Page 141 of Money Reigns
I should be staring at everything. Maybe joining the mile-high club with War. But it’s awkward because of who’s sitting across from me.
Wesley.
AndWilder.
Wilder catches me looking and smirks, like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. I force a polite smile. “I didn’t know you flew back in from California.”
“Yeah,” he says easily. “Just last night. With Brody.”
Warren scoffs beside me. Low. Sharp.
“Brody’s back?” I ask, before I can stop myself.
Warren’s hand finds mine, grips tight. A warning.
“Yup,” Wilder drawls, eyes glinting. “Figured why not fly with my big bros since we’re taking a family trip to Paris? Didn’t know we could bring our girlfriends.”
“You have a girlfriend?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“Nope.” He grins, wolfish.
“Wilder.” Wesley’s tone is flat. “Cut it out.”
Wilder leans back like a cat who got the cream. “Where’s Evie Mitchell, hmm? Wesley?”
“Shut up, Wilder.”
My head jerks toward Wesley. “You’re dating Evangeline Mitchell? She beat me out for a job with Santo Amato.”
Warren stiffens instantly. His eyes cut to me, sharp enough to slice. “You applied to work forhim?”
I nod slowly. “Yeah. I was late for the interview, though, so… I didn’t get it.”
“Good.” His jaw flexes. “Don’t ever mention that bastard’s name again.”
Wilder chuckles. Wesley shakes his head like this is normal family turbulence.
“So why didn’t you bring Evie?” I ask, softer this time.
Wesley exhales hard. “I’m not dating Evie. Yet. It’s—we will. Just… not right now.”
“Aww, Wesley.” Wilder smirks. “Still saving yourself for marriage?”
“Shut the fuck up, Wilder.”
“Are you?” The question slips out of me before I can think better of it.
“No!” Wesley’s voice is sharp, defensive.
Wilder bursts out laughing, the sound filling the cabin. Even Warren’s mouth curves, a rare crack in his armor.
“No,” Wesley mutters again, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I just don’t fuck anything that moves like they do.”
The words hang in the air, heavier than the jet itself.
He pushes up from his seat before I can even process the sting, muttering something about needing a drink.
His footsteps fade toward the bar at the back of the plane, leaving behind a silence that feels sharp. Exposed. Too much.
