Page 9 of Tell Me You Want Me

“Dante, to what do I owe the pleasure of you trudging to my office this early in the morning?” I ignore him for a second, my thumb flying across the phone screen as I open our group chat.

Dante: Vik’s office. Now.

Dante: @Rafe @Nolan @Dom

“What are you doing?” Vik asks, narrowing his eyes as he watches me text, only to see his phone light up with a notification.

“Calling a meeting,” I reply, sliding my phone back into my suit jacket. “The guys are on their way in.”

Vik rests his elbows on his desk, laces his fingers together, and takes a long, quiet breath. His gaze shifts past my shoulder to the area where Alexandria is sitting at her desk, typing away while clutching her work phone to her ear. He looks back at me, trying to decipher why my jaw is still tight with tension and there isn’t a lick of remorse in my eyes. Maybe he did see and hear everything I said to Alexandria. If he did, he’s keeping it close to the vest.

“You’re an idiot,” he says flatly. Because Vik is Vik, it took him about three seconds to put the puzzle together.

“Is that any way to speak to your business associate?” I raise an eyebrow.

“You married her,” he states, not even bothering to phrase it as a question. He pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out alow, weary breath. “Vegas. That’s why she looked like she was hiding something and sounded off her game this morning. Add in the fact you’re never here this early or badgering my assistant. Then there’s the random trip you took this weekend. Yeah, you’re an idiot.”

“She’s my wife,” I say, the word settling, heavy, absolute, and completely non-negotiable in the space between us.

“And does ‘your wife’ want everyone in this office to know she’s your wife?” Vik asks, his voice dripping with protectiveness. “Because from where I’m sitting, Alexandria looks like she’s two seconds from jumping out of her chair, marching herself in here, and losing her shit on you. And if you let this shit out of the bag right now, Dante, you might as well as get used to sleeping on the couch.”

“Let her try. It’ll give me an excuse to drag her onto it with me.” A low chuckle rumbles in my chest.

“I’m serious,” Vik warns, pointing a finger at me. “Romy is going to flay you alive when she finds out you married her friend in Las Vegas. Then there are Seraphina, Cory, Mischa, Genny, and Jett. Man, I do not envy you at all right now. Christ, if you ruin Alex’s career or reputation in this building, I won’t have to lift a single finger. Your wife and her friends will do it all for me.”

I lean back against the leather cushions, unfazed by his threat. “It’ll be worth it. I’m not keeping this a secret. Not from you, not our friends, and definitely not the world.” When a man knows how good of a woman he has, he doesn’t hide it.

Vik doesn’t get to answer because three men stride in, bringing a commanding wave of energy into the room. Rafe Montero, his dark eyes scanning the room, looking for anything that could pose a threat. His time in the military still has him on high alert. Dom Mercer follows behind him, looking like he just walked out of a board meeting. Then there’s Nolan;his expression is laced with varying degrees of curiosity and amusement.

“This better be good, Dante,” Dom says, tossing his keys onto Vik’s coffee table before dropping into the armchair near the couch. “I was in the middle of closing a deal.”

“What’s going on?” Rafe asks, leaning against the edge of Vik’s desk, folding his arms over his chest. “Vik looks like he wants to murder you.”

“I’d bet money it’s over the fiery woman out there currently talking about ordering a doll and placing pins strategically between the legs,” Nolan inputs.

“He does,” Vik says smoothly behind his desk. “Because our resident billionaire here decided to lose his damn mind in Nevada.”

“Spill it. What did you do?” Nolan asks. I look around at the men who have been more like my brothers for years, the men who know every dark corner of my life.

“I’m married,” I state clearly, not mincing words. The silence that falls over the office is absolute. Even Dom, who usually has a quick remark for everything, stares at me.

“You’re what?” Rafe asks with confusion.

“I married Alexandria Holland over the weekend in Vegas,” I reiterate, my tone leaving zero room for doubt. “She’s sitting at her desk right outside the door, wearing my ring.”

“Holy shit, you actually did it. Good luck, man. I think you’re going to need it.” Dom lets out a loud laugh.

“I’ll take it.” My eyes move to the woman sitting at her desk.

“And she’s currently trying to figure out how to annul you,” Vik adds, looking from his computer screen to mine. Fucker is doing a remote log-in to her computer, and it’s a damn good thing he’s not looking at her phone. Friend or not, I’d kick his ass.

“Do the girls know yet?” Nolan shakes his head, a wry smile pulling at his mouth.

“Not yet,” Vik replies. “Which means Dante is a walking dead man the second I make a call.

“I don’t care who knows,” I say, standing from the couch, straightening my suit jacket and fixing my cuff links before I look at the group. “In fact, I’m making sure everyone knows. Starting right now.” I walk out of Vik’s office. Alexandria is sitting at her desk, holding the receiver tightly against her ear, pretending to be engaged in a work call.

“Alexandria.” I capture her attention, my deep voice cutting through the soft hum of her typing on her keyboard. She freezes instantly, her shoulders locking up as she slowly turns her head to meet my gaze. I lick my lips, letting my eyes hold hers, challenging her in a way while simultaneously conveying she lost this battle. “I suggest you tell your friends before I do it for you.”