“Reece. I didn’t expect to see you in.”
Reece glanced up from his computer at his vice president’s surprised voice. “Didn’t expect to see you here, either, Dylan.”
Dylan Porter smiled in his charming, too-slick way and sidled into the office. “No rest for the wicked.” He sat down in one of the leather chairs opposite Reece’s desk and leaned forward. “So I’ve been hearing this crazy rumor going around about you…”
Fuck. Did he know about the blackmail? But how could he? Unless…he was the blackmailer. The idea sent a ripple of hot betrayal through Reece’s gut. Dylan was the closest thing he had to a friend, but yeah, the guy couldn’t be ruled out just because of that. A computer genius in his own right, Dylan certainly had the skills for blackmail. Not to mention, he was ambitious, and his vision for the future of DMW didn’t always line up with Reece’s. He didn’t want help from Irving James, and they had gotten into more than one argument over it.
Reece’s heart kicked against his ribs, but he kept his face firmly impassive. “You know better than to believe rumors.”
“I do,” Dylan agreed, his eyes crinkling with humor. “But judging by the ring on your finger, I’m guessing this one’s true. You really went and got yourself hitched?”
Reece gazed down at the band. Oh, right. That. Not the blackmail then. “Yeah, it’s true.”
A grin broke across Dylan’s face. “Congrats, man. You sure play things close to the chest. I didn’t even know you were seeing anyone.”
“It’s…” He thought about lying, saying the relationship had been going on for a while, but made a split-second decision against it. For one thing, he and Shelby would never be able to pull off faking a long-term engagement. And lying to Dylan sat like a lump of lead in his gut, so he settled on a half-truth. “It was a bit of a whirlwind.”
Whirlwind. Hah. Wasn’t that a fitting description of Shelby?
Dylan laughed. “Sweep you off your feet, did she?”
“Something like that.”
“Well, when you know, you know. I knew Alicia was it for me after our first date. ’Course, it took me three years to convince her of it. What’s her name?”
“Shelby.”
“You do realize Alicia is going to want to meet her? And she’ll probably want to drag us all out on double dates to the opera.”
Reece internally winced at the mention of opera. He wasn’t a fan, but Dylan and Alicia were and somehow, attending with the power couple had become part of his public persona. He was expected to go and mingle and pretend he gave a fuck, so he did, even though he was out of fucks to give at this point.
But the thought of Shelby at the opera was so ridiculous, a snort of laughter escaped before he could stop it. Shelby would give that lot of uptight pricks coronaries.
Dylan raised an eyebrow at him and Reece coughed to hide the laugh. “I, uh, don’t think Shelby’s the type to appreciate opera.”
“Really?” Dylan frowned. “What does she do?”
“She’s a small business owner.” Which was the truth, but it still boggled his mind. “She owns The Bean Gallery.”
“The place you like that serves horrible coffee?”
It could be pretty horrible, he had to admit, but come to think of it, the coffee had improved considerably in the last few months. Starting right around the time Shelby had bought out the previous owners. Maybe she knew what she was doing after all. “It’s not that bad, Dyl.”
“Uh-huh. Just like I don’t tell Alicia her cooking sucks, but I’ll defend it until my dying breath if anyone else says so. Welcome to married life.” Dylan levered his gym-honed body out of the chair. “When will we get to meet her?”
“She’ll be at the party tomorrow night.”
Dylan scowled. “I still say we don’t need to impress that old blowhard James. We just need to lose the dead weight of your brothers’ security company. Cut them loose and then we can take DMW public—”
Sighing heavily, Reece sat back in his chair. “We’ve had this discussion. We’re not ready to go public.”
“Maybe not, but we’d be a hell of a lot closer to ready if you quit playing Dick Tracy. You’re not a private investigator, Reece. We’re computer geeks and number crunchers. Stick to what we’re good at, and DMW will flourish.”
“I’m not abandoning my brothers. You know I can’t do that.”
“I know.” Dylan walked to the door, but paused before leaving and glanced back. “But, Reece, if it came down to it, would you choose your brothers over all the people who rely on us for their paychecks? Would you really give our employees their pink slips to save your brothers’ struggling business?”