Page 41 of The Billionaire & the Virgin Chef
Dylan
Time is ticking away.
A lot of fuckingtime.
Over two years’worth.
If I have to attend another one of my friends’ weddings, engagement parties or baby showers, I’m going to punchsomething.
Everyone around me is moving on with their lives. Almost everyone. Caleb and Foster are still getting their cocks wet from every willing single female around town. But besides them, my circle of friends is settling down and starting families. Even my sister, Vanessa toned down her wild side and is seeing oneguy.
I, on the other hand, have been engaged for over two years. I got on the relationship train, but the train hasn’t left the station. We’re stuck. Emily is, and that means I amtoo.
A part of me blames myself for where we are now. It’s karma. Before Emily, I fucked around so damn much, sleeping with every woman in sight while being the most noncommittal son of a bitch this city has ever seen. Then Emily came into my life, and I straightened out my shit. Except I’m ready to take the nextstep.
Our lives have lined up perfectly. Business is booming for Knights Capital. Emily’s restaurant is a hit, and she’s about to expand her catering business. We spend busy days doing what we love, and long night satisfying each other’s every craving. The sex has never been better. Fuck, even my mother has come around to accept that she’ll have a daughter-in-law soon. She stopped giving me grief the second she put her support behind my sister, Vanessa’s not-so-fake boyfriend, Liam—the son of a former mafiaboss.
But it’s over two years later. Emily and I are stillengaged.
We haven’t set a weddingdate.
The next step is as elusive as aunicorn.
It’s as though the universe is telling me this is as far as I’ll make it to having my own family unit. That I took too long to get a fuckingclue.
There’s also the fact that after all this time I’ve come up short in the search for Emily’s sister. It’s at the crux of the dead stop in our relationship. Following cold trails, skirting the law and sometimes outright breaking it by gaining unauthorized access to databases, hiring private investigators to shake a few trees and look under rocks haven’t yielded anyresults.
Not one fuckingthing.
The temptation to apply a little pressure on Emily is growing, but I haven’t gotten that desperate yet. She’s still fragile. That raw and emotional piece of her heart still lingers. We’ve gone over it too many times to count, and I know if I raise it again, it’ll break what we have beyondrepair.
She can’t move on without knowing. She needs closure with Joy, and I respect my fiancée’s judgment. Even if this bump in the road is frustrating asfuck.
Every now and again, I force myself to have a reality check. Big picture, our lives together is good. Great. I just have to keep reminding myself ofthat.
* * *
Two nightsbefore Jackson and Dahlia’s wedding in the Hamptons, I receive a text from Lewis Renforth, one of my hacker buddies. He’s probably the most paranoid man I know. His message is encrypted, but the subject line grabs my attention. It reads,Progress on ProjectSIL.
Lewis came up with that name. Progress Sister-in-Law.
Finally, an update aboutJoy.
Emily’s wearing two hats for this wedding. She’s not only the maid of honor, but she’s also catering the event. The timing couldn’t be worse, but in a way, if this update doesn’t lead anywhere, at least I can deal with it while she has her handsfull.
I won’t worry her with the details unless it’s goodnews.
