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“What did you do that for?”
“So you can remember who you belong to.”
“I belong to me, Lucas,” I say back to him, my eyes locked on his.
“Wrong. You. Are. Mine. And if you think any other man will be touching you, think again. I’ll tear him limb from limb and make you watch.” He smirks, then hands me my cell phone back.
“You’re all kinds of fucked-up.”
“Why, thank you. The compliments you keep throwing at me do so much for my ego.”
“I’m sure you don’t need that ego stroked in the least. I’m sure you do that enough yourself.”
Sergio coughs from the front seat, and I see him trying to hide his smile.
“This may be true, but I do enjoy keeping you around.”
“How nice. Did you enjoy keeping around the other women too?” I tease him.
“No, just you.”
“I can officially die a happy woman that I, a hooker from a shit neighborhood, has caught your eye and kept it…” I pause for dramatic effect, “… for the time being. How lucky am I.”
“Don’t call yourself that,” he commands.
“What? A hooker?” I ask. “I was. Or have you conveniently forgotten?”
“I have not. Your past seems to remind me, though.”
“What’s that meant to mean?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he snaps.
And his whole demeanor changes.
He’s now angry.
At me?
27
Lucas
We pull up to the house and I see my car sitting out front. Sergio shakes his head when he realizes whose house it is. Chanel gets out and walks around the car until she’s next to me.
“Did they want you to find it?” she asks, confused. “It’s just sitting there, parked in the driveway.” The all-white house and the empty yard make it look like no one is home as the lights are off, but we know better. I enter through the gate with Chanel behind me and stalk up to the door, knocking three times with force.
The door opens, and there she stands.
“Angela.” She bites her bottom lip and then glances at Chanel. Her nose lifts in disgust before she opens the door for me to walk in.
“Just you,” she says.
“You don’t get to call the shots here, you know that.” I grab Chanel by the hand and walk her in with me, with Sergio following closely behind. Angela leads us to her living room, and she sits on one of the sofas, picking up her glass of red wine.
“I would offer you one, but I’m sure this isn’t a social call.”
“You are correct, this is far from social.” I can feel Chanel’s eyes on me, but I keep my focus on Angela. “So—”
“You never called me back,” she interrupts. “I had to get your attention somehow.” Chanel tenses next to me. “You obviously know what a good lover this man is, correct?” Angela’s eyes are on Chanel, but Chanel gives her nothing in return.
Smart girl.
“Angela, you suck cock. It’s what you’re good at.” Her eyes flare, and she squeezes the glass in her hand a little tighter. “Don’t try to tell yourself otherwise. You sucked Keir’s, then you came to me. Who’s next?”
“I should have lit your car on fire,” she remarks, her knuckles turning white.
“That would have been a bad move. I would have come in and killed you immediately.”
“Fuck you,” she spits.
“Again, you’ve tried that. Are you that lonely without your worthless piece of shit of a husband here anymore?” Keir killed her husband for betraying him, but it wasn’t the betrayal that pushed Keir over the edge to kill him. It was the fact that one night at a club, Romarc had gone up to Sailor and spoke to her.
That was Keir’s breaking point.
Romarc also thought he could kidnap Keir’s bitch of an arranged fiancée, Paige. But again, he didn’t care until Romarc came near Sailor. Then all bets were off.
“You know he’s mad at you,” I inform her, referring to Keir.
“He can fuck off.”
“Now, now…don’t get your knickers in a twist.” I shake my head slightly. “You know if he walked up those stairs and was at your door, you would take him in a heartbeat.”
“You killed my men,” she screams at me.
“Why were you making trouble, Angela? Did you want me here? Or maybe it was Keir you wanted here.”
She stands, throwing her wine at my face. “I hate you.”
“I feel like all the ladies say that to him,” Chanel pipes in, it’s quiet but everyone heard the words. I turn to face her and see her shrugging. “What? It’s true. Do you have any friends?”
“You’re my friend.”
“Lies. I am not.”
“Okay, well, you like it when I fuck you.” I hear heels clacking away from us as I stare at her. How can she mesmerize me so much? She bites her cheek, and I lift my hand to touch her lip. “Stop biting yourself.” Her cheek pops out and she looks at me as if she’s truly seeing me. “You do it when you’re nervous or lost in thought.”
