The Wright Brother

“Boyfriend,” Jensen filled in.

My eyebrows rose dramatically. Boyfriend? Whoa! Whoa! Where had that come from? My mouth was open slightly, and I wanted to say something, but I didn’t know what to say. Not that I didn’t like the phrase rolling off his tongue, but I hadn’t even known what we were doing. I hadn’t known where this was going.

Now, he was claiming me.

Jensen Wright was claiming me.

“Boyfriend,” Mitch said. He seemed to weigh his options. He faced me, but I narrowed my eyes in warning. “Well, that was fast.”

“Not fast enough,” I muttered.

“Why am I not surprised?” Mitch said, reaching for his trendy leather messenger bag. “You always did like to be a kept woman.”

I winced at his assessment as he brushed past Jensen and out the door. Shots had been fired. And I’d let him have the last word. Ass.

“Emery…”

“Let’s just get some coffee,” I whispered. My head was spinning. Between the confrontation with Mitch and Jensen claiming he was my boyfriend, I needed a second to think.

“I didn’t mean to spring that on you,” he said. He sounded sheepish.

I glanced up at him and saw that he actually did look sheepish.

“I meant for the whole thing to be romantic. To take you out to dinner and ask you over candlelight if you’d be my girlfriend. Then, it just kind of slipped out.”

“Oh,” I said softly. “Wow.”

“I know it’s fast and that I have a lot to tell you, but I want you to be mine.” He reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair out of my face. “I can’t get you out of my head, and I don’t want you out. So, do you want to be my girlfriend?”

I laughed abruptly, and then it suddenly poured out of me. This was so formal. So controlled. So purposeful.

“What?” Jensen asked. His body became guarded, as if preparing for the fallout.

“You really aren’t like any other guy, are you?”

He arched an eyebrow in question.

“Most guys are too busy trying to keep girls dangling on the line, but you just come right out and say you want a relationship.”

“I’m a businessman. I say what I want, I negotiate for it, and then I take it. I don’t want to lead you on.”

“I like that.”

He beamed.

“And I like that you said you were my boyfriend.”

“Good,” he said, drawing me in for a kiss. “Does that make you my girlfriend?”

“I guess it does.”





Twenty



Jensen


I left Emery at the university to handle the remainder of her school issues. I hadn’t wanted to abandon her when that prick was nearby, but she’d promised she would be fine. She’d claimed that Mitch was more bark than he was bite. After getting a good look at him, I had to agree. Though it didn’t make me feel any better.

Time and time again, I had claimed that I wasn’t a violent man. I’d been tested on that twice before.

One time, I’d failed.

One time, I’d succeeded.

This time, I had come so close to losing it and beating the ever-loving shit out of the skeezy, conniving bastard. My hands had fisted, aching to blacken his eyes and rearrange his face.

But I knew that wasn’t what Emery wanted. Also, I had a company to think about, and assault charges never looked good in the media. In the end though, threatening him with administration interference had been enough to send him packing. Couldn’t even stand up to me like a man. Even without knowing who I was, he had known, if I put some weight behind it, I could get him fired for what he had done to Emery and the handful of other girls he’d seduced in his time as a professor. With my blood boiling as it was, I had half a mind to make the call.

Luckily for him, I had a business meeting that I had to get to. I would have to deal with him later.

I stormed into the Tarman Corporation headquarters like a thundercloud.

A bunch of hurried receptionists teetered out of my way with a squeaked, “Hello, Mr. Wright.”

All I had to do was shake hands, sign some paperwork, and then dismantle the Austin-based corporation I’d been trying to get my hands on for years. They were Wright Construction’s biggest competitor, and now was the time for it to all get finalized. As our motto said, What’s Wright Is Right.

“Gentlemen, lady,” I said with a brief acknowledgment to Abigail Tarman, the only woman in the room, “let’s begin.”

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.”

K.A. Linde's books