Julian

 

 

"You saved me a boatload of cash, so the least I can do is buy you a bottle of the finest whiskey." I place the brown paper bag in the middle of his desk.

Griffin Kent inches the top of the bag down with the tip of the pen in his hand. "That's not real whiskey, Julian. It's that cheap ass shit we used to drink in high school."

I laugh as I take a seat on the sofa in his office. "Where's Sebastian? I thought he was meeting us here."

"Where he always is; knee deep in someone else's blood while he tries to solve their murder." He yanks the bottle out of the bag and cracks open the lid. "Do you want a drink?"

"No." I wave my hand in the air. "I don't drink cheap whiskey anymore."

"You're an asshole." He laughs as he takes a sip from the bottle. "Christ. That burns all the way down. We must have been desperate when we were sixteen and thought this was it."

"We were typical sixteen-year-olds." I laugh as I drape my arm over the back of the sofa. "Whiskey, weed and women."

"Whiskey, weed and high school girls," he corrects me. "Women now, speaking of which…"

"Isadora's attorney balked at the agreement I had her sign when we started dating. Thank you for that."

Griffin dips his chin. "You're worth too much to fuck around with a woman without something in place to protect your assets."

I was against the idea at first when Griffin proposed it years ago, but he specializes in family law. He's handled a few high profile divorce cases in this city so he's always looking ahead. It was his idea to arrange for Isadora to sign an agreement that limited her interest in me financially to any shares of the company I'd eventually gift her with. Surprisingly, she agreed to it.

Although we've never lived together, she feels she deserves more now. She doesn't.

"How are you making out with getting her out of the company?"

Griffin knows that the last few weeks haven't been easy. Isadora is still on leave but that hasn't stopped her from reaching out to our employees to make it known that she feels forced to stay away.

"I'm working on lining up a new job offer for her." I rest my hand on my knee. "I'll know more in a week or two, but she'll trip over her heels if she's offered this. I doubt like hell she'd even step foot back in the Bishop offices if this works out."

"Tell me more." He taps the tip of the pen against the top of his desk.

"I want the deal in place before I share."

I trust him with my life, but I don't have anything firmly in place, so there's no need to explain the details yet.

He rakes his hand through his brown hair. "I'm in the mood for some pool. You game?"

He stands and slides his suit jacket on.

I rise to my feet. "You're on. Loser buys the winner a bottle of scotch."

"The good stuff." He rounds his desk. "No more nostalgic shit for old times' sake."

"I look forward to winning." I follow him out of his office and into the empty reception area. "You're about to lose your shirt."

 

***

 

I let the water from the shower run over my back as I palm my cock. It's purple and angry, swollen from thoughts of Maya.

She's been on my mind all day. The touch of her skin on my hand, the taste of her lips on my mouth. If the Clarksons wouldn't have interrupted us, I would have dropped back to my knees and ate her right there in the penthouse.

I was aching for more when I left but work got hold of me. It was after ten before I stopped at Griffin's office and near one a.m. when I finally left the bar.

I didn't notice Maya's voicemail until I got home because I don't my messages as often as I should in the evening. That changes now. I want to be available to her, whenever she needs me.

I turn off the spray and step out into the cold bathroom.

I towel off quickly and pull on a pair of black boxers before I reach for my phone from the counter.

She'll be dead asleep by now but I thumb out a text anyway.

I'm sorry I missed your call, Maya. I'll be in touch first thing tomorrow.

I press send and then walk through the darkened apartment to my bedroom. I toss the phone on the bed and stare out the window.

I hear the faint chime of an incoming text.

Shouldn't you be asleep?

I smile. She's awake as well. My body stirs with the image of her in a bed, naked, with one hand holding her phone, the other fingering herself. 

I could ask you the same thing.

Her response isn't immediate but I can see she's typing something. I wait patiently, knowing sleep isn't going to find my tonight. I'm too wound up, too wanting.

I have your cufflinks. You left them at the penthouse.

It's not the response I was hoping for but it's better than silence.

I can drop by your place tomorrow and pick them up.

I press send and sit on the edge of the bed. I rub my cock through my boxers. I'll have to come tonight. I feel the sharp bite of need nipping at my spine.

Or…I can come by your place now and drop them off.

I read the message twice before I type out my address and three simple words: I'll be waiting.