Granted, those are better pastimes than romancing random women and knocking them up, so he has one up on our father.
“He’s not so careless now that he has a family to think about. You, on the other hand, are at loose ends with something to prove.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means careful-and-thorough Michael isn’t sure where he’s going to be next month, or what he’ll be doing next year. And you’re dealing with this absence of purpose while coming to terms with what must feel like a betrayal. You have things to figure out before you pull somebody else into the equation. At least until you deal with your situation.”
Don’t remind me.
“I keep telling you to stay out of my problems. There’s no situation if I don’t take the money. I don’t need it. I have enough to last me for however long I choose to ‘figure things out.’”
“I hear you. No more advice from me, I promise.” Ken sounds tired and done. “I officially end my reign as meddler and matchmaker to the Finns and random side characters. The rest of them can figure things out for themselves. So can you.”
“Fine.” Or is it? “You helped Bellamy,” I remind him, rolling my eyes at the hint of petulance in my voice. Didn’t I just tell him to stay out of my business?
Yes, but what if he could help you keep Win?
“Your brother needed me. He would still be looking for the next adrenaline rush if I hadn’t tossed Seamus into his path. And honestly, Michael? If you have the man of your dreams trapped in a cabin with you and you can’t figure it out from there, nothing I can do could possibly help you.”
“Thanks for that vote of confidence.”
“You’re welcome. You should know that as soon as the weather dies down, one of us will be stopping by to see if Win wants to come back to the lodge. And he will come back. He’s agreed to do a job. He’s a stickler about that kind of thing. So your time is limited.”
“I could say the same. This storm might be the only thing helping the both of us right now.”
“You might be right about that. Thank you, Michael. For listening. For taking care of Win. I owe you one.”
After we hang up, I stare at my phone for a minute before typing out a text.
If you really want to thank me, slow them down for as long as you can. He doesn’t need to be rescued right away.
I glance over at the files on the desk. The ones I liberated before leaving my job. Inside, there’s more than enough evidence to get Ali and the people he’s connected to off my back. I’ve been holding on to it instead of giving it to Bellamy. He’d already lost his father, so I wasn’t sure how he’d react to the information, and to be perfectly honest, I didn’t trust him.
But Ken’s right. I need to solve my problems before bringing Win into my life.
I walk over, snap a few photos of the circled, relevant information, and text them to my brother with a brief explanation before turning off my phone.
Maybe there’s more Demir in me than I’m willing to admit. I want Win. For more than just a night or a weekend. And I’m realizing there’s not much I won’t do to get what I want.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
WIN
I can’t believehe let me sleep so long. I had so many dirty plans. Snowbound for an entire night with Michael and, other than that glorious meal followed by sex that rocked me to the foundations of my cynical soul, I missed it.
Okay, I woke up at some point to his mouth on my cock and thrilled him with my eager and simultaneous reciprocation before falling asleep again, but still. I’d already napped for four hours, so sleeping another—I glance at the clock on the wall—eleven? Seriously? That’s absolutely unheard of for me.
“We’ve already established your dad isn’t an assassin, so he wouldn’t drug me,” I tell the dogs as I lift each one to give them a snuggle while eyeing the kitchen island laden with food. “That walk through the snow and the orgasms must have taken more out of me than I thought, that’s all. But we still have time since the weather hasn’t let up completely yet.”
I just said that. Even crazier? I meant it. I’m glad I’m still stuck here. At least for another few hours.
It isn’t every day I get to fall asleep beside someone like Michael and wake up to the kind of breakfast I’ve only seen inmovies. I notice my phone beside an empty plate, along with a note that says my current bed buddy is chopping more firewood and will be back soon.
“Damned overachiever,” I mumble, snapping a few pictures of the meal before sitting down and stuffing my mouth with bacon and French toast made from actual French bread. I’m pretty sure that other plate has the prettiest eggs on it that have ever been poached. And I’m going to eat all of it, I think, humming a song fromOliveras I chow down.“Food, glorious food.”
It smells just as good as it tastes. I, however, smell less than appetizing. Sweating in the woods followed by multiple orgasms isnota good cologne for me. After this is over, I might have to brave the stairs to get to the shower. I really do feel better after my deep sleep. That and great sex is a healing combination. Now I just need to get clean.
As soon as I’m sated, I take a sip of what tastes like freshly squeezed orange juice and finally check my phone. I think I hesitated last night because I was enjoying my fantasy break from reality, but I feel the smallest twinge of guilt when I see it’s filled with voice messages and texts from two very worried friends.
