“A gift for you, sweetheart,” I tell Sable blandly, though it’s pretty obvious to everyone that the dog recognizes Bethany.
Crawford makes a disgusted noise. He’s going to go complain to Greg and Salinger and Hunter—not all at the same time, because for three people who all grew up together, they cannot stand one another.
“It’s a Sunday night.” Bethany’s disapproval is obvious.
I shrug.
“When you’re a billionaire, every night is Friday night. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” I smile down at Sable.
Bethany turns up her nose as Sable strokes a hand down my bare chest.
My half brother nods to the guard. “Show her out.”
Shifting her bag to her shoulder, Bethany follows him to the front door.
I wait to hear the door slam.
Crawford snaps a photo before I can push the two women away.
“Salinger’s going to love this.”
“Oh my god, I can’t believe I fell for your shit!”
“Jenna?” I flinch.
She’s done a bad job of trying to clean up, and she’s wearing one of my workout hoodies and boxers.
God, I want to fuck her. Even as she stands on the top step, screaming at me, crying and furious.
“I knew it! I fucking knew it. God, I’m so stupid. You seriously wanted to sleep with me just to put a feather in your cap.”
“That’s not true.”
“All that shit about you wanting me to love you.”
I am very aware of Crawford’s disapproval. The derisive email to our brothers almost writes itself.
“That’s not what happened. Get them out of here,” I snap at Crawford, finally shoving the two women away.
Sable makes an offended noise. “I paid for an Uber Black over here.”
“I’m sure you’ll be reimbursed,” Jenna tells her, sniffling.
“We should wait until Bethany clears the building.” Crawford sighs.
“We can keep you occupied while you wait,” Juniper offers.
“I don’t think so,” I murmur, eyes still on Jenna’s tearstained face.
“Don’t wanna keep your sexy DoorDash waiting,” Jenna snaps, shoving past me.
Crawford holds out an arm to her. Like what? Like he’s just going to wrap her in his arms.
He gives her one soft glance, opens his mouth.
Before I can think, I pick up one of the expensive vases that the penthouse’s interior designer has strewn around and hurl it at him.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Crawford shouts, sidestepping the vase.
