Chapter Two

Perry

"She's hot." My brother Carson stares at me with a laugh in his throat. "That must make you feel better."

I shake my head and walk back toward my office. "Shut the fuck up."

He and my older brother Gentry follow behind, committed to the rousing they're after. This is how we talk to each other, so usually I don't think much of it, but right now, it's grating my nerves.

"How you gonna pull this off?" Gentry groans, leaning against the door frame. He's more serious than my younger brother Carson, but they're both annoying as fuck. The good thing is, we all have the same mentality when it comes to work… relentless until the job's done.

I glance up at the men in my office. "Like any other mission. Define the object, execute with efficiency, success."

Carson laughs. "You're talking about drunk people at a wedding. You're not negotiating with terrorists."

"Same thing, isn't it? Everything in this situation will be unpredictable, and I'll have to talk my way out of it while turning their opinion to my favor."

"That may work for the family, but what about the client? I've seen a picture of her. I know she'd throw me off my game. Hell, her sister roped Ox like he was a calf. What makes you think you can do better?" Carson laughs.

If I were standing, I'd slam the door and walk away from this stupid fucking conversation, but I'm not. "You guys are a pain in the ass."

"What?" Carson continues. "You're lonely, and she's clearly alone or she wouldn't be hiring your ass to escort her. Way I see it, two adults and the romance of a wedding. I'm just sayin' you might be next."

"Just because you're soft enough to fall for this nonsense doesn't mean I am. I have plenty to get done before this weekend, so would you kindly… get the fuck out? Thanks."

"Seriously, man. She's cute. You should shoot your shot."

Truth be told, I think we're all a little lonely, but we've been raised the same way and so our lives have taken the same path. Surround yourself with work that fills your time and mind, and then, when that's done, do it all over again. That pattern of events doesn't leave much time for dating.

While I agree that Siren is gorgeous, she's a client, and it's my objective to keep things professional. It's not a difficult task. I've spent my entire military service suppressing sexual urges. In my line of work, it was imperative that I kept a clear head. Had I been influenced by every skirt that came my way, I'd be a terrible fuck of a negotiator. You'd be surprised at the things women can do to manipulate the situation.

I once had a woman strip down naked in front of me, grab me by the dick, and offer me a good time in exchange for government secrets. The sad part is I know this works. In the military, we called these women ‘honeypots,' and it's just about the most effective manner of coercion that's out there. You don't have to look hard to find an entire history of men who've given up everything to touch a woman.

Life is easier without sex. I noticed a long time ago that without it, I think more clearly. My mind doesn't get fogged up by hormones, and I'm not wasting energy and emotion on the randomness of another human being. You have no idea how much work one can get done when love isn't a priority and sex isn't a thought.

I type in Siren's social media. I figure a girl her age will have loads of content for me to go through. It's sad how much you can find out about a person online. For some unknown reason, the people of Earth seem to think that sharing every piss they take is necessary for survival.

I scroll down and study her Facebook page. She's enrolled at the University of Colorado. Looks like she stays on campus, or she did. There haven't been any photos updated in a while. Beyond that, she has a Persian cat named Leo and a load of friends that she keeps on rotation, but none of them look close enough to comment regularly.

I click on her profile photo and study her face. Crimson red hair, matching lipstick, porcelain skin, a sweet smile, and freckles that dot her cheeks and spread over her nose. There's no denying she's adorable. I knew that the second I saw her today. The next photo is of one on a beach. She holds a drink with an umbrella and wears a short green dress that hugs her hips tight.

My cock twitches.

I drag in a deep breath and scroll away from the picture like the evolved human I am, but something drags me back again. At first, I think maybe it's my intuition. Maybe there's something I need to know about this girl that's in that photo. Except when I'm looking, I realize quickly it's not my intuition at all drawing me back. It's attraction.

This never happens. Not ever. I see a woman, I compartmentalize her, and I move on. For some reason, I'm stuck on Siren. I shouldn't be. She's an entitled brat who's using her brother-in-law and our security firm as her personal dating service, which I don't respect at all. That said, I respect my brother, and I'll do what's necessary for him.

I click through Siren's friends list, looking for her mother. If I can find her likes and dislikes, I can attune my personality to best align with Mom's, and we can find commonality immediately.

Her relationship to Siren is clearly marked, and when I find her, I see she looks nothing like her daughter. At the same time, I realize how off-limits Siren truly is. Even if I were interested, her mother is only slightly older than I am. She's been divorced for three years, and it looks like the new daddy is a financial upgrade from the photo I saw of Siren with her father a minute ago.

Mom is a real estate agent who likes Real Housewives and is obsessed with these Caraway porcelain containers because I guess Rubbermaid is trash. From these few things, I know she'll be critical and pay close attention to detail.

I glance toward the clock and text Ox for Siren's number. It's only four thirty, but I want to be ready for the date this evening.

He texts back quickly without a load of bullshit, and I appreciate that. This sucks enough already, and I think he knows it.

Me: What's your address?

Siren: I wasn't myself earlier.

Dear God, why does asking for an address need to be this complicated?

Me: No worries. What's your address?

Siren: I just want you to know that I'm not going to hold back when I see you tonight. If I do that on Saturday, everyone will know something is up. I need to be myself.

Me: Sounds good. Address?

She sends me a pin to her house, and I pull up the map, studying the directions ahead of time. I should stop home and shower, put on some cologne, and pick up some flowers. We're faking this, but I don't do anything half-assed. A date is a date, and I plan to make her feel like it's one.