Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 68309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Serena …
The prenup …
“You never loved her.” I’m not asking.
He lifts a shoulder. “I mean … I thought I could learn to love her. She was a nice girl. A bit vanilla in the bedroom but the sex was good enough. We could’ve had it fucking made, Cain. If she would’ve just—”
“—you mean you could’ve had it fucking made,” I correct him. “She would’ve been shackled to an unfaithful prick who only married her because he wanted her family’s money.”
“Unfaithful prick?” He scoffs. “Little harsh there, don’t you think? And why are you acting so protective of her? She was my girl. Not yours. Oh, wait. That’s right. I remember. I asked you to keep an eye on her for me and you let her fucking fall for you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I saw the way you looked at her at my dad’s funeral. Every time she thought I wasn’t paying attention, she was staring your way. Then I busted you two outside, alone, at your party. And then magically, as soon as we get back to Phoenix, she dumps me and tells me she’s moving to New York. I’m not a fucking moron.”
“If you didn’t trust me, why’d you ask me to keep tabs?”
“Maybe because a part of me did trust you. You’re my best fucking friend, Cainan. Didn’t want to think you’d stoop that low.”
“Stoop that low?” If that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black …
“Or maybe you just wanted to get me back.”
I fold my arms. “Get you back for what?”
“Mallory,” he speaks the name of my ex from college, a girl I dated for three years before she had a pregnancy scare, admitted the baby wasn’t mine, and found herself immediately single. In the end, she miscarried, losing the baby and the guy she supposedly “loved more than life.”
“What are you saying …?”
“Oh, come on. I know you know.” He rolls his eyes.
“It was you?”
“It was a mistake. A one-time mistake. And I felt like shit about it after … I thought she told you?”
My jaw clenches so hard it sends a throb to my temples. “Do you honestly think I’d forgive you for fucking my girlfriend of three years?”
“Well … yeah. That’s what brothers do.” He chuffs.
“You’re not my fucking brother.” The words are a hoarse growl in my throat. “Not anymore.
I moved on from the Mallory incident a lifetime ago, but I never forgot how eager Grant was to help me pick up the pieces when I moved on. He personally saw to it that I was never empty-handed come the weekend and that I never went too long without a gorgeous piece of coed ass to numb the pain and forget the betrayal.
“You knew I didn’t know,” I say.
He shakes his head, nose wrinkled, looking every inch the part of a liar.
I see liars all the time in my office. People like him that think the rules don’t apply to them. Who forget how to be a decent fucking human being. Who act like their wants and needs are above everyone else’s.
“All you ever do is lie,” I say. “But I can’t even be mad at you right now. I can only be mad at myself for looking the other way all these years. For making excuses for you. For thinking our bullshit brotherhood trumped the fact that you’re just a shitty asshole in an expensive suit.”
All this time, I could have been pursuing Brie. Instead, I tormented myself, convincing myself that Grant’s happiness mattered more than mine.
Now I know that had the tables been reversed, the bastard wouldn’t have hesitated a single fucking second before making his move.
“You’ve changed, Cainan. You’re not who you used to be,” Grant turns up his nose. “Sometimes I feel like my best friend died in that accident … because I don’t know who the hell you are.”
“Fuck you.” I turn to leave, intending to grab my duffel, find another hotel room in a different hotel, and book the first flight back to Manhattan tomorrow.
Only before I take a second step, I catch a surprise left hook—and everything fades to black, nothing but a soft voice whispering in my ear.
Elay-fay-por-twah …
Elay-fay-por-twah …
Elay-fay-por-twah …
I wake to two paramedics in blue uniforms hovering over me.
“Hey, there,” one of them says. “You gave us quite the scare.”
But the words play on a loop in my head.
Elay-fay-por-twah …
Elay-fay-por-twah …
Elay-fay-por-twah …
There’s no music.
No girls.
Not even Grant.
Elay-fay-por-twah …
Elay-fay-por-twah …
Elay-fay-por-twah …
My head throbs with the intensity of a Mack truck.
Elay-fay-por-twah …
Elay-fay-por-twah …
Elay-fay-por-twah …
I couldn’t begin to make sense of that if I tried—it’s not English.
Hell, for all I know it’s a made-up language.
The paramedics sit me up.
“Easy does it,” one says. “You’re going to have one hell of a shiner. Nice little souvenir to take back with you. Not everything that happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas …”