Briggs - A Carolina Reapers Nove - Samantha Whiskey Page 0,5

blowing out a breath. “But I had thought he’d at least be…cordial. I mean, it was four years ago. And he’s doing amazing on the Reapers…”

“It’s been four years for you too, babe,” Grace said. “And you’re not exactly over it either.”

“Oh, I’m so over it,” I snapped. “You should’ve seen him—”

“Is he still as hot?” she cut me off.

“Hotter,” I grumbled. He’d grown even more into the man he’d been four years ago, if that was possible. His muscles were more defined, and new ink decorated the skin around his neck, his collarbone, and probably lower too. I hated how badly I wanted to know if he had art sprawled across his chest or if he’d left it bare. I hated that the second I’d seen him last night, I was that young girl all over again—couldn’t breathe around my racing heart, couldn’t think around the sparks zinging across my skin.

“But that’s not the point,” I hurried to add. “He was furious to find out I was behind the endorsement. You would’ve thought Detroit had offered him the damn deal.”

Grace chuckled at the mention of the Reapers’ rivals offering him an endorsement deal. “Are you going to let him out of the deal?”

“He signed the contract,” I said, but even I could hear the defeat in my voice.

“True,” she said, never one to judge. “You could absolutely hold him to it.”

I could. He was bound by so many legal terms he’d never find a loophole—not because of me, but because my lawyers were just that damn good. They swung the deal to favor him monetarily but made sure myself and the company were protected through and through.

“Or,” Grace offered. “You could let him out of the deal and finally forgive yourself for something that wasn’t your fault to begin with.”

“It was, though,” I almost whispered. She knew every detail of that night and the events that followed after. I’d spilled the whole story over margaritas one night, and while it had felt great to confess then, it didn’t do anything to cleanse the guilt that had never stopped trying to suffocate me.

“Babe,” Grace groaned. “How many times must we go over this? You thought he knew you were a month shy of eighteen. You had no idea your brother would react the way he did. It’s. Not. Your. Fault. He. Got. Traded. Briggs didn’t have to kiss you—”

“Didn’t he?” I teased, trying like hell to switch my mood. “I’m pretty irresistible.”

Grace snorted. “Sure, let’s go with that.”

We both shared a laugh, but mine ended on kind of a whine. “What am I going to do? What’s the right play?” When I purchased Lusso, it wasn’t about Cormac. It was about applying my design knowledge with my business savvy and finally making something for myself. Something not connected to my family, or my brother or anyone else. Just mine.

And then, when we started looking for the face of the new line, I couldn’t see anyone but Cormac. I hadn’t followed his career religiously or anything, but I’d typed his name into Google a time or two—usually after a few glasses of wine on a late night.

The second I envisioned him as the star of Lusso…it fit. It felt right. I thought it would be my way to apologize for the past, to make amends, and quite possibly earn a friend in the process.

I’d been a fool.

Of course, he’d hate me. Blame me.

Of course, he’d want nothing to do with me.

Of course, he’d still see me as that seventeen-year-old girl with stardust in her eyes at the sight of him.

“Only you can figure that out,” Grace said.

“Thanks for your help,” I teased.

“Hey, you know what I’d do if I were in your shoes,” she said.

I laughed, and the headache flared to life from the motion. “Offering him a sex contract was so not an option. This isn’t Fifty Shades.”

“You are the CEO of a company,” she said. “And you have unlimited funds. You even rock the power suit like no one’s business. If anyone can pull off a Mr. Grey, it’s you.”

I laughed harder. “Stop, you’re making the headache worse,” I said through my giggles.

“Well, it would’ve been way more interesting than just having him take some pictures. Despite how good we both know he’ll look.”

“At least I’m certain of that,” I said, shaking my head. “He was livid, though. I don’t know how I can hold him to it.”

“Maybe he thinks you have the wrong intentions,” she said. “Like this