Normally, Willa made every effort to avoid Lance. So why is she dancing for me? And why pretend she’s Lexi?
“Congratulations on getting the Capitol Complex,” Clay said and gave his shoulder a clap of approval.
Lance shook his head to clear it. “That’s what this is about?” He yanked his attention away from Willa long enough to assess Clay’s expression. “What if I hadn’t closed the deal today?”
Clay smiled smoothly. “My plan B was to have her say, ‘Better luck next time.’ Either way, it’s quite a show; am I right?”
“You have too much time on your hands.” Lance turned his attention back to Willa. I know what I’d like on my hands. On my anything. Lance groaned. Stop. This is how I fucked it up the first time.
“Having fun?”
No. This is torture, that’s what it is, Lance thought but didn’t say.
“Your sister has beautiful taste in friends. Twins. Seriously. And you’ve known them since high school? Tell me you’ve had them both, preferably together. No, don’t tell, it’ll ruin my fantasy of doing the same.”
The idea of Clay with Willa sliced through Lance. He snarled, “Shut the fuck up.”
Clay raised his hands in mock fear. “Not even willing to share one? I’ll take either. Honestly, I can’t tell them apart.”
“Then you’re blind. That’s Willa.”
Clay’s eyebrows shot up. He turned his head to watch Willa as she was picked up and twirled around by a male dancer. “Not Lexi? Do they pretend to be each other often? That’s hot.”
“No, it’s not,” Lance said unhappily. We’ve known each other for twelve years. Does she think I would ever confuse them now?
Clay rubbed his chin and looked Lance over again. “Just ask her out.”
With a frown, Lance leaned in aggressively. “Drop it.” He hadn’t known what to think of Clay when Dax and Kenzi had first brought him around. Lance didn’t have much respect for the typical super-rich silver spoons, who had been handed their fortunes. They were often weak, vain, and in search of entertainment regardless of how it affected others. He, on the other hand, had been brought up with a strong work ethic and knew what a day’s work meant. He was no silver-spooner.
Lance was an architect. His buildings were designed to stand the test of time and weather. Extremely utilitarian. He and his brothers had worked hard to achieve what they had. Yes, they’d been given large trust funds, but only after they’d already established themselves. They didn’t have time to be bored or plan fucking flash mobs.
Dax had warned Lance that Clay had been born with more money than God and would go to extreme lengths to avoid boredom. Which explains gyrating dancers instead of a card.
Dax had joked that Clay looked lonely since he’d been spending so much time with Kenzi. He’d asked Lance to include him in on a project. Clay not only wouldn’t expect compensation, he would bring his network of connections to any endeavor.
But this—this is him fucking with me.
He’s testing how I feel about her.
Yes, Clay had real estate expertise for the city project Lance had bid on, but he had yet to share any of it. Clay’s appreciation for historical buildings and his reputation for optimizing the value of a property was the main reason Lance had agreed. However, the price of working with Clay was proving higher than it was worth.
He asked personal questions a Barrington would never ask, never mind answer. His general level of interest in all things Barrington had been one reason Lance had agreed to entertain him. He’d wanted to shift Clay’s attention to something besides the inner workings of his family. It had worked.
And now, it had backfired.
Clay looked amused. “So angry. Why? You shouldn’t want to punch me for having the woman you’re lusting over dance in that skimpy outfit, you should thank me. I don’t even have feelings for her, and it’s turning me on.”
Lance raised a hand to grab the front of Clay’s shirt as a rush of anger surged through him. It was only the pleased expression on the other man’s face that held him in check. Clay was trying to get a rise out of him, and it was working. Lance took a deep breath and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck in frustration. “You need to back the fuck off.”
“Maybe,” Clay said with a chuckle.
“What the hell is your problem?” Lance growled. No amount of expert advice is worth this shit. Lance turned away from Clay and realized the music had ended, the dancers had dispersed, and Willa was gone. He swore beneath his breath.
“What would stop you from hooking up with her?” Clay gave Lance a long measured look. “She was upset when she saw you. You have history, don’t you?”