by K. Webster
“If he turns out to be a problem, you’re fucking fixing said problem.” He groans, sipping whiskey from a tumbler. If we didn’t share the same dark eyes, you’d never know we are related. We couldn’t be more opposite, but we’re a team. And family. He trusts me, and that’s why we work—why Harose works.
Where I’m all visible tattoos and bad boy persona, Ronan is a suit with a no-nonsense attitude. People take him seriously. He’s stern and bossy and an overall dick when he wants to be. His suits are expensive and his business sense is spot-on. People don’t fuck with my brother for fear of getting sent to the goddamn corner or getting an ass whipping.
“We done?” I ask, my ass bouncing in the seat, desperate to get back to Nat.
“You got somewhere to be?” he mocks, raising a brow.
“I do. Asshole.” I grin as I stand and slip on my jacket.
“What the fuck’s going on with you?” he asks, sitting forward to study me like he can read the answers to his question on my face. It reminds me of a time when he was responsible for my wellbeing. When I’d fuck around at school and he’d hand my ass to me like he was my damn father. Three years. We’re three years apart, but ever since Mom got sick, he stepped into a parental role that he never left. Eighteen came and went. Ronan is still a bossy, nosy dick.
“What do you mean?” I play aloof because I don’t know what’s going on with me. I’ve never felt like this about a woman before.
“You’re acting differently. What is it that you’re in a hurry to get back to or should I say with whom?”
Damn. Am I that transparent?
“Spill it, little brother,” he orders. “Who the hell has snared the legendary pussy pleaser, Ren fucking Hayes?”
Sighing, I run a hand through my hair and shrug. “It’s new. She’s new, refreshing. Fucking exquisite.” I chuckle, conjuring up her beautiful form in my mind. Her curves, the little dimples at the base of her spine. The birthmark that almost resembles a star in her inner thigh. Her giggle when I touch her sides where she’s ticklish. Fuck, the way she gasps for air when I restrict her pretty little mouth.
A slapping of Ronan’s hand hitting his knee drags me from my thoughts. “You fucking love this girl.” It’s a statement, not a question—a wrong one.
“Shut up. I wouldn’t know how to love a girl like her or any fucking woman.”
You fucking love this girl.
It’s been two weeks. No one falls in love that fast. But I’ve been eyeing her since the trial. I don’t love her. Denial.
“Ren, I’ve never seen you like this.”
“Like what?” I snap, picking up a pen from his desk and tossing it at him.
Chuckling, he shakes his head and props one leg up, resting his ankle on his knee as he leans back in his leather chair. “My baby brother is in love.”
Before I can answer or throw something bigger at him, the door opens and his flavor of the month walks in and stops in her tracks when she sees me in here. Her eyes widen and go between the two of us.
“Oops sorry, Daddy.” She bites on her finger and twirls her hair with the other hand. “I forgot to knock.” Her tone is soft and innocent, but her eyes scream anything but.
“You’re a bad girl, Starla,” my brother growls. “You know the rules.”
Her cheeks flush, and I roll my eyes. Can’t they save this shit for when I’m not here?
“I do,” she replies, her voice breathless. “I deserve a spanking.”
Rising to his feet and moving around his desk, Ronan ushers me to the door with a firm hand on my shoulder. “Duty calls, brother. But we will revisit this conversation.”
Like fuck, we will. I hear the swat he gives her ass as the door swings closed on my exit.
I shoot a text to Nat to ask if she wants me to pick up food on the way home but get no reply. I don’t even want to dissect this shit Ronan was spouting. I will admit I care about Nat. Damn, she worked her way into my give a shit book when she relentlessly stalked me and gave me hell at every turn. But love?
My phone buzzes with an incoming text and my chest gets a weird fucking exciting thrill pounding in it. It’s not fucking love.
I stare at the screen and scowl. It’s not Nat, it’s fucking William.
William: Where are you? We were supposed to meet tonight.
Fuck. I forgot about him and that he asked to meet up tonight. I didn’t say for sure that we could. I’ve been blowing him off for fucking months because I still struggle with what happened with Kate. If I killed a girl, I’d not be eager to get back to the scene, to playing, but William is like a drug addict after a fix. He’s been relentless in his pleas to take him to the club, to let him join me in a session. I shoot back a reply and toss my cell in the passenger seat.
Me: Can’t tonight. I have work.
“Nat, wake up, beautiful. I brought food,” I call out as I push through the front door grinning, knowing how much she loves junk food.
The place is quiet. No lights are on, but a warm glow is seeping from the bedroom doorway.
“Nat?” I call, trotting inside to see the bed a mess but no Nat. Her sweatshirt is dumped on the end of the bed, but she’s nowhere.
I pull out my cell and try her number. It rings and then goes to voicemail. What the fuck? I shoot her a text.
Me: Where did you go? I brought dinner and planned to eat your sweet pussy for dessert. P.S. You still owe me a blowjob.
I collapse on the couch with the pizza I brought home and flick on an old episode of Game of Thrones. Damn, that dragon bitch reminds me of Nat. From a passive little princess into a badass dragon riding queen. I’m about to pull my dick out and rub one out when my cell dings.
A middle finger emoji followed with a text.
Nat: Blow this.
What the fuck?
Me: You’re acting like a brat. What the hell is your problem?
Nothing.
Has she gone crazy? Is this because I bailed to go sort shit out for work? Is this a relationship?
My head swims with confusion and a million questions. Fuck this. Abandoning the pizza, I grab my car keys and drive to her shitty apartment.
It’s fucking cold and damp by the time I get there. The clock reads 1:13 on my dash and I debate turning around and going back home. Since when the fuck did I become this guy?
The type running around after a woman.
Since her.
Turning the car off, I slip out and look up to see her lights on. I’m going to demand she stop being a diva and let me fuck her tight little cunt into a frenzy. Then she can get on her knees and beg for forgiveness for being a pissy bitch. I need to set the ground rules now if we’re going to keep this up—whatever the fuck this is.
The elevator is broken in her building, so I have to climb the three flights of stairs. She owes me for this crap. I ring her bell and step from foot to foot, trying to warm the fuck up.
“Nat, open the fucking door. I know you’re in there,” I grind out. She’s taking this too far.
The door flies open, and a seething firecracker glares at me. Dragon queen.
“So I worked later than I thought. You can’t just leave and have a tantrum.” I smile, lifting a brow at her. But she doesn’t smile back. Her posture is rigid, her lips pursed. Red swollen eyes make the green look piercing. “Nat?” I frown.
“This”—she waves a finger between us—“is done.”
“Done? Not happening, Nat. Stop being a brat,” I growl. I’m getting pissed off standing in the hallway arguing about bullshit with a chick I want to throttle not just for pleasure right now.
“I’m not a brat. You’re a fucking asshole.”
She’s like a different fucking person. Something’s crawled inside her and turned my nerdy, little beauty into a head case. “I was working. You’re being insane. Call me when you stop whatever the fuck this is.” I scoff, turning to leave. There’s only so much bullshit I’ll take from her ass.
She shoves me, palms flat on m
y back and all her might thrown into it. I don’t fucking budge, but she tried. Turning, I narrow my eyes on her.
“You think this is because you had to work? This is because you’re a fucking liar,” she screeches.
Grabbing her wrist when her hands come up to shove me again, I back her into her apartment and shove the door closed with a kick of my boot.
“Get out,” she barks.
“Not a chance,” I bite back. “You’re going to tell me what the hell has crawled up your ass.”
She glowers at me. “I met your friend tonight.”
I rack my brain. No women know where I live, so this can’t be because of a woman.
“William,” she barks out, seeing me struggling.
My jaw tightens and my stomach twists.
“Did he do something to you?” I ask, closing in on her, dragging my eyes over every inch of her to see if she’s hurt. He’s dead.
A weird wretch comes from her, startling me. “Why would you ask that? You said he was harmless, decent.”
“Nat, just fucking answer my question. Did he do something?” He wouldn’t…
“He turned up at your place. I was in bed waiting for you.”
I’m going to fucking vomit. I swear to God if he touched her, I’ll be found guilty because this time I will be.
“Did you leave me there for him?” she sobs, wrapping her arms around her waist.
My heart fucking drops like stone.
“What? No, no way. Why would you think that?” I try to move closer to her, because all I want to do is hold her—comfort her—own her. But she steps back and holds a hand up to stop me. I’m going to kill that motherfucker. I forgot I gave him a key ages ago. He bitched about having to wait outside for me in view of the public one time. Fucking dickhead thinks he’s more recognizable than he is.
“He said you left me there for him. Why the hell would you invite him there? Do you know how painful it was for me meeting him like that? The man who killed Kate?”
My body deflates like a lead balloon. She’s right. And I’m an asshole.
“I’m sorry. He shouldn’t have gone there. Wires got crossed. It was a mistake.”
Her beautiful face contorts in anger. “Just another mistake? Your accidents have consequences, Ren. I can’t believe I trusted you and let you manipulate me into sharing your bed.”
“That’s not fair,” I snarl.
“No, what’s not fair is being left by you to wake up to my best friend’s killer asking to put bruises on me.” Her chest rises and falls with her rage building. “What’s not fair is for him to think it’s normal that he was meeting you and found a woman instead. Is that how it works, Ren? You work the women in and then when you’re done, you offer them to him?”
I would never offer her to him. Never. She’s fucking mine.
“Don’t say that shit,” I growl. “You’re angry, baby, I get it. But don’t make up some fucking crazy-ass story in your head to make me the villain again. I would kill William if he ever touched you. Or hurt another woman. I’m not the monster you’re trying to paint me as to alleviate the guilt you feel for wanting me. For wanting us. For loving what we’ve become.”
Her entire torso shakes with her bitter laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself. We don’t have anything. You were a good fuck. A fling. A dance on the wild side. Nothing more. And we’re done.”
“Don’t do this.”
“Get out.” She points her finger to the door.
“Nat, don’t fucking do this.”
“GET OUT.”
She’s shaking from head to fucking toe. I don’t want to leave her in this state, but I’m doing more harm than good being here. She has demons running wild in her mind and I can’t make her see that I’m not the man she convinced herself I was.
I’d never hurt her.
I’d never fucking hurt her.
I love her.
Fuck, I love her…
“Please just go, get out, get out, get out,” she screams, her tiny fist pounding against my chest.
I surrender. Against every part of me telling me to grab her and never let go I turn and leave.
Ten
A week and a half later…
I stare at the last text Ren sent me earlier today, hating the aching loneliness in my chest. Stop it, Nat. He’s a dirty bastard. Chewing on my bottom lip, I consider messaging him. But what would I say?
I hate that you let your horrible friend who accidentally killed my best friend find me in bed and threaten to do creepy shit to me, but I like your dick so it’s okay?
And your smile…
And your laugh…
And the way your eyes grow serious as you brush the hair from my eyes right before you kiss me…
Tears well in my eyes and I quickly blink them away. I like him for way more than his dick and it sucks. It sucks that I can’t just write him out of my life. To move the hell on. I’ve been obsessing over Ren Hayes—albeit in a hateful way at first—for over six months. Following his every move on social media. So when we fell into whatever whirlwind we’ve landed in, it happened fast. It was intense and vivid and real. And that’s why it hurts so much. He’s more than a nice dick and finesse in the bedroom.
We had something good going.
Or so I thought.
I read his text again.
Ren: I miss your stalking. I’ll be at Ritz Russo’s. Friday night is Talent Night. Fresh meat. I could use a sidekick.
This is the hardest part. He keeps texting me. Being his normal sweet and sexy self. And it’s hard to undo the two perfect weeks we had in my mind. A girl can only get off so many times with a vibrator and a memory before she starts to physically ache for the real thing.
I start to reply to him. Something angry and mean. Just like all the rest that won’t deter him. In the end, I stupidly tell him the truth.
Me: I miss the time we had together. I miss you. But, Ren, that’s my problem. I shouldn’t miss you or want you.
Or love you.
Ren: I see what you’re doing…
Me: What’s that?
Ren: Pushing me away.
Me: I already did that. You’re away.
Ren: No, I’m giving you your space, but I’m not done with you, Natasha. I don’t think I’ll ever be. It used to freak me the fuck out. Not anymore.
My heart does a little patter that has me growling in annoyance.
Ren: It makes me want to try harder. For the record, I’ve never had to try this hard to get the girl. But rest assured, I’m trying really fucking hard. And. I. Will. Get. The. Girl. Break time is over.
I’m trying hard to fight a smile. Smiling is definitely the exact opposite of what I should be doing. I should be scowling and cursing him. But the girl inside of me who fell hard for this boy—she’s on cloud nine. She wants the boy to get her.
Something catches my eye and I slouch down in the driver’s seat of my car. Bingo. I’ve been staking out William Warner’s office this week—it didn’t take long to find his Facebook profile through Ren’s friend list. Within minutes, I had all kinds of information about him. Even took a peek at his ex-pretty fiancée. Although, on her social media, she shows she’s in a “complicated” relationship and he’s not her friend.
He climbs into his Mercedes and pulls out of the spot. Slowly, I drive after him. His journey is short, heading straight to a familiar place. Hush. The same place where Ren touched me for the first time. When I let him, knowing full well he was my enemy.
William is in a hurry and has done a wardrobe change in the car along the way. He’s missing his suit jacket and he’s wearing a ball cap. If he thinks he’s blending in, he’s not. No one wears a ball cap with dress clothes. I climb out and trail after him. Having been here before, I know the drill. I use my membership card and slip inside. Once my card is tucked in my pocket, I pull out my phone. I start a recording just in case. You can never be too careful with people like William—especially given what I know now.
> I want to hear it from his lips. That he killed Kate. Accident, maybe, but I need to hear his account for that night’s events. And I need to know if he feels remorse. I’ll never be able to close this chapter in my life otherwise.
William walks over to the bar, orders a drink, and then heads for one of the main rooms. Where Ren was in a private room with that skank last time I was here, William seems to be on a hunt first. A chill slides down my spine. He lifts his head, searching the crowd, and I freeze.
Two black eyes and a bandage over his nose.
Ouch.
Fucker deserved whatever happened to him.
The pulse of the music and buzz of the crowd causes me to lose him. I wander around aimlessly until someone grabs a fistful of my hoodie from behind and pulls me back. Hot breath tickles my ear.
“Must be fate,” William says over the music. “I found you at Ren’s place and now you found me at Ren’s favorite hangout.” His palm slides around to my front, openly groping my breast in front of all the drunk people around us. “You’re too late, gorgeous. He’s already slipped away with a sloppy skank. But don’t worry, I can satisfy you.”
I tense, biting back my words. Ren’s at Ritz Russo’s, not here. William is a liar, I’m learning. What else has he lied about?
Kate’s sweet face springs in my mind, spurring me into action. “Can we talk somewhere private?”
William presses his mediocre erection against my ass. “I’ll lead the way.”
The urge to call Ren is strong. And the thought that he’s my go-to person is even more surprising.
William walks me down a corridor and then into a small room. A man sits at a desk, tapping away at a computer.
