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“That’s not fair.”
“That’s reality.”
“Don’t you dare project your own parental issues onto mine!” I seethe.
The hotel suite goes silent.
Fuck.
Instantly, I cringe inside. That was the line, and here I am about a mile past it.
“Shit, Alistair?—”
“It’s fine,” he snaps. He glares at me before turning and striding across the suite. He grabs his clothes from where they got flung earlier by the couch and starts yanking on his pants and his shirt.
“Wait, Alistair, I’m sorry.”
“Yeah? Good for you.”
I pale when he grabs his keys off the floor and then his jacket off the back of the couch.
“Wait! Where are you?—”
“I need some air.”
My face falls.
“Hang on, please?—”
“I’ll be back once I sort through my family issues,” he snarls, yanking the hotel door open. He pauses in the doorway without looking back. “Don’t wait up.”
The door slams, and my heart sinks.
Shit.
30
ALISTAIR
“What do you think?” I grunt, nodding to Kratos. “We doing one more?”
He groans, looking as drunk as I feel as he shoves a big hand through his dark hair. “I mean…we could do one more.”
We’ve been saying this for the last three hours that we’ve been sitting in Bar Great Harry, in Brooklyn. Before that—which is the reason every single part of me hurts, especially my face—we were at the fights out in Bushwick.
I glance at Kelly, the bartender who’s been serving us way later than she should, and grin.
“Two more?” she chuckles from the far end of the bar, looking up from her book.
“Please and thank you.”
I drop my eyes to the book in her hand, which looks like the LSAT textbook to prep you for law school.
“You want to be a lawyer?”
She nods as she pours Kratos and I two more whiskies. “In a perfect world.”
“Cool, I’m hiring. I can’t work with my existing associate anymore. Personality conflicts.”
