Page 31

THIRTY-ONE

Brantley

I’m watching the Devils’ hockey game from last night because I’m feeling violent, and while I can’t go around smashing things in my apartment, watching these guys beat each other on the ice makes me feel marginally better.

Marginally.

I didn’t sleep for a goddamn minute last night, and while I don’t regret my decision to stay home…well, I don’t have to like it.

Especially when I spent every fucking second imagining my brother and my best friend mauling the one woman I can’t seem to get out of my head. Why? Fuck if I know.

But I can tell you it’s pretty damn inconvenient.

I usually spend my Saturday nights working. I know, not exactly a shocker, but it’s how I prefer to spend my time. It’s easy. Simple. And at the end of each day, I’ve accomplished countless things for my high profile clients and the firm.

Kinsley is messy. She’s a complication to my life I don’t need.

A fight breaks out on the ice, usually my favorite thing about hockey, but I was so lost in my own head, I didn’t notice until the whistle was called. I need to get it together.

With a grunt, I turn the volume down on the TV and head to the kitchen to make myself a drink. It’s almost noon, but it’s five o'clock somewhere. I have the drink to my lips, letting the taste of scotch linger when Wyatt and Maverick sweep into my apartment. I quickly glance at their rumpled suits from yesterday and down my drink in one gulp. Cheers.

Knowing what likely went down between the three of them is bad enough; I don’t need them rubbing my nose in it.

“We have a problem.” Wyatt frowns as he takes in my glass, but doesn’t say a word about it.

I match his frown with one of my own, clinking the ball of ice around my glass before slamming it down on my counter. “What kind of problem? And don’t tell me our secretary kicked you out of the hotel room. If she had, you'd have come sulking last night. And you wouldn’t look like shit.”

“I don’t sulk,” he scoffs. He glances down at his suit and attempts to brush out the wrinkles. He fails. Instead, he takes off his tie and suit jacket and tosses them in a heap on my kitchen island. “Is the apartment below yours still vacant?”

I snag the bottle of scotch, pour myself another shot, but leave it on the counter. “For the moment. I have a few more applications to go through today.”

If I can pull my head out of my ass and concentrate on something for a solid ten minutes.

“Well, don’t.”

My gaze shifts to Maverick who’s casually leaning against the island, watching me with his trademark smirk. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

My words come out a little harsher than intended, but I’m not one to play games, and the two of them are starting to irritate the shit out of me.

Maverick’s grin only deepens. “So, it turns out our secretary needed the auction money to take care of her younger brother. Her parents are dead, and I can only assume that means she’s raising her brother on her own.”

Not exactly news to me, but I keep my mouth shut. At least about that. “That’s nothing problematic. I’m sure that kind of thing happens more than we know.”

It’s a lie, one I chase with a small sip of scotch.

The look he gives me tells me how full of shit he thinks I am. “Well, she’s living in a one-bedroom apartment and is currently sleeping on the couch.”

My spine straightens, and my head snaps in his direction, my eleven thousand dollar bottle of scotch forgotten. “That’s unacceptable.”

So much for trying to forget about her. Let’s face it—it wasn’t going to work anyway, and moving her into the apartment on the floor below us isn’t going to help. I’ll see her every day at work, and even if I don’t see her in the building, I’ll know she’s close. It’ll be torture.

Yet, that’s precisely where I want her. In my building. Under my apartment.

Under my protection .

“Exactly.” Wyatt hops up on my kitchen counter, pulls out his phone, and pecks the screen. “Which is why I think we need to move them in that empty apartment ASAP. Her brother is going to be having surgery soon, and they could use the extra help during his recovery.”

“Surgery? For what?” And why didn’t she tell me about it?

“Some kind of implants.”

“For his ears?”

“I assume.”

“You’re an idiot.” I pinch the bridge of my nose and blow out a heavy breath. “Did you talk to her about this? Did she agree to leave her place?”

They glance at each other and then at the floor. Of course they didn’t.

Maverick clears his throat. “She might have kicked us out of her apartment after we insisted on taking her home.”

My lips twitch, but I keep the displeasure on my face as I stare them down. “So, let me get this straight. You went against me and won our employee’s virginity in an exceptionally shady online auction for ‘her own protection,’ somehow talked her into sleeping with you both, and now you want to show up at her apartment without an invitation and move her and her brother without her permission.”

“That about sums it up.” It’s clear these idiots are going to be following her around with hearts in their eyes for the foreseeable future.

“Are you insane? You can’t force someone to move because it’s what you want for them.” I blow out another breath, run a hand down my face, and mutter a few choice words.

Wyatt puts his phone down on the counter and pins me with a look, one that says I’m not going to like what he has to say. “Why don’t you just ask how last night was?”

Nope.

Didn’t like it.

And I’m not going to take the bait. This isn’t a conversation I’m ready to have. Especially when my feelings for her are already unwanted and unreciprocated. And while we’re at it, inappropriate.

I stalk past them, leaving my kitchen and sit down on my couch, intent on finishing the game.

Maverick is the first to sit next to me. “Don’t you want to know which one took her virginity?”

“How she looks when she’s about to come?” Wyatt sits on my other side.

“How good she feels?”

“She asked about you, you know.” I turn to Wyatt and almost ask him to continue, but I don’t need to know every sordid detail, even though I desperately want to know. But he continues despite my gaze returning to the game. “She seemed a little disappointed you weren’t there. Are you really going to let her continue sleeping on a couch when we have a fully furnished apartment available?”

Maverick hums in agreement and props his feet on my coffee table. “We own the building. It’s not like we have to run it by anyone.”

“She might like to have an opinion,” I mutter but am ignored.

“She’d be much more comfortable here, and we’d be able to help her with her brother.”

“Colin.”

His brows raise as he takes me in. “With Colin.”

They’re not wrong. Any surgery is a big deal, and she shouldn’t have to go through all that alone because life dealt her a shitty hand. I’m sure she would appreciate having us on hand. We could grab food, medicine, whatever they needed.

Am I really considering this?

If it weren’t for Colin, I would’ve told them to mind their own damn business, although their track record for listening to anything I have to say isn’t stellar.

Still, she’s going to be pissed. If we show up with a moving truck, she could call the police. We could be arrested for trespassing.

“Did I mention there’s absolutely no security at her place? No cameras. Nothing. She only has a flimsy lock on her front door. Anyone who wanted to could easily get to her and Colin while they slept.”

Well, fuck.

If I go to jail, at least I know a few lawyers I can call.