Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 99918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
“He’s not sure he’s interested in selling,” Landry said, rising.
“What’s his personal background?”
“Upper middle class. He’s a computer science engineer, wife’s an attorney. They have some kids,” Landry answered, placing his glass on the patio table. “I’ve gotta get going. Amy’s got something going on tonight.”
“Tell her hello.” Tristan resisted the urge to give his buddy a hard time about the whirlwind romance he’d had with his assistant. They had broken every company policy Wilder, Inc. had, but they married a few weeks ago and Tristan had been the best man. He wondered if things had turned out differently, how that would have looked in court. Landry was lucky the relationship worked out like it had.
Landry showed himself out as Tristan went in search of whatever heavenly concoction lay within that oven.
Sometime around midnight, Tristan sat back in his office chair, digging his thumb and forefinger into his eyes. He’d spent the better part of the night working on a top secret priority—if only to himself—robotics program. Something he’d gotten in his head a couple of years ago. He’d never shared his ideas with anyone, but had had prototypes built on a very small scale. The tweaking was making him a little crazy. Fine-tuning the motor skills took time.
Tristan just had a knack for these things, and since he’d made his billions being innovative, he’d tried to stay cutting edge by keeping one step ahead of competition. He always reasoned that was why he had an innovations department that employed several hundred people, all working new, creative concepts to keep his computer software company ahead of the game. He lived for the idea of helping people gather the information they needed, ever since the moment he’d realized his web crawler was a viable product all those years ago.
Tristan pushed the office chair across the room as his cell phone vibrated. He generally ignored the device, but since he needed a mental break, he decided to answer, effectively ending a song from Hozier playing from a playlist off his phone.
“Hello.” Tristan caught Julian’s name flash across the caller ID as he answered.
“What’re you doing? You occupied?” Tristan thought he detected a slight slur, but at this time of night, he didn’t expect anything less.
“No,” he finally said. He began the process of shutting down the extensive computer equipment, which took some time. “I was just downstairs, working.”
“Well, I’m at your door. You want some company tonight?” Having a regular booty call sure made life a little easier. There was no chase with Julian and absolutely zero commitment. If he’d been in here with another guy, Julian might have asked to join in on the activities. Julian’s uninhibited nature and always-up-for-anything attitude was what he liked best about the guy.
“I’m headed up. You alone?” That was another question he’d learned to ask.
“Yeah, but I could call Stephen if you’re up for a threesome,” Julian replied.
“Nah, I’ve gotta be up early.” Tristan entered the code to the downstairs door, which he kept locked at all times. Maria was the only one who could get inside and that was to do minimal cleaning.
“All right, I promise I won’t keep you up all night. Open the door.” Tristan took the phone away from his ear and unlocked the front door remotely while taking the stairs up to the main level. He stepped into the foyer as the door opened. Julian was right up his alley for the night. Tall, dark, lean, and more than willing. “Come in.”
“Let’s get this party started,” Julian purred, walking through the door right into Tristan’s personal space. That cocky, I-want-to-fuck-you grin in place. “It’s my birthday.”
“Happy birthday,” Tristan replied, trying to remember if he’d known that piece of information.
“I’m twenty-eight. And all these guys getting married are seriously cramping my prospect list.” Julian leaned forward to lick across Tristan’s lips. He was a bold one.
“So I’m last choice, huh?” Tristan lifted his brow and gave Julian a smirk before shutting and locking the front door behind him.
“It’s more like I try to forget you, but damn, it’s hard.” Tristan wondered how many times he’d uttered those same words already this week. Julian’s lips met his and that was all the encouragement Tristan needed. Clothes were gone and they were in his bedroom in a matter of minutes.
“Dad, we don’t need a babysitter anymore. I’m sixteen. Chad’s gonna be eighteen in like two weeks. We got this,” Cate announced while helping Dylan put the dinner dishes in the sink.
“I can watch Cate,” Chad piped in, rinsing the dishes and putting them inside the dishwasher.
“I don’t need watching. I’m number one in my class. I’m class president…” Dylan stopped her midsentence so he didn’t have to hear all this again.
“It’s not like that, guys. This time’s different. Your mom’s working and can’t be interrupted, and they’ve scheduled my meetings until late every night. Nanny Laura isn’t coming to watch you, just field any problems for us,” Dylan said, deciding the rest of the salad would never be eaten, and tossed the remainder in the trash.
“When are you gonna be home?” Chad asked, rinsing the salad plate Dylan brought him.
“I’ll be home Sunday,” he informed them as he ran the soapy rag across the granite countertop.
“You know, Dad, none of our other friends have to do the dinner dishes,” Cate said, and Dylan just looked over his shoulder at her.
“Cleaning up after yourself is an important part of being the adult I keep hearing you say you’re becoming. I’m preparing you for life.”
“But we’re rich,” she whined.
So much for her maturity.
“We aren’t rich—” Dylan started to explain, but was immediately cut off by the child who was supposedly the most solid of all his children.
“But if Wilder buys Secret, then we’ll be very rich,” Chad added, closing the lid to the dishwasher. “Are you and Mom gonna move?”
“No! I have a better question! Are we getting trust funds?” Cate asked excitedly. Dylan ignored her completely, focusing on Chad’s question.
“What? You don’t like this house?” Dylan asked, a little confused. They lived in a six bedroom, seven bath home in Highland Park. The kids attended the prestigious Preston Hollow Private School. Every one of them had a brand new car. This, by far, beat the two bedroom home he’d grown up in and the college apartment they’d had when the kids were little. “I think you need a refresher course in the power of appreciation.”