by Harlow James
“Wesley!”
I turn to see Waverly sauntering toward her brother, wearing a sky blue floor length gown that shines against her tan skin and bright blonde hair.
“Waverly.” His tone speaks of their close relationship as he intercepts his sister in a hug.
“You look dashing, big brother.”
“And you look stunning, Wave. How’s it going?”
“Oh, you know. School is kicking my butt, but it’s nice to almost be done, you know?”
“I understand. Shayla is finishing up as well this semester,” he replies and then dips his eyes to me. “Shayla, you remember my little sister, Waverly, right?”
I stand on shaky legs, but find my balance before reaching out to shake her hand. “Yes. Good to see you again.”
Waverly slaps my hand away and then pulls me in for a hug. “None of that. I’m a hugger.” She squeezes me tightly and then releases me to survey my appearance. “Damn, you clean up nice, coffee girl.”
I can’t help but laugh as Wes smiles as the two of us wistfully. “That she does.”
“I love the classic Hollywood vibe you have going on. Really goes with the theme of the night.”
“Uh, thank you. I wish I could take credit for it, but Wes had a couple of girls help me get ready,” I say, glaring at him while he returns the look on a grin.
“I can’t remember the last time I did my own hair and make-up,” Waverly says with an eye roll. “It’s part of the life, so get used to it.”
Yeah, not sure that I will nor do I want to.
“Have you seen Mom and Dad?” Waverly turns to Wes, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“No. I don’t think they’ve arrived yet.”
“Well, Dad does like to make a fashionably late entrance. Shayla, I don’t know about you, but I need to powder my nose. Girls’ trip to the bathroom?”
I glance to Wes as he flashes me a wink and a small nod, somehow telling me that I shouldn’t be scared of Waverly. And honestly, I’m not. It’s just that being alone with his sister is a big deal that I didn’t anticipate crossing off tonight.
“Go. I need to make my rounds and talk to people anyway.” He kisses me on the cheek and then looks at his sister. “Be nice. I don’t need you scaring my girlfriend off.”
Waverly’s eyebrows pop up and her smile widens. “Girlfriend, huh? You move fast big brother.”
“Only when I know what I want,” he declares confidently and then kisses me on lips chastely this time. “See you in a bit.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her,” Waverly replies on a wink and then links our elbows together as we walk toward the women’s restroom, the two of us striding together across the room and drawing attention as we exit. Once we’re inside the bathroom and place our small purses on the counter in front of the mirror, I can see the excitement on her face.
Waverly starts digging in her purse for her lipstick while casually throwing her eyes my way in the mirror. “So you’re finishing up school this semester as well?”
“Yes. It’s taken me a lot longer than normal, but at least I’m finishing.”
“What is your degree in?”
I pat my cheek with the pad of my compact as I glance at her. “Sociology. People fascinate me. I’m not sure what I’m going to do with it, but at least I’ll have the piece of paper.”
Waverly locates her lipstick and takes the cap off. “Exactly. My parents made me take a gap year after high school so I could travel a bit, but that ended up being the same year my grandfather died and everything got crazy with the company and I postponed another semester. It’s taken me a year longer than most as well, so I understand feeling like you’re behind. But like you said, the important thing is to finish.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-four. You?”
“Twenty-six.”
“Nice. So, now you’re my brother’s girlfriend, huh? When did that happen?”
I glance at my phone in my purse while huffing sarcastically. “About an hour ago.”
She laughs and then places her lipstick on her lips, dragging the rose hue across her mouth. “Doesn’t surprise me,” she says confidently with her mouth stretched open.
“Why do you say that?”
She places the cap on the tube and deposits it back in her purse before turning to face me. “Because I could tell how he felt about you that day I visited him in Santa Barbara.”
“Really?”
She nods assuringly. “My brother hasn’t dated in years, Shayla. He has his reasons, which I’ll let him tell you about since it’s not my place, but I could tell by the way he looked at you that he was a goner.” A surge of adrenaline runs through me as I listen for more and let my smile takeover. “Just be patient with him.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that? First Grace, now you.”
She clasps her hand on my shoulder. “I love my brother, but he doesn’t believe he deserves happiness. He’s convinced he’s meant to be alone because he has a few scars, but everyone is human, you know? And even though he’s been able to maintain business relationships flawlessly, personal relationships have always been difficult for him.”
“Okay,” I reply, not really sure what to do with that information.
“Just the fact that he put a label on what you two are though speaks volumes. Don’t take it lightly, or for granted.”
I swallow hard. “Thank you for that. I guess I still can’t believe that he wants me.”
She turns back to face the mirror, fluffing her hair. “I can see that—billionaire with a past falls for the ordinary girl. But who knows, maybe this is one of those real-life fairytale stories.” She winks at me again and then grabs her purse as she prepares to exit. “You coming?”
“Uh, yeah. I think I’m going to pee first though. I’ll meet you back out there. Thanks, Waverly.”
“Of course. We should hangout sometime soon, you know? Get to know each other a little better …”
“I’d love that.”
“Excellent.” She spins on her heels and then leaves the restroom, but the destruction she inflicted on my mind still lingers after she’s gone.
Billionaire with a past? I can’t help but wonder to what extent did she mean?
I understand that everyone has a story, but I realize that I don’t know much about Wes’s. I know bits and pieces that he’s shared, and I suppose that now that we’re together, he’ll divulge more, but Waverly’s comment alluded to something big, something that I can’t help but feel might cause more of a stir than him showing up with a woman on his arm tonight. And then my thoughts veer back to that phone call he got in the limo on the way here. Who is Lydia? And if she’s a business associate or client or whatever, why would she be calling Wes at almost eight o’clock on a Friday night? And why would he be meeting her on a Sunday?
Shaking off my thoughts and convincing myself that there will be time for those questions later, I lock myself in a stall so I can use the bathroom before returning to face the scrutiny of more people this evening.
As I carefully lift the fabric of my dress to sit on the toilet, I hear the clicks of heels on the tile floor as more than one woman enters the restroom. Bending forward, I make out two pairs of heels standing in front of the mirror.
“Did you see her?” One of the women asks.
“Yes. Who is she?” The other one replies.
“I don’t know, but I was surprised to see him show up with anyone at all.”
“Right? That man hasn’t brought a woman to an event in years, and all of a sudden he appears with one. Hasn’t he been out of town lately too?”
“I swore he was gay since it’s been so long, but that wouldn’t make sense given his past, you know?”
I stay perfectly still as I strain to hear what one of the women will say next.
“Well, the last one could have just been a beard, you know? The woman used to cover up his hidden sexuality.”
One of
the women laughs. “Yeah, but that doesn’t explain the one here with him tonight.”
The water turns on at a sink and then I hear the noise from the paper towel dispenser. “Well, whoever she is, she’s damn lucky. Although, she seems too plain for him. A man like Wes Morgan should be with someone more his equal, you know?”
“That’s what I can’t figure out either. He has his pick of any woman in the room, especially someone like you or me who understands the pressures of his life. What makes this one so special?”
The click of a tongue leads to her rebuttal. “She’s not. He’ll have his fun and move on to the next like all the men with money do. We’re indispensable, Miranda. But the goal is at least to fuck the man before he figures that out.”
Their heels click again on the tile, followed by the door shutting behind them. I release the breath I didn’t realize I was holding and then finish my business, moving to wash my hands as I stare at myself in the mirror. This evening just keeps getting more intense by the minute.
I find my way back out to the ballroom, scouring the space for Wes before finding him standing in a group of men, each decked in black and white tuxedos, clutching glasses in their hands.
But Wes stands out against them all—tall, handsome, confident—and mine. Regardless of what those women think, I have to trust in what I feel, in what Wes has told me and shown me with his words. I’m the exception, and it’s time I start believing it.
As if a steel wire sparking with electricity were binding us together, I follow a direct path to him across the room as his eyes meet mine and they track my movements. I stand up tall, press my shoulders back, and strut toward him with confidence despite the words that have threatened to tear me down already tonight. When I arrive at his feet, I look up at his soulful green eyes and then grasp the back of his neck and pull him to my lips, kissing him and claiming him in front of the men surrounding us, the women who are probably staring as well, and probably a few hundred more people in the vicinity.
Wes doesn’t miss a beat, encasing my hips in his strong palms, and meeting my tongue with every stroke I give his. If Wes can stake his claim to me tonight, well then surely I can do the same.
When we part, he stares down at me with a heat in his eyes that I’ve seen before, and it speaks of promises for what he’s going to do to me later.
“Gentlemen,” he says before clearing his throat and turning to face our audience as I grin from ear to ear, pleased with myself for taking control of the narrative. “This is Shayla Mitchel. Shayla, this is Byron, Frank, Seth, and you know Caleb, now.”
“Nice to meet you, gentlemen,” I say on a proud smile.
“That was quite the display of affection, Shayla,” the man who Wes addressed as Byron teases.
“Yes, well, Wes is quite the man. And I didn’t want any other women to question who he belongs to since everyone seems to have an opinion on the matter.” A few of the men chuckle as Wes gives me a quizzical look.
“I doubt they will after that.”
“I hope so.”
“Wesley,” another voice makes itself known behind us as a man that can only be described as an older version of Wes strides up to us, a glass of scotch tucked neatly in his hand.
“Dad.” I feel Wes tighten up next to me, so I offer a soothing caress of his forearm as reassurance.
“You’re too busy to say hello to your old man now?” he says on a sly smile.
“I didn’t know you were here. Shayla, this is my father, Paul Morgan. Dad, this is Shayla.”
I watch Paul’s eyes bounce up and down my body, recalling that the few times Wes has mentioned his father was mostly about how strained their relationship is since his grandfather left the business to Wes and not him.
“Well, aren’t you a beauty?”
“Where’s Mom?” Wes asks, bypassing his comment.
“Grabbing herself a drink and gossiping with the girls. The usual. So Shayla, where did you come from?”
“Excuse me?” I draw back as Wes grips me tighter.
“I met Shayla in Santa Barbara, Dad. We’re dating.”
I watch Paul’s nostrils flare as he brings his drink to his lips and drains the rest of the amber liquid. “I see. Wesley, can I speak to you in private,” he grates out between clenched teeth and I swear that his anger is directed toward me.
“Of course, but I have to make my speech shortly,” Wes replies as he rubs his hand up and down my arm.
“It won’t take long. Nice to see you, gentlemen. I hope you enjoy the evening. Make sure to empty your pockets for the cause,” Paul says with a gesture to the other men standing around us before walking away, assuming that Wes will follow.
“I’ll be right back,” Wes whispers in my ear.
“Are you in trouble or something?”
He chuckles and then kisses me softly. “I don’t get in trouble with my father. Remember, I’m his boss.” He winks and then guides me back to our table. “I shouldn’t be long and they’ll be serving the salad soon, so please get comfortable. I’ll have someone bring you another glass of champagne.”
“Okay.”
“By the way,” he says, lowering his voice so only the two of us can hear as we stand next to my chair. “That little display back there had me hard as a rock. You, claiming me like that? I can’t wait to show you just what I thought about it later.” The intensity of his voice has my core throbbing instantaneously.
“I’m anticipating you delivering on your promises.”
“Watching you moving in this dress, holding your head high—it’s such a fucking turn on, Shayla. You have no idea how animalistic you’re making me feel right now when I have to be calm and composed. You’re testing my restraint.”
“How about you in this tux, huh? You’re not exactly playing fair yourself, Mr. Billionaire.” I reach up and play with the collar of his jacket, gripping it tightly in my hands as I pull him closer to me.
His smirk grows as I watch him discretely adjust himself between us. “I need to go before I bend you over this table and really give the room something to talk about.”
“That would be quite the spectacle,” I reply jokingly.
Wes presses his lips to mine, offering me one smooth swipe of his tongue before growling and turning away from me, nodding to a few people as he leaves, and making me wish we weren’t here, but back in our bubble in Santa Barbara.
Although after tonight, that bubble is sure to be popped.
“I was told to bring champagne and company,” Waverly sings as she comes up to me from the side, closes the space between us, and hands me a flute full of bubbly liquid.
“Thank you.”
“Nonsense. I’m tired of making small talk anyway. At least this way I can talk with someone I actually want to while Wes and my father try not to kill each other.”
We take our seats as the wait staff starts to serve salads around the room. “They do seem to be pretty tense around each other.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” she replies nonchalantly.
And the truth is, no I don’t. In fact there’s a whole lot about Wes Morgan that I don’t know, but am starting to believe I need to discover.
Chapter 20
Wes
“I have a speech to make so you need to make this quick.” My father leads us into a much smaller conference room down the same hallway the ballroom is where the event is taking place.
“What on earth were you thinking bringing a woman here, let alone one from Santa Barbara?” he asks, throwing his hands in the air.
“Why does it matter?”
“Because now the press is going to search for answers as to who she is and where she’s from, which will only draw more attention as to why you’re up there to begin with.”
“People are going to find out about the facility eventually, Dad. You can’t avoid that.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose as he paces the room. “I know. And that was fine when that was the focus, Wes, bu
t now there’s more to be discovered, which means people will be digging for any and everything they can find.”
I sigh, knowing that on some level he’s right. “I understand your concern, but I think it will be fine.”
“Don’t forget that if this gets out, it could ruin you. Is that what you want? For this company to go up in flames because of your poor choices?”
His words strike a match of anger within my chest. “That’s calling the kettle black, isn’t it, Dad? Need I remind you the real reason why I’m there in the first place?” I arch a brow at him, intent on reminding him who really holds the cards. Perhaps being with Shayla and seeing her confidence earlier is making me feel more bold in handling my father right now.
“Don’t threaten me, Wes.”
“I’m not. I’m just making sure you remember that we both have things to lose here.” I take a deep breath and then move closer to him. “Shayla is not going to derail that, alright? As unexpected as she was, her presence is making me feel confident in my decision to go back. She’s… she’s like a serenity I didn’t know I needed. She’s putting everything into perspective.”
My father eyes me over his shoulder. “I understand that more than you know, son.” Suddenly his admission clicks and I fight to keep my heart rate under control. Perhaps my need to escape from the pressure of running this company is something my father and I can see eye to eye on. “But that feeling can be fleeting and cause you to forget everything you have to lose as well.”
I grip the back of the chair in front of me, warring with how to assure him that I have the situation under control. But the truth is, I don’t know that I do. I’d like to believe that I’ve done a decent job of keeping Shayla away from details that would pose questions, but then the call with Lydia in the limo races forward in my mind and suddenly, so does a bout of panic.
“I have it under control,” I assure him even though my confidence is wavering with each passing day.
“Don’t let me down, son. We have too much to lose.”
“I know.” And now I could lose Shayla in all of this too.
We exit the conference room and make our way back to the gala just in time for the director of Hope for Kids to race across the room to me in a panic. “Mr. Morgan, we’re ready for your speech.”
