Page 2 of Mr. Monroe

“Do you think she has some kind of financial kink?”

“No idea, but it wouldn’t surprise me.” He groaned, and I heard his chair creak as he leaned back. I wouldn’t be surprised if he were putting his feet up on his immaculate wooden desk.

“Listen,” he said, “can you pull up the financials on Liedenhaus? We need a closer look at how they were bleeding money before we decided to acquire them.”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” I said, pulling up the financials and beginning to draft the email in question, running the encryption to ensure that none of the delicate financial information leaked. It was a firm policy that any time we sent e-communication with sensitive information, it was encrypted. “Do you want to meet at the office to debrief about London?”

“No. Alex and Bree are having a barbecue, so come straight there, all right? Wendy should’ve gotten back to us by then anyway, so it’ll all be figured out.”

I did my best to ignore the familiar swooping in my stomach at the notion of who I’d be seeing at the friend’s house whose job I’d taken over. “They’re having a barbecue?”

“Yep, something for the twins. Don’t worry, it’s nothing formal, but their godparents will definitely be there, Sexy Spence.”

I groaned when I practically heard the smile in his voice at the nickname that Natalia Hoover had given me years ago at the time of our unfortunate hookup.

I’d not thought about Nat since I ran into her at Cornerstones in Los Angeles after she’d given an ear full to Polly Koker. I’d dismissed images of her svelte figure and any passionate ideas about her directly after her sexy ass left my presence that night.

Natalia was hot, to be sure, but a catch I wasn’t willing to exhaust myself over. She had her ways, and I had mine. It was unfortunate because I’d like a second try at proving myself to her in bed, but those weren’t points I cared to score for my confidence. I didn’t need to prove shit to Nat or anyone lucky enough to land my ass in bed. So, of course, it irritated me when anyone had to bring up my failures between the sheets, even as a joke that should be dead and buried by now.

“Do you have to—”

“Yes,” Jim said, not letting me finish. “I’ve had to ever since I first heard about your fuck up in bed.”

“I’m probably not going to make it,” I answered truthfully, not wanting to take risks with my ego around the stunning woman. I did fine with quick interactions and small talk, which made it easy to dismiss any fantasies. But hanging at some backyard barbeque with her sexy ass, likely wearing a bikini? I’d be fucked all day. That was a fact, and I wasn’t about to put myself in a vulnerable position like that.

“Before you try to weasel out of this, don’t. We’re all going to be there, and the kids have been told about it already, so just be a fucking adult. You and Nat need to find a way past this game you’re both playing.”

“There are no games between her and me, I assure you of that,” I answered, feeling my dick throbbing at the image that flashed into my head just now of Nat in a skimpy bikini. “I’m not going.”

“You need to level with me. What does this woman have over you? I know it’s not your fucking dignity. So, as one of your best friends, tell me what she’s done to make you dodge her and her dodge you. I only know this stupid nickname, and I still have no idea what the hell it means.”

“If you have to fucking know, I walked in the same bridal party as her.” And it had taken everything in me not to continuously look over my shoulder to stare at her stunning body draped in swaths of emerald green silk, making me think of the curves I’d seen and touched only once, too briefly. And, like a fucking idiot, I’d pulled out of her in the middle of our mind-blowing sex to pick up a business call?

Jesus. Now that I was resurrecting this shit, I had to admit I could be a fucking dumbass. But I’d especially been a dumbass who couldn’t have predicted that the woman’s best friend would melt the only heart colder and deader than mine—that of one of my best friends, Alex Grayson. If Natalia Hoover weren’t best friends with Alex’s wife, I probably would never have seen the woman again.

“And that’s how you got this name?” he asked, confused.

“Yep,” I wasn’t giving this shit up.

I’d dwelt on this shit for too long in the last ten minutes. It was time to shut this door and move on to a better subject.

“Then you won’t have a problem showing up, that is, unless the woman is mocking you or something?”

Either Jim was fucking with me, or he really didn’t know. His wife and all those women talk, and I knew Nat wasn’t keeping jack shit a secret.

Who gives a fuck? I’m done with this conversation and revisiting failures in my past.

Time to concede and just show up so Jim will shut up, and I can get back to this damn email.

“Okay,” I checked the Patek Phillipe watch that had belonged to my father, which I always wore, “I’ll see you at Alex and Bree’s house in five hours. I’m tired as fuck and jet lagged, but whatever, right?”

“Make sure you get that beauty sleep, Sexy Spence.”

“Right after I send the email you just put my ass to work on, Jimbo?”

“See you there. We’ll discuss additional details about London while everyone is entertaining themselves.”

“And I’ll be entertained as I watch Avery kick your ass for working at a family shin-dig.”

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