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Our hideous nature doesn’t need clubs to cover up our vices or give us the freedom to showcase them. We do whatever the fuck we want and wherever the fuck we deem appropriate.
I stroll back to the bar where Santiago and Florian stand, leaning on the counter while drinking tequila. “What the hell was that?” Florian asks, and I shake my head, snatching whiskey from the nearby tray and drinking it in one gulp as my friends share a long look.
“Problemas de mujeres, amigo?”
“I don’t have women trouble,” I snap at him, sending him a warning glance because I fucking hate him acting all high and mighty. He's deemed himself an expert in relationships since he got married.
He kidnapped and then blackmailed his wife to marry him while threatening to kill her father because he wanted the girl, which hardly makes him an expert on anything, although she did fall for him.
“Are you sure? It looked like it from our angle.” Florian grins, winking at me. “There’s always downstairs.”
The floor below holds our meeting room, and individual fuck pads are always available if the mood strikes us.
Well, except Santiago’s.
He renovated his and never touches his wife there. There was something about her being special and all. I think after getting married, he didn’t even enter it once, hating just the memory of anyone else but his wife.
We don’t bring women home. In fact, we don’t do anything with them in public.
Dates. Relationship. Wooing, just the thought is laughable.
Only one-night stands, and the guys are always honest about their intentions.
We are not sane or normal, so unless we’re obsessed with a woman, she presents no interest to us.
“Right on schedule too,” Santiago says, barking a laugh. “I’m surprised your woman of the year is not here.” He motions with his head in Isla’s direction. “Or is she the one?”
“One more word, Santiago. And my fist will leave an imprint on your pretty face.” Amusement flashes in his blue eyes, and he raises his splayed hands. “She’s nothing but a nuisance.” The words taste bitter on my tongue, and I reach for another glass, despising myself for tarnishing Isla like that in front of them, but what choice do I have?
Until I eliminate the danger around her, I have no privilege of being near her, let alone showing an ounce of emotion.
Florian’s brow rises. “Oh, I see. I guess that’s why you almost killed poor Steven.” Sarcasm drips from his tone, and he pours himself more tequila. “Could have fooled me.”
Zeroing my gaze in on him, I hold my best friend's stare and fire my own question at him. “Is this what we do now? Talk about our personal lives. Maybe we should discuss yours.” He stills, his eyes narrowing on me, and a silent threat hangs in there, not that I give a fuck.
He started it.
We don’t question each other in front of Santiago and Remi. We’re always a unit, yet here he’s siding with the guy instead of having my back.
Santiago chuckles, rubbing his chin with the glass. “What’s there to discuss? He’s a whore. Who’s going to grace your bed tonight, amigo?”
Florian tenses, an unreadable expression settling on his face while he drums his fingers on the counter. He closes off whenever anyone mentions women to him or brings up his less-than-stellar past.
A man who once claimed to fuck his way through Chicago loathes his reputation now. “I’m not in the mood.”
“Since when?”
Florian grits his teeth, his hold on the glass tightening, and if he puts any more pressure on it, it will crack in his grip. “Why do you care? Jealous?”
Santiago winces in revulsion. “Por supuesto que no.”
“Then mind your business, Santiago. Who I fuck is none of your concern.”
Except there hasn’t been any fucking done on his part since a certain forbidden someone confessed her feelings to him and kissed him.
When Santiago finds out just who occupies Florian’s head, made him a monk for almost four years and forced him to play the part of an interested whore just around him while refusing any proposals thrown his way, he’d be livid.
In fact, I dread the day he discovers the truth and just how many people deceived him in order to hide Florian’s secret.
