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I slide into the driver’s seat. “I don’t even care at this point.” I had thought about the day that Wicked would come home multiple times over the years. They all played out differently in my head. But not even I could think up what just happened.
I start up the car, looking out the window to catch him with Sloane on his lap, her legs wrapped around his waist and their mouths on each other.
I wince.
“I’m sorry, principessa,” Val murmurs softly as I put the car into drive and floor it forward.
“Don’t be. I’ve got my life back now that Papa is back.”
“Partly…” Val interferes. “Since you are engaged to be married in a month.”
I swallow the bile rising in my throat. “Yeah. I guess.”
Sloane rubs her ass into my crotch and I pull back, staring up at her. “Go with Jade and Poppy.”
“But am I staying with you tonight?” she whines, running her finger down my neck and over the tattoo on the side.
I move away from her slightly. “Nah, you can stay with Roy.” I tap her away and she follows Jade through to the back of the clubhouse. I’m trying to keep it right since it’s Jade’s friend, and I’d be lying if I said Sloane wasn’t helpful when it came to pissing off Ruby, but my dick is bored. Now that I have my son to think about too, everything has changed.
“We all staying at your hotel?” Royce asks, dropping down onto the chair beside mine. “Everyone’s at the barn, helping burn it to the ground.” I can smell the burning flesh and metal from here; he didn’t have to say a fucking word. “You alright?”
“No,” I answer honestly, reaching over the bar and grabbing the first bottle my fingers land on. “I think I’m fucking cursed.”
Royce chuckles deeply, taking the bottle of some cheap whiskey off me and wrapping his lips around the tip. “Nah, man. You’ve just found your curse. There’s a difference.”
“Fuck. I can’t be a dad, Royce. The fuck? Me?”
When he doesn’t answer, I shift my seat to face him. “The shit I’ve done?”
“No offense.” Royce swipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “But I’m going to go right ahead and say that his mother has done worse.” I ignore the cut through my chest at the mention of Ruby. Fuck, if she isn’t everything I despise. The only problem is that I don’t.
“It has been years since I had seen her, bro. And every bitch I fucked after her didn’t exist in my head,” I say low, under my breath. “I knew the second I was inside her that there would be no one walking this earth powerful enough to replace the way she felt around my dick.”
Royce barks out a laugh, smacking me on my back. “Well, shit. You know you’ve scared the shit out of the brothers and girls with how you’ve acted since she’s been around. Seen a whole new side to you. One I don’t think any of us expected.”
I kick out my feet, bringing my eyes to his. “I wanna throw her on a level…”
Royce pauses, the bottle an inch from his mouth. “She’s fucking hot, I get that—and if you tell Jade I said so, I’ll deny it—but I can’t be in on that game, brother. You know I’m dicked down.”
I raise my brows at him, my mouth curving into a smirk. “I wasn’t asking you to be joining. Don’t get jealous.”
Royce scratches the bridge of his nose. “Khaos?”
Flicking the lid to the bottle, I nod. “Yeah.”
“You sure?” Royce asks carefully. “I mean, he’s young and has already spoken about her on numerous occasions. He’d be like a dog in heat with all that.”
I stifle a laugh. “She’s getting married, I’ve just got to make sure it’s my dick she’s thinking about when he’s inside her.”
“Damn. Would really love to be a part of this.”
I spend the next two days with Royce, casing out the new L’artisaniant in Chicago. I think deep down, Royce just doesn’t want to leave. I flat-out don’t want him to. Having another L’artisaniant isn’t hard to open or operate. We have been in this business for a long time and have people lining up to be employed here. Some come from home, others we gauge from here. Having it on the upper level of my hotel helps. The hotel my parents left along with the trust fund. The trust fund I couldn’t touch until everything came out.
Pushing open the doors that lead into the club, I stop at the threshold, seeing the dark marble walls and mirrored ceiling.
“Looks good,” Royce says from beside me, and we both make our way to the bar where Orson and Storm are. Storm is now some hot-shot coding genius and Orson plays professional basketball.
“This might be better than the one in San Fran…” Orson looks at me from over his glass, staring down the girl behind the bar.
