The Takeover (The Miles High Club #2)(67)

“Hi.” I turn back to my computer, unsure what to say. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to take you out for lunch.”

I keep typing.

“Claire,” he asserts. “Look at me, please.”

I drag my eyes to meet his. The funny, flirty expression I’m used to has been replaced by one of new determination.

“Why would you want to take me out to lunch?” I ask.

He walks around to stand in front of me. He takes my hand and pulls me up out of my chair and into his arms. “Because I can’t fight this anymore. I can’t pretend that I don’t want you. Because I do.”

His body is hard and strong against mine, and as I stare up at him, I lose my ability to speak. He leans down and kisses me softly. His lips hover over mine.

“Tris,” I whisper.

“I’m sick of playing these stupid fucking games.”

“Such as?”

“Stop acting dumb, Anderson; it doesn’t suit you at all.” He tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear. “I don’t want you to go out with that Pilates fuckwit again.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you all to myself.”

“And yet you expect me to share?”

“No. I won’t see anyone else either.”

I stare at him for a moment as I try to keep up with the conversation. “Speak English, Tristan. What are you proposing?”

“Casual monogamy.”

“Casual monogamy?” I smirk. “Is that a thing?”

He pulls me close and bumps me with his hips. “We’ll make it a thing.”

“And may I ask how?”

“Well . . . I’ll only see you, and you’ll only see me.”

“I don’t know if I can do that.” I smile against his lips as he moves closer and kisses me.

“Too bad.” Our lips crash together as he holds my face in his hands. “I don’t have a choice in the matter, so we need to do this.”

“Why don’t you have a choice?” I ask.

“Because I only want you.”

I pull into the loading zone and give Fletcher a wave. He smiles as he sees me and runs over and jumps in. He’s carrying a suit bag and is rustling around and not closing the car door. “Hi,” I say as I put my indicator on. “Quick, I’m not allowed to pull in here.”

He slams the door, and I pull back out into the traffic. “Hi,” he replies.

“Hi.” I smile over at him and rub his leg. “Look at you, my big working boy.” I glance into the back seat. “What’s in the bag?”

“Oh.” He smiles proudly. “Tristan bought me a present.”

My eyes flick over to him in surprise. “What?”

“He said I’ve been working really hard, so he wanted to reward me.”

“Are you serious?”

He nods with a proud smirk.

“Fletch, I’m so proud of you for trying so hard.” My eyes swing to the back seat. “What is it?”

“A new suit.”

I frown over at him. “How much did that cost?”

“Like three thousand dollars.”

“What?” I scoff.

“Mom, I tried to tell him it was too much, and he told me I can’t wear cheap suits if I want to be taken seriously.”

I frown as I watch the road, and my heart drops. Wade would have loved to have bought Fletch his first nice suit. Annoyance fills me. I know I should be grateful, but I feel like Tristan has stepped over the line. This was something that I wanted to do.

I’m his mother . . . it should have been me.

“Him and Sammia took me. Sammia told me to let him buy it because he has the money, and it’s true—I have been working very hard.”

“Wow.” I widen my eyes as I act enthusiastic. “Remind me, who is Sammia?”

“She’s Jameson’s PA. Her and Tristan are good friends.”

“Oh.” I remember her. She’s gorgeous.

“Yeah, I thought they were going out for a while.”

My eyes flick over to him. “Why did you think that?”

“Oh, they go to lunch together a lot. I just assumed.”

I grip the steering wheel as an unexpected burst of jealousy runs through me. I glance back over at him. “So . . . are they going out?”

“No. I met Sammia’s fiancé this week. Turns out they really are just friends.”

“Oh.” Relief fills me, and I frown as I assess my emotions. Hmm . . . I really shouldn’t care what he does.

Turns out that maybe I do. “Do you like Tristan?” I ask him.

“Yeah, he’s kind of growing on me.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, he’s not the bastard he pretends to be. Put it that way.”

My eyes dart between him and the road. “Why do you say that?”

“I don’t know,” he says causally as he stares out the window at the people rushing by on the sidewalk. “He’s not who I thought he was.”

“How come?”

“I don’t think he’s a bad guy in a good suit like I first thought. I think he’s actually a good guy in a good suit.” He takes out his phone and starts to scroll. “He’s actually pretty funny.”