Dirty Playboy - Alex Wolf Page 0,64

don’t have to like it. Maybe it’s because I’m exhausted. Last night, I staked out a couple low-level employees at Pacific Imports, the company Wells Covington is invested in. Found them at a bar and bought them drinks until they were hammered, pretended to be wasted, then got some interesting information out of them. I had to stay up all night and document every single thing with primary sources because Decker is anal as fuck, even if he trusts me. It took forever.

The only reason he still trusts me is because Mary lied for me. I’m not sure how to process that as I walk up the stairs to her apartment. On one hand, it shows me how much she wants to protect me. On the other, it means the things I’ve done have put her at risk. She shouldn’t be involved. It’s just another example of everything I’ve been through coming back to bite me in the ass.

My legs grow heavier with each step toward her door. I’m taking Mary to Abigail and Dexter’s engagement party. It shouldn’t feel different, but it does. Maybe it’s because I haven’t seen her in several days. Maybe it’s because this is the first work event we’re attending where we’re together as a couple. I have no fucking clue what’s going to happen, but the fact I’m about to see Mary overshadows all of it. It’s the only thing that gives me hope, lightens my heart a little.

The second she opens the door I basically plow into her and almost knock her down. We laugh and kiss and hug and all the things you do when you’ve missed someone like crazy then see their face again.

I want to skip the damn party and take her straight to her bedroom. In fact, I make an attempt to do just that.

Mary shoves me away from her. “Later. We have to go.”

I shrug. “Do we though?”

She smacks me in the chest. “Yes. It’s non-negotiable.”

I follow behind her into the hallway. “Fine.”

We share several glances on the way through her building, and fuck, I’ve missed the way she looks at me. It can’t be captured on a screen from a thousand miles away. Every time I see it, I know she’s missed me just as bad as I’ve missed her.

The conversation on the walk to the car and the drive to the party is pretty standard. Catching up on things, what happened at work. It’s exactly what I don’t want to talk about.

I have to be vague, do anything to deflect, despite the fact it won’t work. She’s asking questions about what I was doing, and I won’t lie. The second I say the name Wells Covington, I know it’s a mistake, but one I have to make. There’s no way around it.

Fortunately, I stall long enough for us to pull up to the Yacht Club before she can ask for more information. What is it with these fucking brothers and this glorified boat house? Are they sailors or some shit? I’ve never seen any of them on a boat and yet they all want to get married here.

I hop out and open Mary’s door for her. We run into Penn Hargrove on the way in. He has some fake plastic blonde on his arm, which is understandable. He’s best friends with Donavan and came from Bennett Cooper’s firm in Manhattan. He works with non-profit shit at the firm now.

“Penn.” I give him a nod as we walk up.

“Hey, guys. This is…” He blinks a few times, like his mind just erased itself.

Classic. He doesn’t even know her name. Mary looks like she wants to smack me in the chest, because I’m holding back a laugh. Whatever, he’ll probably still nail her tonight. I know how these guys operate.

“My date.” He finally recovers.

“Nice to meet you.” Mary holds out a hand and the girl shakes it.

She doesn’t even bother to tell us her name. Mary, feeling bad because she’s a good person, at least I’m assuming, takes the girl to the side and starts a conversation away from us.

Penn stands there, eyeing me up and down. “Something’s different between you and her.”

“Damn right it is.”

“So, you and Mary?” His eyes widen a little, and he grins right at me.

I stare right back at him to let him know Mary’s mine and only mine, and nobody else better so much as sneeze in her direction. “A hundred percent.”

Penn shakes his head in derision. “When will all you motherfuckers