Page 16 of Climbing Everest

Everest

“ I t was either him or you.”

I blink. Then blink again, all the while trying to completely ignore the stinging tear of my flesh under the nonstop buzzing of the tattoo gun. This fucking thing is going to be huge. There will literally be no way for me to hide it except under clothes.

I’m pretty sure that was exactly why Brix chose the design and location; to paint my skin with his ownership. Making a public spectacle of me isn’t enough, plastering the news of my engagement to Kato Antoniou isn’t enough.

No. Now I’ll have this huge glaring reminder front and center on my chest.

I know why he chose across my chest instead of down – no way would the ink have stayed vibrant over the raised scarring of both the original initials and the savage ruin of those beautiful displays of commitment and love.

There’s no love in Brix’s eyes as he looks down his nose at me, his big frame making the chair he’s reclining in look so small.

“What the fuck does that mean?” I ask, not bothering to lower my voice. Because Brix sure as fuck didn’t whisper when he announced in front of who is apparently his former lover that Kato had killed his own father.

I’m not sure which new fact has me more confused.

Nah. That’s not true. I’m confused over the new information that, apparently, Brix isn’t picky when it comes to his bedmates.

Confusion isn’t the right word for how I feel about Brix’s declaration.

“Why the hell would he kill his own father over me? What possible reason could he have had?”

He blows a breath out through his nostrils, shifts a little in his chair, and he almost looks uncomfortable. Almost . Maybe agitated is a better word.

As I stare at Brix, his top lip curls up in a sneer and his formerly warm brown eyes turn almost black with anger.

“I’m honestly trying to decide whether you’ve become the best fucking actress on the planet or you’re that fucking stupid.”

Oh, this cocksucker.

I tense to lunge forward before remembering there’s a needle jabbing in my skin a hundred times a second. I’m not so much worried about wobbly lines as I am about my skin getting all ripped up.

“You know what, asshole? I’ve really, really tried to be patient with you.

With all three of you. I actually fucking missed you guys, and I tried to protect you.

In the meantime, you’re being complete fucking dicks, treating me like I’m a stranger, like I kicked your fucking puppy.

Is this fun for you? Are you sitting there hard because your boyfriend is hurting me? Because my tits are out?”

I yank the sweater away, making sure to be fully exposed to the room.

“Why not invite everyone in the shop in here? Let them see, too? If you think that’ll humiliate me, think again. I’ve done far worse for far less.”

His chest expands as he inhales deeply. A deep groove has formed between his dark brows, and his tan skin is a little…darker. Like all the blood is rushing to his head before he blows his top.

Whatever. He’s been nothing but pissed since the moment I realized who was in my apartment. He’s treated me like trash from that first second and all I’ve done is try to warn him, to warn all of them that my mere presence is nothing short of a death sentence for all of us.

Actually, they really haven’t given me much of a chance to say shit. Every time I try, someone grabs my throat or cuts me off or finds some way to shut me down.

“B,” I start, lowering my tone and softening my expression the best I can with the anger, fear, and confusion burning so red hot in my veins. “I didn’t run away. I would never run away.”

“You just happened to, what, fall onto the abortion doctor’s gurney?”

“What?” I ask, my brows slamming together. “You think I had an abortion?”

He doesn’t answer, but his brows are pulled together so tightly there’s a shadow over his eyes and a muscle keeps jumping in his jaw. If he clenches his teeth any harder, he’s going to end up cracking a fucking molar.

Inhaling deeply and looking down at Nico, I catch him glance up at me, over at Brix, then back down to my design. If he has a problem with me showcasing my tits to the room, he doesn’t comment.

In fact, I’m not sure he’s even glancing at my nipples, only focusing on the task.

“Do you really want to have this conversation in front of your boyfriend?” I whisper.

Nico pulls the needle back and barks a laugh. “Oh, sugar. Not his boyfriend. Never have been. And, no offense, big guy, but never will be. I’m not really into the whole monogamy thing.”

So they had only been lovers, and I have a feeling the only reason it was brought up was for the shock factor.

Why would I be shocked? I’m not sure there’s much that can rattle me, but I bet I could make both these men blush if they knew the things I’ve done to survive the past few years.

“I didn’t have an abortion, B, and my father thinks I’m dead. The second Kato announces that I’m not only alive and breathing but with you three…”

I leave the rest hanging because he isn’t a stupid man. He knows exactly what kind of man my father is, because Christos Antoniou is – was – practically a carbon copy. Except he gave a shit about Kato because his son was the next in line to take over.

I was nothing more than a pawn, a paycheck, someone my father could use to gain more control or combine forces with an ally.

And when he realized I had not only fraternized with his enemy but was possibly carrying the next heir to the Antoniou empire, I had become disposable.

Brix leans forward again, his elbows resting on his knees as he clasps his hands and stares directly into my eyes.

He doesn’t prompt me to speak, doesn’t rush me. In fact, he almost looks as though he’s ready to call bullshit on anything I might say.

Nico pulls away and does something with his gun before setting out various colors. Well, shit. Looks like we’re far from done. I’ve been trying to refrain from showing how much it stings, but I’m not sure how much longer I can hold back.

Brix has tattoos running from his fingers up his arms, and there are some peeking from his collar. I can only assume his upper torso is covered as well.

I’m finding it harder and harder to stop imagining him shirtless. Or naked and on top of me with all that muscled beauty pressing me into the mattress.

He’s so much bigger than when we were kids, his shoulders so broad, his arms the size of bowling balls, his pecs like a fucking barrel. He’s big and formidable, and mouth wateringly sexy.

Yet still so fucking infuriating, especially when he huffs out an impatient puff of air.

“E, what the fuck happened? You owe us that much after what you put us through.”

“What I—” I bite the words off. Because apparently, my guys have believed for four fucking years I killed our child and ran away for some unknown reason. “First of all, why would you think I would ever run away? What part of that night made you think I wanted to be anywhere without you?”

“Your father.”

I wait. Then wait some more. When he doesn’t elaborate, it’s my turn to huff an impatient sound. “My father what? He told you I ran away?”

Brixton’s eyes flit to Nico, then back to my face.

“Okay. How about this, why the fuck would you think I would abort our child after I was so excited to tell you three I was pregnant?”

His brows raise in a silent explanation.

“Did my dad tell you I aborted the baby? That I ran away?”

He dips his head once.

“Motherfucker,” I grumble, dropping my head against the paper covered pillow, the crinkle loud so close to my ears. “That’s not what happened, B. And I can’t believe after everything you would believe I would have ever willingly walked away from you.”

Tears well in my eyes again, and I no longer have the energy or give a fuck to wipe them away as they trail over my lashes and roll hot down my cheek.

Nico sighs when a tear drips onto his work.

“Maybe we should finish this another day. The outline is done. The color is going to take a few hours,” Nico says, looking at Brix, not me.

Because of course, I have no say in this. I have no say in my life. I never really have.

Brixton is still looking at me, but nods at Nico’s words. He pulls his wallet from his back pocket and hands over a black credit card. Of course, all three of them probably have them now since Kato is officially head of the Antoniou crime family.

Nico leaves the room and I pull the sweater back up to cover my nipples because this moment feels far too intimate. I might not have minded getting naked for strangers, but that’s because I was able to make them background noise. Sometimes I would pretend they were my guys.

But it almost seems like Brixton is willing to actually hear me out, to listen to me, to let me explain why I had to leave, and it had nothing to do with my lack of love for them.

I left because I loved them more than my own life.

When Nico returns, he hands the card, a receipt, and a pen to Brix then starts adding cream and some kind of sticky plastic over my tattoo. “Try to keep from washing it today. Keep it moisturized. I’ll give you something to use on it so it’ll heal clean.”

The whole time he talks, it feels like Brix and I are locked in our own little moment until he finally glances down, scribbles his signature on the receipt, then pulls out a wad of cash and hands it to Nico.

“I’ll call and set up a day to get her finished,” he says as he unfolds his six-seven frame from the chair and takes my sweater from my hands, holding it so I can slide my arms into the holes.

As his hands pull it into place, his knuckles graze the sides of my boobs, sending a shiver down my spine and making my nipples harden instantly.

“It was good to finally meet you, Everest,” Nico says before offering a hand to Brix and dragging him into one of those overly masculine back slapping bro hugs.

I don’t know why, but there’s a brief second when I wonder if they’ll kiss goodbye.