The Wright Brother(52)

I settled in for the long haul. I knew they wouldn’t let this go easily. The owner was the son of my father’s biggest adversary. We were about the same age and had attended Texas Tech at the same time. Then, we had each thought we would outgrow our respective father’s ambitions. We’d both be architects and reshape the industry. It hadn’t worked out that way. It had been way more fucked up than that.

“Marc,” I said, holding my hand out to the current Mr. Tarman himself.

“Jensen,” he said blandly.

He shook my hand, and we each squeezed tighter than we had to.

“Shall we?” Marc asked, gesturing to the long rectangular table in the center of the room.

“I believe we shall.”

I stalked to the front of the room and took my seat across from Marc. The negotiations had been over weeks ago, but I knew that he wouldn’t let me off this easily. I had been slowly eroding his company over the course of the last five years. I’d have loved to see it burn to the ground already, but it was better this way. Sweeter.



It was hours before I officially signed. I had known Marc would take me through the wringer, and I hadn’t been disappointed. But I signed the last piece of paper with a flourish. Watching Marc hand over the company to me was perfection. I passed the paperwork to my lawyer to review one last time and then to file.

“Good doing business with you,” I said with a smirk.

“I wish I could say the same to you,” Marc said with barely concealed animosity.

“Now, now, Marcus,” his younger sister, Abigail, said. “Would you care to join us for dinner, Jensen?”

“I have to decline. But thank you, Abby.”

“Jensen, come on. I insist. We’ve known each other too long for it to all end this way.”

My eyes cut to Marc’s. “I have my…girlfriend with me.”

Marc seemed to perk up with both shock and confusion at that statement. “Girlfriend? That’s a new one.”

“Marcus,” Abigail snapped. “Your girlfriend is welcome to come, Jensen. I can’t wait to meet her.”

“All right. Let me let her know. She’s at the hotel.”

“Why don’t we pick her up on the way?” Abigail suggested.

Marc looked like it was quite literally the last thing he wanted to do. I couldn’t agree more. But, if it made Marc uncomfortable, then I was in for it.

I took out my phone and clicked over to Messages, only to realize I’d missed two in the midst of the negotiations. I gritted my teeth.

Vanessa. Goddamn woman had the worst fucking timing.

Don’t do this.

You don’t have to sign that paperwork today. Your father wouldn’t have wanted this.

I clenched my jaw, willing myself not to show any emotions in front of the Tarmans. They fed on it. Vanessa bringing up my father was a low blow, and she knew it.

I responded shortly.

Signed, sealed, delivered.

Then, I erased her messages and pulled up Emery’s number, letting her know that I would be picking her up at the hotel for dinner with the Tarmans.

We’re going to dinner with the people who owned the company you just purchased? What should I wear?

Something sexy as hell. See you in fifteen.

I retreated to the lobby with Marc and Abigail. Marc was on his phone in deep conversation with someone who he probably cared very little about. Any excuse not to have to talk to me any longer. And I was grateful.

Abigail could field the tension like a professional.

“Who is the new girl, Jensen?” she asked.

“She’s recently moved to town. Was a PhD student here at UT before coming back to Lubbock.”

Abigail’s eyebrows rose. She knew my policy as well as anyone. “An in-town girl? Why, you never fail to surprise me.”

I shrugged. “She’s worth it.”

“And does she know?”

My eyes shot to her hazel ones. They were searching and curious. Abigail knew too much about me and my family. I suddenly had a bad feeling about bringing Emery to this dinner.

“She doesn’t,” Abigail said as a matter of fact. “God help you with Marc here.”

I ignored Abigail’s comment and slid into the limousine that the Tarmans had waiting. It was a bit ostentatious for the circumstances, but I had just paid them a small fortune for the company. They could afford it for now.

We pulled up in front of the hotel a short while later, and Emery was standing there, dressed to kill. I didn’t know how she had managed it in the short time I’d given her, but she was in a stunning red cocktail dress and pumps. Her hair was swept off her face, and she had on cherry-red lipstick. A color that had me thinking a million dirty thoughts at once. Like what that color would taste like. And how nice it would look around my dick.