The Scotch Queen (Scotch 2)

“But you understand what I’m saying, Crewe. It can’t be some medical school dropout from Brooklyn.”

I’d already said this twice. “Again, marriage isn’t on my mind, Ariel.”

“For now,” she said coldly. “This woman is going to make a mockery out of you. You’re smarter than this. She’s distracting you from what’s important. She’s manipulating you, and you don’t even realize it.”

I couldn’t disagree more. “Ariel, enough.”

“No. She’s—”

I held up my hand. “Enough.”

Ariel shut her mouth, but her eyes burned like she had more to say.

“You’ve made your feelings perfectly clear. I don’t need to hear you repeat them fifteen more times.” I rose from the chair, my hand shaking with the urge to hit something. “Focus on your job. That’s what I’m paying you to do.”

I retreated into my office, the one place in the world that was solely mine. I owned lots of real estate, but I had to share that space with dozens of employees. My bedroom was occupied by London, who was probably waiting for me to tell her I was ready for lunch.

I chose to hide out in here instead.

There was a light knock on the door before London stepped inside. She took one look at me and immediately knew something was wrong because she shut the door and walked inside without being invited. She walked to my desk then took a seat on the edge, crossing her legs and facing the large window behind me.

I didn’t look at her, my ankle resting on the opposite knee and my fingertips against my lips. I swayed slightly from left to right, replaying my conversation was Ariel over and over. I understood she had a personal interest in her investment, but she was blowing this out of proportion.

“Anything I can do?” London knew me well enough that she understood not to ask me what happened. When she pushed for details, it just pushed me away instead.

“No.”

She looked out the window and pulled her hair over one shoulder. Even out of the corner of my eye, she looked beautiful. It was hard not to believe we’d just kissed so passionately thirty minutes ago. “You want me to leave you alone?”

Any other time, I would have immediately answered yes. But I didn’t want her to go anywhere. Her presence sheathed my anger. Her beauty made me feel calm. I straightened my legs then patted my thigh. “No.”

A slight expression of surprise came over her face before she straddled my hips. Her dress rose up her thighs when she spread her legs, and her arms wrapped around my shoulders.

My hands moved to her hips, and I stared at her without saying a word. Direct eye contact was usually an act of hostility, but looking into her eyes made my irritation wash away. I could hold the intimate look and feel better, not worse. I didn’t care if she could read my emotions because I had nothing to hide—not from her. “I got into a fight with Ariel.” London hadn’t asked me anything, but the words came out anyway. I didn’t see her as a woman who was in my captivity anymore. She wasn’t just some woman I was sleeping with. I saw her as something much more than that—saw her as a friend.

My closest friend.

She watched me in silence, never asking for more than what I gave.

“She thinks you’re a distraction.”

“Well…she’s not totally wrong. I interrupt you when you’re working all the time.” Her hands slid down my chest, and she watched her own movements. “I won’t do it anymore.”

I loved it when she interrupted me. I lived for those moments. When she slipped me a note and invited me upstairs to fuck her, I was harder than a rock. “No. I look forward to those interruptions.”

“Maybe I’ll take a break for a while…get on Ariel’s good side.”

She could never get on her good side.

“I can try talking to her. I don’t want to make your life more stressful.”

I already knew how that conversation would go. “That wouldn’t do any good. She doesn’t trust you, thinks you’re manipulating me.” I didn’t accuse London of anything because I didn’t suspect her in any regard. I knew Ariel was wrong, so I didn’t need to question London about it.

London stared at me, her eyes unblinking. “Manipulating you…?”

“Trying to soften me to get your way. I told her to knock it off. I’m sick of listening to her paranoia.” I didn’t mention the part about marriage. London and I hadn’t had a conversation about our future or where our relationship stood, and I wasn’t excited to have one either.

Her hands slid down my chest to my stomach, where her fingertips gently pressed against my collared shirt. Her eyes were downcast, and she was quiet.

I knew how she felt about me, so this conversation was probably offensive. But I made it clear I didn’t share Ariel’s beliefs. “The only reason why I put up with Ariel is because she’s good at what she does. The best, actually. She’s entitled to her opinion, of course. I just get sick of listening to her criticize my sex life.”