she hates me?

Because she should hate me.

For what I did to her father.

What she thinks I’m doing to her mother.

The one woman I haven’t been able to get off my mind since she stepped foot on my property is the same one, I have no business being anywhere fucking near and yet…yet not being near her…seeing someone else near her…puts me out of my goddamn mind.

How does that make any fucking sense?

How is that…any…type of…fair?

Have I not suffered enough?

Do I still not suffer enough?

“I didn’t know she was gonna do what she did until she had done it,” he cautiously explains, hands slightly lifted in obvious surrender. “She just wanted to meet you and instead of taking no for an answer – like a sane, rational person, which for the record she isn’t – she schemed this shit up.” J.T. poorly fights the urge to smile. “Flipped on the Bat signal and waited for you to swoop in from the shadows.”

I’m not sure what deepens my scowl more, his amusement or the superhero reference.

“She’s basically your Talia, Bruce.”

“That storyline didn’t end well in any of the comics I’ve read.”

“Maybe it does in some of the others?”

There’s no stopping my stare from narrowing in his direction.

“I’m just saying that…maybe…manhandling of me aside…”

“ Sorry ,” is interjected at a barely audible volume.

“…maybe having her League of Shadows her ass into your life isn’t a bad thing.”

My lips press firmly together in silent objection.

“Maybe she’s exactly what you need.” Arrogance wiggles itself into his hazel eyes. “ Who you need.”

“Samples,” Penny meekly announces at the same time she rolls the cart in. “Clark asked me to deliver you the samples you needed for this morning’s meeting?”

Her presence has me relocating my frame to the edge of the desk to provide her with adequate space for delivery. “And where is Clark?”

“I believe checking on your guest.”

“Is she okay?!” Panic doesn’t even bother hiding in my tone, a sound that has my best friend triumphantly smirking. “Is something wrong? Is there something she needs that we haven’t provided?”

Green eyes that are usually filled with hope momentarily flash me hatred. “ I’m sure she’s fine, Wes. ”

“Would you like to stay and try the samples with us?” J.T. charmingly offers, body gravitating closer to her. “We could absolutely use an objective, consumer’s opinion.”

Rather than divert her gaze to him, she keeps it locked on me. “Would you like that, Wes?” Eagerness returns. “Would you like me to stay?”

I would like to know what’s wrong with Bryn.

What Clark’s doing for her.

With her.

Because of her.

I’d like to know if she likes the sugar infused pancreas poison, she had J.T. make while Lucky scoffed.

I’d like to know what she plans to eat.

Wear.

Fuck, I don’t know whether I want her wearing more clothes so that no one else gets to see her incredible long, tone legs look so beautifully bare or less since covering up tits that perfect should be a crime punishable by ball hanging.

The idea of seeing her topless leaves me no choice but to move behind my desk.

Adjust the growing bulge I did not give permission to join the conversation.

That hasn’t even wanted to be a part of this type of discussion for years.

“I’m sure he wants you to stay,” the man with an unrequited crush desperately pleads, eyes widened to assist in his imploring. “ Right, Wes? ”

Dropping down into my chair precedes an indifferent shrug. “An additional opinion on the product is welcomed but not crucial.”

J.T.’s mouth twitches to express what I imagine is his insistence she’s more than welcomed, she’s wanted and needed, yet she curtly nods, cutting him off. “Would you two like me to pour glasses before my dismal or is that something you would prefer to do yourself?”

He tries again to answer, “You can-”

“We’re capable.” I fold my hands on top of my deflating member and nod. “Thank you.”

She offers the same gesture in an exiting nature. “I’ll be in the greenhouse assisting if you need me.”

Another word doesn’t leave my lips and another glance doesn’t leave her.

Her shutting the door accents her departure, which is followed by J.T. sighing, “Ladies always want The Bat, never the Wing.” He cringes over his phrasing. “Like…as in… Nightwing. Not as in one of my legs or arms.”

“That was all…” my face scrunches in mirth-filled bewilderment, “just bad. ”

Ringing sounds from the mounted tablet on the desk prompt him to head for the leather seat across from me in order to answer it. One tap presents his presence to Sully Marcel, the head of our largest distillery in the country, “Morning, Sully.”

“Mr. Reese!” He enthusiastically states in return, images of his pudgy, fair skinned face popping up in my mind. “I’m so ecstatic for you and Mr. Wilcox to sample and decide on the limited-edition flavors we’ll be launching this winter. I really think this is the best batch we’ve created so far!”

The face of my company beams brightly, and I merely sit back.

Watch.

Observe the man the world loves to see while wallowing in the self-disgust that’s settling in the pit of stomach.

Maybe part of me does need someone like Bryn, but I can guarantee that no one needs me.

Not to hear my voice.

Not to feel my touch.

And especially not to see my face.