Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
“Tommy wants to do a double.”
“With who?”
“Lux, you’ve met his cousin, Stan.”
I toss my hands into the air, giving up. “Aliyah, I’m over first dates at the moment.”
“Okay, so you’re not into Stan. What about . . . Deon? You haven’t been in a relationship for over a year or out on a single date for only God knows how long.”
As she mutters about Arnold, I whack the crosswalk button. “I went out on a date—”
“Gimme the details!” Aliyah expels all on the same breath. I roll my eyes heavenward. This is why I didn’t tell her about Victor. I knew she’d get too excited. “Good lawd, was it with the British guy! Move over Tom Hardy, Tom Hiddleston—damn, all the British Toms!”
“Let’s just say the best part of the date was his accent.”
“I knew it! That’s why I never step out on the broth—”
“Learned my lesson, bye!” It’s a cringe-worthy hang-up, but I need a couple of breathing exercises and a good stretch. I enter the gym, where the instructor’s hips twirl to warm-up music.
Aw, crap, Zumba. Getting into position, I reluctantly follow the beat.
“Hey, Lux.”
At the faintly familiar voice to my left, my eyes snap over. In a room full of exercise maniacs who are catching the beat, I’m the only woman not dancing. My eyes narrow on Suyoung.
What . . . the fuck? I watch as the slender whacko slowly catches the beat of the song. Dumbfounded, I wonder two things: One, if she’s honestly as oblivious as she appeared last night when waving me over after trying to steal Victor.
Two, this one might be an odd musing, but was the mole on the bottom of her chin there yesterday?
16
VICTOR
“Who the bloody fuck is this cunt—Ellen?” I grit out, pinning my little brother beneath a deathly glare. Powerful hands rest dormant at my sides as the first light of day glows over Graham’s disheveled face. “Speak now because if you were any other wanka, your life would cease to exist.”
If he were another bloke, I’d have not made such a daft inquiry. Graham would simply lay dying in a pool of his own blood. But the chap is of the House of Tudor. More importantly, the sniveling arsehole shares the same life source.
“I was sleeping!” The extra blankets fall from his soft frame. Dressed in a pair of boxers, he climbs to his feet and away from the couch.
“The cunt, Ellen!”
“Oh, you don’t recall Ellen?” Graham gestures, hands outstretched. “Well, Luxury’s payback for Ellen. One sweet girl for the other.”
“You already said Luxury was payback for whoever this cunt Ellen is while returning here shite-faced last night. It’s by divine province that you’re alive, Graham,” I scoff.
“Ellen had the biggest, blue eyes. Surely you remember her now, brother?”
“Doesn’t every third or fourth woman?” I argue as Burt makes quick work of rearranging the living room. He’d offered my brother his bedroom last night, but I wouldn’t think of it.
Still peeling his eyes open, he murmurs, “Ellen . . . had hair of spun silk.”
“Sounds like every other woman that I’ve had. Who’s the cunt?” Flexing my fingers around Graham’s throat, I raise him off the floor.
“Perhaps you should speed to the conclusion,” Burt says in a nonchalant tone as he pours three Earl Greys.
“Perhaps you set out one too many teacups,” I retort.
“Well, forgive me. The advice was for your brother. At any rate, I’ll oblige you, Victor, and drink Graham’s tea for him.”
Although Graham’s grasp at reality is fading, incredulous eyes land on Burt. My forearms thrust against his chest as I unhand his throat. Graham staggers toward an end table. Unable to gather his bearings, he falls onto his useless arse.
“You placed Luxury’s life in jeopardy.” I advance on him, one Italian loafer after the other. “Perhaps you were knackered at the lounge. Did you forget the sign, little brother?”
Massaging his throat, he hisses, “No. I simply believe your presence is Luxury’s greatest threat. Assassins, my arse. Your actions hurt Luxury more than any physical wound.”
“He may have a point there,” Burt mutters from over my shoulder.
“Yes, I do have a point! My point is one innocent woman for another.” The edges of Graham’s mouth cork as if he’s chuffed to bits by his decision.
“Who is the cunt that has you beside yourself?” I squat down.
“As I said, Ellen was beautiful, and she was all mine until you—”
“Until I fucked her, yes, of course. Proceed.” Or did I fuck her?
“We attended prep school together—”
“Well then, I retract my statement, Graham. I’ve not rammed my cock in the cunt, or any other fuckable holes of the big, blue-eyed Ellen. Pray tell, was it blonde hair or raven? Perhaps red spun silk?”
Looking up, he gives a begrudging, “Golden.”
“Alright, golden hair. Wasn’t me, mate.” Now, I’m beside myself, having a laugh at his expense.