Page 30 of The Billionaire's Fake Wife
"Huh?" I tilt my chin up, "You’re a priest, not a mind reader."
"You’re a cut-throat entrepreneur, not someone who’s the best judge of character."
"Present company proves your point accurately." I lower my brows.
Edward chuckles, pats my shoulder, "Good to see you too, Brother."
"Now that you pussies have the touchy-feely stuff out of the way, can we get down to business?"
A massive monster of a man prowls through the entrance.
His blonde beard catches the sunlight, the sparkle rivaled by the golden brown of his hair, and his tan that seems to clothe him in a perpetual amber glow.
I groan, "Don’t recall inviting you here, Arpad."
"Which is why this is the place I need to be."
"Right, are we starting or what?" Weston asks from his perch by the window.
"Is this a reunion?" Damian drawls, then bounces his ball on the floor of the office.
"If all of our meetings are going to be such a waste of time, count me out." Saint swerves past me and heads for the door.
The fuck?Asshole needs special treatment, apparently. He’s not getting any from me.
"You walk out of here, Saint, and I promise I'll cut you out of future deals."
He takes another step.
"You’re going to regret it."
He twists his head and shoots me a look, "I regret being here already."
"Get your arse in gear, you tosser."
Saint turns on Arpad, who merely stabs his thumb in the direction of the room. "Surely, you want to find out what he’s up to? If you miss this, your curiosity is going to haunt you unless you commit industrial espionage and break down his plan of action."
"Hmm." Saint leans his hip against the door frame.
"Right." I pivot, then walk into the room, "Sit down everyone. Didn’t call you here to mess with your time."
"Yeah, it’d better be worth it." Saint growls.
I glare at him.
He smirks. "Go on then."
"How long has it been since you had a decent night’s sleep, huh?"
His features close. "What’s it to you?"
I glance at the doc, "And you Weston, have you spent a single day not wondering about what happened to the disaster we left behind that day?"
Silence descends on the room. I toss my head. Figures. They are like me—larger than life, big egos, razor sharp minds, the best in their fields… Yet here we were, in search of that one thing that has eluded us since the incident that changed us all.
I fix my gaze on Edward, "How many times a day do you ask the Lord to forgive you for your sins?"
Edward’s jaw firms. "Rhetorical questions, Sinner?"
