He took her meaning.
“How long will it take you?” he asked.
“Probably longer than you can wait first thing in the morning.”
He didn’t doubt it.
In fact, she had some sorcery going on because her makeup still looked perfect even if her hair hadn’t survived the drunken evening and passing out. That didn’t mean it didn’t look fucking smashing, long, fat, shining tendrils tangled on the pillow.
His erection had calmed down, but it was threatening to come back, so he spoke.
“I’ll go first.”
“Good call,” she said.
Dair wanted to kiss her, touch her, something.
He didn’t.
They weren’t there. Not while lying in bed.
So he rolled out and headed to the bathroom.
He did all his business, including brushing his teeth, plucking the bouquet out of the basin and putting it back in when he was done, and he strolled out only for Blake to be lugging her tote in.
“I ordered coffee and croissants to be brought up. Knock on the door when they arrive,” she bossed, then closed the door.
He smiled at it, and it didn’t fly under the radar that he was smiling a lot around Blake Sharp.
He considered himself a mellow guy. He made a point of doing what he enjoyed as often as he could. He was born to wealth and made his own. In his mid-twenties, he’d had a short-lived, high-profile, unwise marriage to a vain, celebrity-hungry woman whose sole desire was to be a WAG, something she accomplished with him, which ended in a messy divorce, so she accomplished it again with some other poor arsehole (that one ended in divorce too).
But other than that, he had good friends, a loving mother, a close relationship with his sister, and a father he did not respect.
However, outside the man being an inveterate cheat (Dair suspected Helena wasn’t the only other woman, though he didn’t know this as truth), and too hard on Dair in the “a man’s gotta learn how to be a man” department while he was growing up, he wasn’t a bad dad.
In fact, in the times Dair could forget all that shite, Balfour was gruffly loving and intensely protective.
To put a fine point on it, Balfour was nothing like Helena.
In short, Dair had a good life. He intended to keep having one. He didn’t take it for granted. He recognized it and put the work in to nourish it.
But he still couldn’t remember the last time he smiled this often.
He hadn’t showered so Blake could have the bathroom. He’d do it after she did whatever she was going to do in there.
But he had to get these suit trousers off.
He switched them out to some track pants and went to his phone.
The text from before was from his mum.
It was to him and Davi.
He read it.
Breakfast in my suite at 9:30. If Blake is still here, bring her as well.
Dair sighed, uncertain about taking Blake to this particular family breakfast. He checked the time (it was twenty before nine) and sat on the side of the bed to answer.
