Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
This is my world.
Darkness.
Decay.
Death.
And Peyton doesn’t belong anywhere near it.
“He’s dead,” Matteo says. “I’ll call the cleaners. Why don’t you take off? Go blow off some steam?”
I look at him and scoff.
He’s one to talk.
“It wouldn’t kill you to get laid.” He shrugs.
My brother thinks the answers to life’s problems can be found in between a woman’s legs. I, on the other hand, find that women only complicate shit.
Except …
No.
I mentally shake the thought off.
“I don’t need to get laid.”
“Really? When was the last time you were with a woman?” He quirks a knowing brow. “It’s been over a month since your little rendezvous with … what’s her name?”
“It doesn’t matter.” I refuse to speak her name, not wanting the filth from my life to ever touch her, even metaphorically. “It was a onetime thing.”
“Well, maybe you should make it a two-time thing.”
“It’s not happening, so drop it.”
“I’m just saying, maybe—”
“I left her. When you called to tell me about Andrey’s death, I left her in the fucking hotel room without even a note.”
Matteo chuckles. “Well, maybe that’s the problem. You guys have unfinished business. You know where she works. Go to her. Apologize. See where shit goes. You seemed really into her, and now that you don’t have the arranged-marriage bullshit hanging over your head …” He shrugs.
“What are you, Cupid? You don’t even believe in relationships.”
“Whoa,” he says, holding his hand up. “One”—he puts four fingers down, leaving only his index finger up—“I didn’t say anything about a relationship.” He laughs. “I just meant maybe you guys could have a repeat of whatever you had in the Dominican Republic. And two”—he lifts his middle finger—“I have nothing against relationships.”
“So, you’re telling me if you met a woman and liked her, you’d consider being in a relationship with her?”
“Now, you’re just talking crazy.” He grins. “I said I have nothing against them, not that I’d ever want to experience one. And not for the reason you’re thinking.”
“What reason am I thinking?”
“Pussy.” He rolls his eyes. “You think I couldn’t handle being with only one pussy for the rest of my life. But that’s not true. Pussy is pussy. Once you’ve had one, they’re all the same.”
I think back to the way Peyton’s cunt felt while wrapped around my cock, and I disagree. Maybe pussy is pussy … until you’ve been with someone who means more.
“You’re thinking about that woman’s pussy, aren’t you?” Matteo laughs.
“Don’t fucking worry about what I’m thinking about.” I glare his way, and it only has him laughing harder.
“So, if it’s not pussy,” I say, getting back to the point of this conversation, “what’s your reason for not wanting to be in a relationship?”
“The same as yours,” he says simply, sobering up. “I watched what Mom went through … what Brielle went through. And I wouldn’t want someone I cared about to be within a hundred miles of this life. We might have to be a part of this world, but that doesn’t mean I would bring someone else into it. And add in the fact that I’m not exactly husband material.” He laughs humorlessly. “What kind of life could I even give a woman?”
Well, shit. I guess I got him all wrong.
“Matteo …” I start.
My brother might be rough around the edges, but I know how far he’ll go to protect the people he loves. I have no doubt, if he had a woman he cared about, he’d stop at nothing to make sure she was safe and protected.
“Besides,” he says with a smirk, not letting me finish my thought, “relationships come with expectations. Sex would turn into dates and trips and jewelry.” He mock shivers. “One night, no expectations—besides the promise of multiple orgasms—that’s what’s best for me and my bank account.”
“You say this like you’re not worth fucking millions.”
“And I plan to stay that way.”
He’s deflecting, avoiding the heavy conversation, and I let him because now isn’t the time or place to have a heart-to-heart.
“You got this?” I say, nodding toward the dead body.
“You already know I do.”
Since I drove into the office today, I head down to the private garage and unlock my Aston Martin. It’s not often I drive myself, but I knew I’d be meeting with Carlos this evening, and I wasn’t sure how it would go, so I sent Janet home early and told Fernando he had the day off.
I slide into the leather seat and push Start. I had the car customized, so it has B6-level armor, making it completely bulletproof.
I pull out of the garage, but instead of going left, which would take me in the direction of home, I go right, refusing to think about why. Until I get to the airport and park in short-term parking.
I’m just going to apologize, I tell myself.
The way I left things was fucked up. Maybe Matteo’s right, and Peyton and I have unfinished business. Once I explain, she’ll forgive me, and then we’ll go our separate ways. Hell, she might not even be here. This isn’t even where she’s based out of.