“No. You’ll beterribleat it. You’ll never make any money.”
“I’m not asking you to pay me. Just show me the ropes. I can begin as an unpaid intern.”
He blanches. “Hell no. Get an unpaid internship with Emmett or Grant.”
“Why are you so against me working in advertising? It’s a great place to learn how to appeal to different people’s tastes and desires. Plus, I’m a great photographer.”
He puts his fork down and looks me in the eye. “Noah. You’re too independent. You can’t follow directions and you do whatever you want. If I told you we were launching an engagement ring campaign, you’d bring me a photo of Marilyn Monroe with a blown-up diamond ring on her head like a crown.”
I consider for a moment. “Nah. I’d hang it around her neck on a kind of choker, making sure the rock rested between her boobs.”
“You’re making my point for me. Look, if you’re finally tired of cheetahs, why don’t you just get married and give Dad the baby he wants? Or just bang one of Joey’s bimbos and get her pregnant? That way Dad’ll quit bugging the rest of us. It’s too late for this year’s birthday party, but next year…”
“Ugh. What did my not-yet-created baby do to deserve that fate?”
Hux shrugs, then downs his wine, hiding his face with the glass.
There’s a good reason Emmett and Griffin refuse to let our dad near their children. Dad thinks the giant dick canon we gave him was still the best birthday gift ever, not realizing it was a gag gift. He made replicas with some modifications so that they’d actually shoot out goopy white liquid, then had them at parties with kids around. “Bro. I thought you loved me.”
“I do, but you’re obviously bored and restless. Making a baby will be new and interesting. And you’ll probably be pretty good at it, too.”
“I’m not a virgin, you asshole.”
“Of course. But have you done it without a rubber?” He raises both eyebrows.
“No.” If you want something done right, you do it yourself. No condom, no sex, and I provide the contraception.
“So you’re a ‘raw’ virgin.” Huxley starts to reach for more wine, then looks across the restaurant. “Huh.”
“What?” I say in a bored tone. Don’t want to seem over-eager to know what he’s looking at when it’s probably Catalina and Andreas arriving a little early.
“Isn’t that Bobbi?”
“What?” I swivel around immediately. “Where?”
“Over there.” Hux points to my five o’clock and looks impressed. “She’s hot in that dress. If she wore something like that at her bakery she’d make a mint off her male customers.”
I spot her among the diners, and Hux is right. She’s in a bright red calf-length dress with a slit that goes all the way up one creamy leg and stops at mid-thigh. Her golden hair is unbound and pretty. I realize my tingling sensation wasn’t guilt at betraying Grant and Aspen, but an unconscious awareness of Bobbi since I stepped inside the restaurant.
An Asian guy is sitting opposite her. Something about him feels familiar, but I can’t place it. I look him up and down, doing my best to find some fault. But his dark navy three-piece suit looks like bespoke Italian. It fits his lean frame perfectly, his shoulders straight and broad. His hair isn’t flaming orange, and he doesn’t look like a Canadian druggie searching for better and cheaper highs.He’s actually decent looking, I admit grudgingly. His eyes are surprisingly intense, his lips full—the kind of face many women would find attractive, including Bobbi. His burgundy tie is impeccably knotted, the pin on it—probably a real diamond, if I’m reading the rest of him correctly—discreet and expensive.
The man exemplifies good taste and casual affluence. Likely born to money and comfortable with it. I watch him eat, hoping he’ll slurp his wine or chew with his mouth open. But nope. Even my mother would approve of his manners.
He’s the exact opposite of Lorcan Duncan—a true threat and a dangerous rival.
Something flashes in his hand. A blue stone.
Bobbi bought a blue diamond ring. The band was too small for his hand, but she could’ve resized it.
Is this guy the perfect husband she manifested?
Hell no.No fucking way.
But he fits the bill. He’s the right age. Looks good enough if you like uptight corporate drones. Probably wants kids because Asians are big on family.
The idea of him and Bobbi in bed together kills my appetite faster than a roach puking in my food.
Mr. Perfect Asian Guy slides the ring onto her finger. What the hell? He can’t even buy his own fucking ring to propose?
