Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 143870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 719(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 480(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 719(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 480(@300wpm)
My jaw tightens as the scene plays out, confirming what I already suspected. The worst part is that I know Marco gets off on this shit. In college, he used to entertain himself by pitting women against each other to see who would fight over him. I thought he’d outgrown it, but here we are.
When I push the door open, his bleary eyes drift to mine, blinking several times before he registers that I’m actually here. Then he grabs Isobel by the hair and pries her off his face.
“You come back to take your shot at this one too?” he sneers. “She likes it up the ass. Should I bend her over and let you have at it?”
“What the hell?” Isobel glares at him. “You can’t just offer me up to your friends, asshole.”
Marco ignores her, holding my gaze like he’s contemplating if he could actually take me. I’d welcome him to try, because I’d gladly knock his teeth out.
We’ve had our ups and downs over the years, but I’ve never wanted to inflict physical damage on him until now.
“Chantel is still here,” I inform him. “You plan on asking her to join the two of you?”
“It’s not your fucking business,” he grits out.
“He’s not cheating,” Isobel interjects. “They aren’t even in a real relationship. She has all these stupid rules and things she won’t let him do, and he’s over it. He’s breaking things off with her.”
Marco doesn’t say anything, and I shake my head as a humorless laugh escapes me. “Do you really believe that?”
She glances at Marco. “Tell him, baby. Tell him what you said.”
“Fuck’s sake,” Marco snaps at her. “Not right now.”
Isobel grabs his face, forcing him to look at her. “Say it.”
“He’s not ending it.” I translate for her. “He’s playing both of you.”
“Dude, what the fuck?” Marco glares at me. “You’re being a real prick tonight. You’re supposed to have my back. In case you’ve forgotten, you owe me.”
I stare at him as those words land with all the subtlety of a bomb.
He’s right. Chances are, I probably wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for him. It’s why I’ve stayed by his side, long past the point of reason.
By chance, he happened to be driving through the parking lot when two Bratva idiots tried to take me for ransom at sixteen. We went to school together, but I didn’t even know Marco. That didn’t stop him from crashing his car into the van before they could wrestle me into it. At the time, I believed it was just who he was. But he never lets me forget what he did, and just like Chantel, I’m little more than another trophy to him.
The number of times I’ve heard him tell that story over the years has worn me down, and looking at him now, I can’t see anything left to salvage between us.
“I’ve had your back,” I remind him. “Through every reckless decision, every spiral, and every fuck up. I’ve fought and bled and hemorrhaged money for you. But it will never be enough.”
“That’s fucking convenient,” he bites out. “Don’t act like you didn’t love coming to the rescue. That’s the only reason you gave my father that loan. Because you always have to be a goddamned hero.”
“I gave your father that loan to save him from drowning in the debt you created. But if it’s such a threat to you, that’s fine. Because I’m done. You can fix your own problems from now on, including this one.”
“You think I haven’t noticed the way you look at her?” he snarls.
I ignore that remark and head for the door while Isobel tries to pull his attention back to her.
“Tell her, Marco,” I call over my shoulder. “It’s not optional.”
He doesn’t answer because Isobel starts to argue with him, and a slap rings out as I leave the room. By the time I’ve grabbed Chantel’s bag down the hall, they’re going at it like animals when I walk past the door again.
A dark cloud settles over me, and the crowd seems to sense it as they clear a path for my exit.
I make a pit stop in the kitchen, grabbing a bag of ice and a hand towel before I head back outside.
Seeing Daniel the doorman back at his post doesn’t improve my mood, and when he registers the murderous expression on my face, he opens his mouth to apologize. He doesn’t get the chance because I knock him on his ass with a single punch.
“Next time, maybe you’ll learn to fucking listen.”
When I open the back door of the car, Chantel is bundled up beneath the blanket, sipping her San Pellegrino and snacking on chocolate while she watches Pretty Woman on the entertainment system.
“Hope you don’t mind,” she says. “I had these in my clutch, and I didn’t get a chance to eat dinner.”