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“The answer to your first question depends on who you ask,” I tell him, watching Kailyn slam the heavy truck door between us. “And meds never worked on me—I gave up on that shit a long time ago.”
“Yeah, well—maybe you shouldn’t have.” Beside me, Damien reaches up to swipe a rough, calloused hand over his face. “Whatever you’re thinking, you can just forget it. Kait’s been through hell these last couple of years. The last thing she needs is some rich, out-of-town asshole swooping in out of nowhere and—”
“She asked me for a favor, remember? You both did.” I hate the way my voice sounds. Entitled and dismissive. Like both of them are beneath me and I suddenly want to punch myself in the face.
“Yeah, well, you don’t have to worry about it,” Damien tells me. “Forget either of us even said anything. I’ll figure it out.”
“How you gonna do that?” I ask, finally turning away from the pissed off woman in the truck. “You said yourself that this place catches the only Wi-fi signal—”
“You don’t listen very well, do you?” Damien barks at me. “I said it’s one of the only places—there are other places Kait can work. I’ll figure it out. She doesn’t need you.”
She doesn’t need you.
As soon as he says it, a black, snarling thing reaches up from the pit of my stomach and grabs me by the throat. Something mean and ugly that jams itself into my chest and makes it impossible to breathe.
Jealousy.
It’s only a guess because I’ve never actually felt it before but since the black, ugly, snarling is accompanied by the sudden urge to kill my own brother, I’m guessing that’s what it is.
Jealousy.
Which is completely crazy considering the fact that I’m feeling it over a girl I just met and was actively trying to upset and offend, less than ten minutes ago.
“I already said she can work here,” I remind him in that same dismissive tone. “You don’t have to get shitty about it.”
Damien laughs because he knows as well as I do that he’s not the one getting shitty in this conversation. “I don’t want her here and I sure as hell don’t want her to model for you.”
“You’re doing it again,” I warn him through clenched teeth. “Implying things that make assumptions about my character. I don’t like it.”
“You said it yourself,” he shoots back. “Davino Fiorella is your father.”
“He’s about as much my father as he is yours,” I remind him. Davino never had much use for monogamy or the children his string of failed marriages produced. About the only one of us he’s shown interest in is Silver.
“Maybe...” Damien, glares at me like he’s angry at me for reminding him who his father is. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want Kait around you—not if you’re going to just make her life miserable every chance you—”
“Are you into her?” It’s not me who asks. It’s that black snarling thing lodged inside my chest, working me like a puppet because even if the boss’s daughter looks at him like a brother, that doesn’t mean he looks at her the same way.
Damien stares at me for a moment like he’s trying to figure out why I’m asking. “No. She already told you that we—”
“She told me you two aren’t fucking.” I put it bluntly because that’s who I am as a person. “I’m asking if you want to fuck her.”
“Jesus Christ, there’s got to be something wrong with you...” Damien shakes his head on a sigh. “No, Went—I don’t want to fuck her.”
“Then why do you care if she models for me or not?” He told me the truth, I know he did—like I said, Damien’s always been a terrible liar—but I still ask because I still don’t get it.
Damien’s gaze narrows on my face like he can’t understand why I don’t. “Because I care about her, just not the way you mean.”
For some reason, hearing him say it shames me.
Reminds me of Delilah and Silver—the only siblings I have that I’ve ever really been close to—and how I’d react if some asshole treated them the way I’ve treated Kaitlyn.
Shame.
Another emotion I’m not used to feeling.
This girl’s really putting me through the ringer.
“Okay.” I give him a quick head bob before turning away from him to look at the woman in the truck. She’s staring straight ahead, a slightly vacant look on her face like she couldn’t care less what my brother and I are talking about.