The look in his eyes made my chest tighten. “Do you regret last night?”
“No.”
“What’s bothering you then? I can see the turmoil in your eyes.”
He sighed. “I don’t want to hurt you, Juliette. But I’m not sure how this could ever work.”
“What if I talk to my father? He’s always wanted me to be daddy’s little girl, so he could give me anything I wanted—a pony, a car, whatever to spoil me. Except, of course, he couldn’t give me what I wanted most: a normal father and a normal life. I’ll tell him I wantyou, and he needs to set you free.”
“A pony, a car—those are things he wanted you to have. He doesn’t want you with me, Juliette.”
“How do you know that?”
“Well, for starters, he told me if I laid a finger on you, he’d chop off my dick and stuff it for his mantel.”
I cringed. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize for him. Ever.”
“What if I told my dad we’d never touched? That I’ve fallen for you, and he has to set you free because you won’t even give me a chance while you work for him.”
Wes rubbed the back of his neck. “No.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not a good idea. Your father is in the middle of a war, and the last thing he wants to deal with is one of his people falling for his only daughter.”
“But…”
“It’s just not the right time.”
I didn’t like it, but maybe Wes was right. Maybe after whatever was going on was over, my dad would be in a better place—more reasonable. He tended to be more difficult than usual when he was under stress. Which I suppose is why he’d been difficult the last decade because being the head of a crime family was the definition of tension.
“Okay…but when the time is right?”
Wes frowned. “I don’t know when that’ll be, Juliette. I don’t want to promise you something I don’t have control over.”
“But I want more than to be your secret fling.”
Wes seemed to contemplate what I’d said for a minute. “Like what? What is more?”
“I don’t know. Simple things. I want to go out on dates, go to the movies, hold your hand in public. Be a couple, so we can see if this could really work.”
Before he could respond, my cell phone buzzed on the nightstand. Wes and I looked over at the same time.
He frowned. “Why is that putz calling you so early?”
“We’ve discussed that we both like to write first thing in the morning, so he probably assumed I was up.”
It buzzed again, and Wes held my eyes. “I’ll go get coffee and give you a minute.”
When he walked out of the room, I figured I might as well get the call over with.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Jules. I didn’t wake you, did I?”
I sat up, back against the headboard. “No, I was up. What’s going on?”
