The sun starts poking through the window, hitting the couch just right, and when I open my eyes, I have to squint. A smirk pulls at my mouth as I think about overhearing Vanessa last night—her quiet moans, the sound of her shower afterward. I’m pretty sure she thinks I was asleep, but hearing her masturbate was incredibly hot, enough to make my cock swell.
It makes me wonder who she was thinking about while she did it.
I remind myself that I can’t just fuck her, or get with her, right away. I need to take my time, earn her trust. Don’t get me wrong, keeping the whole marriage contract thing a secret sucks, but if she finds out, she could end up hating everyone. Especially if she thinks that’s the only reason Gino is okay with her being around.
I grab my phone and see it’s just before seven in the morning. Sitting up, I pull on dark navy pants and a white button-down shirt, then head into the bathroom to change.
When I step back out, Vanessa is standing in the kitchen, making coffee.
“I didn’t think you’d be up so early,” I say.
“I heard you moving around, so I thought I’d get up and make some coffee,” she says, handing me a cup. “The cream’s in the fridge, and the sugar is right there.” She points to a small white container on the counter.
With the brighter light, I really take in her apartment. It looks like something straight out of an interior design magazine—everything carefully chosen everything in its place. She clearly has an eye for design.
“I’m good with black coffee, but thank you,” I say.
I start walking toward the couch to grab my laptop when she asks, “Are you hungry? I have some bagels if you want one.”
“Thanks, but I’m good for now.” She grabs her cup of coffee and heads back to her room. I figure she either goes back to sleep or puts something on. There wasn’t a TV in there when I glanced inside, so she probably uses a laptop.
I sit down on the couch, open up my computer, and pull up my email. We’re in the middle of negotiating a deal to build a new office development—one we hope will eventually become our main workspace. I’m pretty sure Gino is getting tired of everyone working out of his dining room or crowding into his home office.
An email from John Mitchell, the real estate agent, catches my eye. He says we’re close, but he needs me to give him a call. Great—that doesn’t sound reassuring. He sent it before seven, though, so if I call now, he’ll probably answer.
After two rings, he picks up.
“This is John,” he says.
“Hey, John. It’s Mateo, you told me to call?”
“Yeah, listen—they’re getting close to accepting theoffer, but they received another one late last night that they want to review.”
“What’s the likelihood of whoever submitted it getting it?” I ask, irritation in my voice.
“Highly unlikely, but there’s still a chance.”
“Great. Thanks for telling me.”
“Yeah, no problem. If we close this, everything should be wrapped up by the end of the week.”
I can hear him shuffling papers in the background.
“Alright, I’ll talk to you later. Thanks again, John.”
“No problem. Talk soon.”
I spend the next hour reviewing legal documents and submitting requests. When I was in law school, there were moments when I wanted to spite everyone and focus on something else, like entertainment. But after my father died, I decided against it.I realized I needed to stay on my path and remember why I was becoming a lawyer in the first place.
I did this to help my best friend. Back in college, we came up with a plan: once Gino took over, we would make the businesses as legitimate as possible. And then build our own company.
My phone starts vibrating. I look down and see Gino calling.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey, man. How’s Vanessa?” he replies, his voice still thick with sleep.
“She’s good, I think. She’s been in her room all morning. I’m good too, by the way,” I say sarcastically.
