The Takeover (The Miles High Club #2)(30)

I think those two lines just summed up the entirety of Tristan Miles.

I can kid myself all I want about being in charge.

We both know I’m not.





Tristan

We’re in a busy and bustling restaurant. It’s late, after one o’clock in the morning, and we are sitting side by side at the bar.

The mood of the place is loud and jovial, and music is piped throughout the space.

We’ve had dinner, and I haven’t laughed this much since I don’t know when.





Claire Anderson is fucking hilarious.


She’s tipsy and relaxing more and more by the minute. I like her like this. I mean, I like her anyway, but she is at her best when her defenses are down.

She’s wearing a fitted black dress with spaghetti straps and stilettoes. Her thick shoulder-length dark hair is down, and she’s wearing minimal makeup.

She has no idea how fucking sexy she is.

It’s the weirdest thing—she’s everything that I’ve never found attractive before.

And I don’t even know what it is about her, but I find myself hanging on her every word.

“Tell me.” She smiles as she takes my hand in hers. “How are you still single?”

I smile and pick up our hands and bring them to my mouth. I kiss hers and then shrug.

“How old are you?” She frowns.

“How old do you want me to be?”

“You only say that if you’re a prostitute.”

I widen my eyes. “How do you know I’m not? How do you know that Marley hasn’t paid me to seduce you?”

Her lips twist as she fights a smile. “How much is she paying you?”

“There isn’t enough money in the world.” I smirk into my glass as I take a sip. “Keeping you satisfied is a dirty job. I bit off more than I can chew. I’m demanding a pay raise.”

The woman at the bar beside us looks at me and then turns to the bar, as if revolted.

My eyes widen. She heard me. Claire tips her head back and laughs out loud.

I tap the woman on the arm. “She’s not paying me,” I whisper. “I’m seducing her for free.” I cross my fingers on my chest. “And I’m not chewing. It’s all licking.”

Claire really loses it and laughs hard, and I find myself laughing too.

I fall serious and watch her laugh for a moment, because what I told the woman is not even true.

Claire Anderson is seducing me.

“Answer my question,” she says.

“I’m thirty-four.”

“And you’re still single?” She frowns as she contemplates my age. “How is that possible?”

I sip my drink. “I don’t know.” I shrug. “I’ve had four serious relationships over the course of time.”

“And they didn’t work out?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“You’re very nosy, Anderson.”

She giggles. “I know. You ask me a question next.”

I smile and clink my glass with hers. “I’ll start thinking of one now.” I narrow my eyes, as if concentrating.

“Well?” she prompts me. “Answer my question first.”

How do I say this . . . I’m fucked up, and something is wrong with me?

That I’ve been searching for something for years, but I have no idea what it actually is?

Just tell her the easy version.

“I don’t know, to be honest. The girls I went out with were all beautiful—perfect, actually.” She watches me intently. “But when push came to shove, I didn’t want to fight for it.”

“Meaning what?”

“Well, as history repeats, I seem to have a time limit for relationships.” I smile at her fascination. “Like a use-by date.”

“A use-by date,” she scoffs. “What does that mean? How many times you have sex with them?”

I laugh at the double meaning. “No, not that . . . for God’s sake.”

She puts her hand on my thigh.

“I seem to meet someone, and then we fall into a routine and . . .” I pause.

“What?”

“She falls in love with me and wants to move in and have marriage and babies, and I, for some reason, find something wrong with her and begin to back off.”





She listens intently.


“I don’t know what it is.” I sip my drink. “I don’t know why I’m like this. The second girlfriend I had was probably the one. I adored her. Was sad for years when we broke up.”

“But you didn’t love her?”

“I don’t know.” I put my hand on top of hers on my leg.

“So she left you?”

“No. I left her.”

“But if you were sad for years about it, why didn’t you just go back to her?”

“I didn’t want to.”

She frowns as she watches me.

“I mean, what is love?” I bite my bottom lip as I think; how did we get onto this deep subject? “I mean, define being in love with someone, Anderson. Because I can’t; for the life of me I can’t.”

“Well.” She thinks for a moment. “I think it’s just like having a best friend who you want to fuck.”