“Do you think she’s fucking Anson?” I finally choked out. I watched her on the news and in gossip rags. Nothing ever suggested she was with him. In fact, it was quite the opposite.She was recently linked to Riley Parker of Fatal Promise, the band she toured with.
I’d watched that pretty motherfucker peacock his way across the stage on YouTube videos. Women were practically tearing their panties off to get to him. Rumor had it he’d broken up with his girlfriend, wife, or some shit. I didn’t know. I only knew what I’d read in gossip rags and online.
He was close to my girl.
And I was not happy.
“No,” he said. “I don’t. I don’t think her life leaves much room for dating.”
“Not even that singer?” I grunted.
Enzo looked out the window at the city. “It doesn’t matter. She’s not my girl any longer. She is free to do as she wishes.”
I kicked the coffee table and swore at him. He dragged his gaze back to me.
“Let her go, Cole. I have.”
“You’re a fucking asshole.” I backed away, shaking my head at him. He didn’t say a damn word. Instead, he just went back to looking out the window.
Irritated, I went to my room and closed the door before I settled at my desk and opened my laptop.
Enzo had changed. When we were younger, he was playful and fun. Now he was a moody, violent prick who lacked a sense of humor.
E wasn’t too far behind. He was always serious. To be fair, E had always been serious. Now, his focus was on Riot, teaching him things, doctor appointments for him, and pulling a trigger without blinking an eye. Plus, he just got his PhD, and consulted a lot at Mayfair on their research projects.
I at least liked to listen to the fucking pricks scream before I pulled the trigger.
Irritated by everything, I checked social media to see if she’d posted any updates.
“Damnit,” I muttered, seeing nothing new.
I drummed my fingers on the desk for a moment before I sighed and navigated to Anson’s social media.
I rarely looked at his. He was professional as fuck, and never had anything interesting to say.
Glaring at his profile picture with him in a dark suit and a stupid as fuck black turtleneck, I shook my head.
Fuck, I hated that guy.
But at least he wasn’t fucking my girl. Not that I could see anyway. The moment it came out that he did, I’d lose my fucking mind.
My Rosebud wouldn’t do that to me, though. She knew I hated that prick.
That’s what I kept telling myself.
I would assume if they were in a relationship, that shit would be plastered from here to fucking China. Bishop being in a relationship would be a huge deal. Right now, there were only rumors of her and that pretty boy from Fatal Promise.
Rumors. No images. Nothing.
For now, I’d let him live.
I scanned Anson’s page and found nothing interesting. He was doing some scouting for new clients. You could submit to his new agency. He had dinner at some fancy restaurant and took a picture of a dish I had no idea the name of. There were pictures of him with famous people.
And some with my Rosebud.
I swallowed as I stared at her pretty face. She was thinner than I remembered her being. Her long red curls had only grown. They hung well past her waist now. The front was dyed blonde.
I liked it.
