HI! It's that time of day again! I just want to say another thank you to everyone taking the time to read this! I really do appreciate it! This chapter is a bit short so I've decided to post the next chapter immediately just so you don't have to wait for a longer chapter, this may happen in the future, these are just filler chapters.
Tobias
Even though I spent all night with my lawyer, trying to find a loophole in that bastard's agreement, I read the paperwork one more time.
The terms are clear.
Thirty days to win Tris' heart. To convince a board of trustees I'm a healthy, normal man who is capable of love.
Because the bastard knows he ruined it for me. And he wants to punish me for breaking free of him.
Of course, that's the problem.
The board is five men. One of them is the bastard who's pulling my strings. Another is the bastard's lapdog.
Which means there are three men who need to believe Tris and I are madly in love. Worse, they need to find her charming enough they vote in my favour.
They're the types who listen to their peers. If we convince the world, we'll convince them.
If we don't—
I can't consider that option.
It's not about the contract. It's not about losing the company I built from scratch. It's not even about the money.
It's about beating the bastard who's pulling my strings. He doesn't get to control me. He doesn't get to win. Not again.
I shove the papers in the bottom drawer of my desk. Turn the lock. No one else, and I mean no one—not Zeke, or his fiancée, or my assistants, or Tris—is going to learn about this.
It's bad enough the lawyer knows.
It's bad enough it exists.
I suck a breath through my teeth. Straighten my tie. Smooth my jacket.
I'm exhausted. Coffee isn't enough, but it's all I have for now.
I move past my assistant's desk. Straight to the kitchen in the middle of the office. It's early enough I should be alone—the sky is still orange with the sunrise—but I'm not.
Uriah is in his office, at his computer. A few months ago, I would have been sure he was working. But recently, he confessed he's fallen for an online friend. Or maybe an online obsession is a better way to put it.
He follows her life from afar. She doesn't know he exists.
He swears it's not about her looks or some need to possess her. He swears he's only interested in her as an artist. A writer. A cultural scholar. Something like that.
Who can keep up with Uriah's dalliances?
I suppose I can't lecture him about deception. Not that I would. I understand the way the world works. Nice people who play by the rules lose.
People who are willing to do whatever it takes—
They're the ones who win.
If he wants her, he needs to find a way to have her. No matter what. I'm not about to question his obsession. I have my own.
His eyes flit from the computer to me. He raises a brow. Trouble in paradise and shakes his head.
I try to ignore him as I fix a macchiato. Not my usual preference—I take my espresso with a hint of sugar, no milk—but I've been craving the drink since I saw one in Tris' hands.
I long to taste everything that's been on her lips.
Fuck, why am I trying to be a gentleman here? She wants me. She practically jumped into my arms in the limo.
I should act like a normal person. Pull her into my lap and kiss her.
But I'm not a normal person.
Yes, I could pin her to the leather seat, hold her arms over her head, kiss her until she moans against my mouth—
Fuck, I'm losing my train of thought.
The espresso maker whirs. Then it's a soft drip, drip, drip. Footsteps.
Uriah's deep voice. That accent that screams I know better than you and I'm more sophisticated. "Good morning."
Or maybe I'm in a shitty mood and I don't want to hear his opinion about my relationship. "You're here early."
"Is that for me?" He takes the macchiato from the machine. Brings it to his lips. "Still rubbish." He offers it back.
I don't want anything he's drunk. I'm not a germaphobe. It's a matter of principle.
I start fixing another.
He laughs. Takes another sip. Grimaces. "Is there trouble in paradise?"
"There is. Someone is stealing my espresso."
His low chuckle fills the room. He's not a happy-go-lucky guy, exactly, but he's not restrained either. He uses his money to fly helicopters, jump out of aeroplanes, surf the North Shore.
Uriah in Hawaiian print board shorts. That makes me laugh. Not because he's black. Because he's, well him.
Tori says he's like a younger, richer Idris Elba.
But then Tori lives to irritate me with these comparisons.
"Always in a sour mood, aren't you, Tobias?" He places the nearly full espresso cup in the sink. Fills the electric kettle with water.
"Should I switch to tea?"
"Of course. But I know your mother tried."
"Sunshine in a cup."
"And your fiancée?" He stresses the last word like he finds it hard to believe I have a fiancée.
"Don't tell me your stereotyping."
"Tea's the most popular beverage in the world." He holds up a tin of English Biscuits. "Of course, in the states, you're still holding on to the taxation."
"Of course."
He shifts to the matter at hand. "That happened fast."
"It did."
"Unusually fast."
"And your friend?" I motion to his computer. "Still pretending you're someone you're not?"
"I should ask you that."
"Yes, I pretend I'm a functioning human."
He laughs that laugh that means I know you think you're joking, but you're not. "How is Zeke?"
"Fine, last I heard. Do you need help with a tech issue? I'm sure he can stop fucking his fiancée for long enough to assist."
"Been too long?" His smile is knowing. "I've been there before." His gaze shifts to his computer. "There are opportunities, but they aren't as appealing as a woman you can't have."
"She's my fiancée."
"Yes."
"We're happy."
"Does she know you aren't in love with her?"
My stomach twists. It's not that simple. I'm not capable of loving anyone. If I were, it would be her. "Are you the relationship expert all of a sudden?"
"I have enough." He chuckles. "Even if they're short."
"I do too."
"Yes, but you're more discrete."
Of course, his taste is legendary. Maybe I should ask for advice. He has women falling in love with him, even when he doesn't want that.
Of course, it's the same for me. It's always the women who connect the least. The ones who can't see even a sliver of the man behind the scars.
"The meeting is in how long?" he asks.
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"You tell me."
Am I really this obvious? "Twenty-eight days."
"Interesting timing."
Sometimes, I hate having business partners. They learn things they shouldn't.
Uriah is a genius when it comes to information. He can find anything, anywhere.
He found this.
He doesn't know the entire story, but he knows too much.
"What did you do to Marcus to fill him with this much ire?" Uriah asks. "Or is he as much of a bastard as he seems?"
"He is a bastard."
"Fucking with you for the sport of it?"
"Something like that."
He shakes his head. "Distasteful." The water steams. He pours it over his leaves.
It makes me think of Tris, but then what doesn't?
"I don't blame you for playing the game. Sometimes, it's fun to see if you can win." He sets the electric kettle back in its spot.
I nod as if that's my only reason.
"Sometimes though... sometimes it's better to walk away. Sometimes that's the only way to win."
"I'll keep that in mind." I don't need the game theory lecture. But I know he means well.
"Look at us. Two rich men fixing beverages for themselves. Things change every day."
"They do."
"If you need my help..." He holds up his cup. "Or another helicopter ride."
"Thank you." The words are awkward on my tongue. I don't offer anyone gratitude. Certainly not someone as cocky as Ian.
But he's right about one thing, I'm not selling this story about a whirlwind romance. I need to change that. And I know how.
And I do need his help. "Actually, there is something."
He raises a brow. "I'm listening."
It's not going to be pretty, but it's going to work.
It has to.