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Chapter Thirty-Five
MADDOX
Turning away from the bar with my glass of scotch, I walk across our living room to the poker table we have set up for Saturday’s game night. The pool table is to the left, and the speaker system, which is built into the apartment, blares with rock music. The shades are up, letting in the city lights and moonshine. One of our friends is relaxing on a big leather sofa behind the table, watching a game on the TV while he sips his beer and eats some of the leftover takeout we ordered earlier.
The chandeliers are lit above us as I pull out my chair and sit, sipping my scotch as the cards are dealt. Alistair sits opposite me, with Rogan to the right. Andrew is on my left, and next to Rogan is Leonard. We trust the men who are here tonight more than any others. They manage our…investments, in a sense. Andrew is in charge of security, Leonard manages the streets, and Lynx, who’s on the sofa, runs the clubs. It grants them certain perks in our life, like tonight. They are welcome in our apartment, unlike most others, but I could still shoot them without hesitation if they betrayed us.
That’s my job, after all.
Taking another sip, I relish the burn in my throat as I put my glass down and resist checking my phone to see if my pet has replied. I know she fucked Rogan, we all do, and the feeling of jealousy pulsing through me is intense. I wish it had been me, but she couldn’t handle my…desires yet. Doesn’t mean I’m not imagining what that wet cunt would feel like around my dick like Rogan got to experience. I texted her earlier to check in, because it’s her day off and I haven’t seen her. Rogan assures me she’s fine and relaxing, binge-watching films and eating in her pajamas with her dog. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to see her for myself though or get her response. I’m almost antsy with the wait, and if she doesn’t get back to me soon, I’m going to march down there and tan her fucking ass for making me worry.
Shit, is that what this is?
Worry?
The fucking woman has gotten under my skin, and that realization angers me, causing me to grip my glass so hard, it nearly shatters in my hand. Shaking my head, I concentrate on the game as I check my cards. I refused to think about that woman anymore. She’s driving me insane. Never before has a pussy gotten me in such a temper, nor my brothers for that matter. She’s just a cunt I need to stay away from until I can control myself again and stop giving in to my primal urges whenever she walks into the room.
We didn’t get this far in life having weaknesses, and it’s clear Rory O’Brien is quickly becoming mine. She makes me lustful, angry, and possessive—things I can’t afford to be. She isn’t ours, as much as we act like she is. She’s a passing amusement. Maybe if I fuck her, I can finally get it out of my system and these warring emotions will be a distant memory. Not to mention my competitive nature is rearing its head and wants to keep up with Rogan…maybe even do one better.
Fine, I’ll fuck my pet.
I’ll fuck her out of my system and then get back to running this fucking city and leave her tears and feelings to my softer brothers.
I put a card down as Rogan grins and winks at Alistair. It’s clear I missed some of the conversation while I was lost in my thoughts. “Best pussy I’ve had.”
My eyebrows rise, even as I shake my head, not wanting to speak in case I throttle them both. Can’t we have one night without that sexy ass distraction coming between us?
“I don’t think I’ve seen your new toy—I mean, personal assistant,” Andrew teases as he draws a card.
“And you fucking won’t,” I snarl jealously as I glare at him.
He laughs but holds his hands up to show he didn’t mean anything, knowing not to piss me off. He might play around with Alistair, and even banter with Rogan, but he knows better than to fuck with me.
“Fuck off. I can’t believe you fucked her,” Alistair growls out and turns away, snorting that shit he’s high on. I narrow my eyes. It’s going to fucking kill him one day. You would think he would know better after watching our parents’ demise, but clearly not. We all inherited their addictive personalities. Rogan turned his obsession to numbers and knowledge. I focused mine on honing my body and becoming the best I could… Alistair? He gave into it. Pussy, drugs, alcohol, cars—all of it and more. But it’s been getting out of hand recently. Rogan and I share a look. We are tired of his erratic behavior. One of these days, I’m going to knock some sense into him. He wipes his nose and turns back, acting like nothing happened.
I look back to see Lynx doing a line on the coffee table, but I don’t care about them as long as they can still fucking work. “Don’t start this shit,” I snap.
“You’re just jealous, brother,” Rogan teases. “Jealous I got to feel that tight cunt on my dick while I made her scream, watched her writhe in pleasure, and marked her with my belt…” He licks his lips as if in memory.
“Shit,” Alistair groans. “I want that.”
“Shit, so do I,” Leonard jokes, and I snap my gaze over to him. I’m about to knock him out when I see Alistair’s eyes narrow and anger fills those depths. Leaning back in his chair, his shirt open, he plays his hand, and we all watch as he takes Leonard’s money, a clear fucking sign he’s pissed and teaching him a lesson.
“Guess you’ll just have to imagine it with your hand,” Rogan retorts as he shuffles the cards.
Alistair gets to his feet, the chair screeching back as he stumbles. Eyes wild, hair mussed, and chest heaving, he looks fucked up, too fucked up. Shit, how much has he had? His fists come down on the table, making the chips jump with the movement. “I’m going to fuck her,” he slurs.
“Like hell you are,” I snarl.
“Want to bet?” he replies, wiping at his nose before he grins.
I narrow my eyes, but I can’t resist the bet. “Fine.”
“You’re on.” Rogan chuckles. “Ten large?”
“You’re on,” he agrees and straightens, tugging at his shirt, which only opens it wider. He turns away before coming right back to down his drink, and then with a wink, he walks away, but he’s almost swaying as we watch him go. In spite of his feigned confidence, I can see the pain in his eyes. The despair I once saw in my mom’s gaze.
When the doors shut, I look at Rogan, not saying it out loud. No matter how much you trust them, you don’t talk smack about business partners or family in front of outsiders.
Rogan nods, and I know we have just agreed to keep an eye on our brother and get involved when we need to. I don’t mind him having fun, but killing himself isn’t allowed. He can fuck, kill, and cheat the whole city…but death?
Dixens don’t die.
I feel sorry for Rory having to deal with his coked up drunk ass, but then I almost laugh. Shit, no I don’t. I feel bad forhim, because she’s going to knee him in the balls.
“All in,” I call with a grin, knowing my pet can handle herself.
