The Punk and the Plaything (When Rivals Play #3) - B.B. Reid Page 0,24

wasn’t in a much better mood than Four, so I wouldn’t be getting any of my usual enjoyment from dropping bombs. Setting down my fork full of eggs, I held her troubled gaze. “Because he’s living there now.” I waited to see how she’d handle the news before I gave her the rest. “Unc kicked him out yesterday.”

I went back to eating, hoping she wouldn’t demand answers that Ever should give himself. Frankly, if it didn’t concern Bee, it didn’t concern me. It seemed selfish to think so, but avenging my broken heart kept my hands full, so… what could I do?

Four didn’t stick around, and I finished my food before heading up to get dressed. Uncle Thomas was expecting me for yet another damn meet and greet at company headquarters. I didn’t understand the demand. It would be years before I took control, but I suppose my uncle was unwilling to leave a single stone unturned.

On my way to the garage an hour later, I typed out a text as I did every morning.

Sleep well?

Pocketing my phone, I didn’t wait for a reply I knew would never come. I was pulling out of the garage minutes later when my cell whistled, indicating I had a text. Slamming on the brakes, I snatched it from my pocket and read the message.

Bee: Like a baby.

Before I could respond, a second text came through, and I felt like a kid in a candy store.

Bee: Disappointed?

Never. You were dreaming of me.

Bee: Was that a question?

I think the period makes it clear that it wasn’t. Were your panties soaked?

I watched the bubbles move until they stopped. Smirking, I threw my phone in the cup holder, knowing that I’d run her off. I’d just made it through the gates when my phone pinged. Foolishly, I kept going as I glanced at the screen.

Bee: I wasn’t wearing any.

I swerved, nearly taking out the fucking mailbox before I slammed on the brakes and threw the Jeep into park. I stabbed at the screen. Two words were all I could manage.

Show me.

As far as I was concerned, I needed pictures, or it didn’t happen. I ran my hand down my face as I watched those fucking bubbles appear and disappear for two minutes straight.

Bee: You’re too late. I’m already dressed for school.

She was toying with me. I knew this, but I also couldn’t help myself. Before I could rethink it, I was calling her. It rang and rang, and just when voicemail was ready to pick up, I heard her voice, hesitant yet full of humor.

“Jameson.”

“Maybe you didn’t understand me,” I snapped, getting right to it. “Pull down that lacy thong I know you’re wearing and show me.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then I’ll do it myself.” She was quiet for a while, and my eyes narrowed as my thoughts took a turn down a wild road. “But you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Goodbye, Jameson.”

The line beeped, indicating she’d hung up, and I chuckled, knowing that my afternoon was looking up. I walked into the tower, which held NaMara’s headquarters, with an extra pep in my step and whistled as I made my way to the fortieth floor. My uncle kept the entire floor for himself and a few other executives. Christina, his assistant, was already there to greet me, telling me he was expecting me, and I flirted a bit before knocking on my uncle’s office door.

I could hear shuffling on the other side, but it was a few minutes before my uncle’s gruff voice called out. Hesitantly, I entered, and when I saw my uncle’s tense expression, I stopped short. It wasn’t until I noticed the man lounging against the wall behind him that I realized why and wondered what I’d just walked in on.

“Uncle?”

“Come in, boy. Don’t just stand there.”

Glancing once more at Sean, I shut the door behind me and took a seat. My gaze traveled back and forth between the two men. Something was definitely up.

“You look like you have something on your mind,” Sean teased.

Ignoring him, I addressed my uncle. “You knew he was alive?” I’d been practicing all night how I’d break the news that his so-called friend had faked his death. Only to find that he’d known all along.

“It’s complicated,” he said, making me scoff. Why were adults always using that excuse?

“As complicated as him fucking Aunt Evelyn?” I wasn’t entirely sure what I’d walked in on yesterday, either, but they’d been up to something. I’ve had more than my share to know