Page 117 of Brutal Truths

How dare he?

The guilt I’d felt for blowing him off that night—gone. Burned out and replaced with something far more dangerous.

“You okay?” Aiden’s hand lands on my knee.

“Not really.” My jaw tightens as the words come out. “Did you catch who the guy with Drake was?”

Aiden’s frown deepens telling me he did.

The answer tastes sour. “My fucking ex-friend. The one I hooked up with years ago. We ended things because neither of us had time for more. Or… that’s what I told him.”

A humorless scoff follows. “Truth? He was a lousy lay. And way too obsessive after we fucked.”

“Can we not discuss that? I don’t want to hear about your extracurricular activities,” Antonio grumbles next to me. “You’re talking about the arse kisser, Quentin Drake?”

Esteban leans forward, clearly unimpressed. “He reminded me of Winnie’s sisters before they matured. Snobby. Only interested in what you could do for him.”

Aiden frowns, thinking it over, then he snaps his fingers. “The skinny, nerdy-looking knob. Kept pushing up his glasses like that made him look smarter. The way he looked at you made me want to snap him like a twig.”

That’s him.

Quentin was never impressive. On the thin side. No muscle, no presence. Forgettable. Nothing that made me look twice. The kind of man who mistook proximity for power. The opposite of Aiden. Not even in the same league.

The difference is almost laughable. Quentin couldn’t hold my attention, let alone keep it. And in bed? He was average at best. Something I tolerated more than enjoyed.

Now that I know what real chemistry feels like, what real control looks like, there’s no going back. Even if for some crazy reason Aiden and I don’t work out, Quentin wouldn’t cross my mind for a rebound.

Not after this. Not after what he’s done.

Lane reads what I assume is a text from his phone. “Pauly says Quentin is the son of Dr. Donna Hemsworth and Dr. Reginald Drake. Reg is the oldest of four. He has two sisters, Roslyn and Rebecca, and a brother who was disowned, Rodrick Bogdan Drake.”

“Explains why he’s just Drake.” Not a horrible name, but not one he’d want floating around his mafia circle. “Bet he got his arse handed to him growing up.”

“Funny you should say that.” Lane clicks his tongue. “Rodrick was arrested at thirteen for beating two classmates nearly to death. One never fully recovered. Spent a good chunk of his teenage years cycling through young offenders. At eighteen, he was arrested for murder. Walked free after Trent Doyle secured his legal counsel. After that it’s a long list. Petty theft, armed robbery, assault, domestic violence. Chargers never stuck.”

A brief pause before he continues. “Family cut ties before he turned twenty-one. Revoking his trust fund.”

Aiden falls back in his seat, bored. “Heard it all before.”

“Good for you.” I kick him in the shin. “Some of us haven’t. Maybe you’ll learn something new if you just listen.”

His hand wraps around my ankle, a slow grin spreading. “Did you just kick me? You’re pushing it.”

“Please stop,” Lorenzo grunts next to him. “What games you two play in private, keep them there. Unless you want a beat down.”

“And who’s giving it to me?” Aiden tilts his head as if it’s a challenge.

“Me,” Lorenzo doesn’t even blink. His eyes are as lethal as I’ve ever seen him. He’s deadly serious.

“Lorenzo dabbles in MMA,” I add, unable to resist. “Sixteen years ago he kicked the shit out of Rueben Del Markov after he dishonored his wife.”

Still feels like it was only yesterday.

“No offense, Lenny,” I say to my brother, giving a quick glance to Aiden. “But my man is ex-special forces. Not the same easy target Rueben was.”

“Can we get back on track?” Antonio shakes his head. “What’s the plan? Because right now this feels like a mess.”

Silence answers him.