who boost cars don't steal the driver too.”
I nod, conceding his point. “This is true.” I smile, buckling up and turning to look out the window as he pulls away from the curb. Still, his words don’t stop me from feeling like an impostor.
“I need to go to the bank and the DMV. All the fun stuff,” I warn him, making him chuckle.
“I tell you what, call me when you have finished, and I’ll bring you a coffee and a doughnut.”
“You know what, Davis, I think you are going to be my new best friend,” I inform him with a beaming smile.
Twenty
Asher
Surprisingly, the day passes quickly, even though my mind doesn't stray far from my wife. It helps that Davis keeps texting to keep me updated.
Looking down at the hustle and bustle of the city below, I wait as Gregory, the lead lawyer on Peterson’s team, waffles on and on. I swear I hear Graham stifle a snort at one point. These guys are treating us like we’re newbies, fresh-faced and green in all things business, when the truth is, we likely know ten times more than they do.
“Mr. Peterson just wants to make sure he chooses the right candidate,” Gregory prattles on.
“Yes, I understand that, Gregory, and you know our offer is more than generous. We don't want to buy this resort to tear it apart. We want to keep the integrity of it safe. It’s already a flagship property. We just want to enhance it a little,” I tell them, stroking their egos.
“Is there any reason Peterson himself isn't in on this call?” Graham asks something I had wondered myself.
“He’s waiting until all potential buyers have been shortlisted. You wouldn't believe the amount of interest the resort has generated. Besides, this is what Mr. Peterson hired us for. Now back to the subject at hand, your proposal looks fine, ticks all the boxes, so to say, but there has been little to no mention of your private lives." Gregory stops talking and lets us fill in the blanks for him.
“I'm engaged with a child on the way and a daughter already, Peterson knows this. He has met my fiancée on many occasions,” Graham answers wryly.
“And you, Mr. Sloan?” Is it my imagination, or does the fucker sound smug all of a sudden? I'm sure he thinks he has me all figured out, but he has no fucking clue.
“I'm happily married and have been for a little over a year now,” I inform them, matter-of-factly.
My words are met with absolute silence, so much so I check the screen to make sure the call hasn't dropped.
“You do realize you'll have to provide documentation to back up this claim?” Gregory's sharp voice announces.
“Yes, that won't be a problem. I have the marriage certificate here. Is there anything else you need?” I question, keeping my voice civil. Inside, I’m thinking checkmate, motherfucker.
He splutters for a second. I can't tell if it's with shock or indignation.
“Where does your wife reside?” he asks haughtily.
“With me at our penthouse apartment. Where the hell else would my wife live except with me?” I answer rhetorically and this time Graham doesn't even try to hold back his snort of laughter.
“What I meant to say is that your marriage has been kept hush-hush. To the best of my knowledge, it's not information the public is aware of.”
“We are a very private couple. My wife isn't into being in the spotlight, and I like to keep my wife happy. If that means I attend the odd gala alone, so be it,” I tell him firmly.
“Well, yes, that's fine, but I'm sure Mr. Peterson would like to meet your wife at some point.” This guy has no need to inform me of that fact, it is something I’m well aware of.
“I'm sure he will, and that's fine. Just let us know when and where, and we'll happily be there.” Okay, maybe I'm laying it on a bit thick now.
“Okay then, I have everything I need for now. Your application is being processed. Please forward your marriage certificate to my office by the end of the day. If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen.”
Gregory pulls out of the conference call, which causes a snowball effect of people leaving until only Graham and I remain on the line.
“Nicely played, asshole,” Graham drawls, making me chuckle as I loosen my tie and sit back in my chair.
“Yeah, yeah, I'm awesome, admit it.”
“I like to keep my wife happy,” he mocks, trying to emulate my voice.
“Fuck