Page 9 of Climbing Everest

Brixton

U ntil a few hours ago, I had no idea it was possible to fully hate someone while loving them to the point of pain.

Oh, but those fucking feelings are more than present now, especially after seeing her face again this morning, after letting my eyes devour every inch of her naked body…

After seeing the way she’d mutilated our initials as though she tried to erase us, erase everything we’d had.

Or at least what I thought we had.

Yeah, I fucking hate the bitch, and I’m looking forward to making her pay for everything she put us through, for everything she took from us.

My fucking heart still beats so hard and fast at the mere thought of her.

I don’t know why, but a part of me thought maybe time would have changed how I felt, or maybe changed how she’d look in my eyes.

She was beyond pretty now. So curvy. Her tits are fuller than I remember. Her hips are wide, her ass round and soft.

And she apparently waxes her cunt for work. As a fucking stripper.

Everest looks the same but doesn’t, and she’s not who I fell in love with as a fucking kid.

Do her parents know she was shaking her tits in strangers’ faces for money? That she offers happy endings in the back room of that fucking club?

Yep. Every single second of the encounter had been reported to us before the confirmation video had been sent to my phone while we waited at a hotel at the edge of town.

The disgust I’d felt watching that video of her shaking her ass and tits, staring into the camera, using her body – the body the three of us still owned regardless of how far she’d run – sent rage burning hot through my veins.

I’d had to remind myself over and over that we sent the guard in there to keep from snapping the motherfucker’s neck the second he stepped into our hotel room.

She’s just two doors down from where I sit on the edge of my bed, my jaw aching from how long I’ve been clenching my teeth.

Kato is still waiting on the results from the blood Nick drew last night. He swore he would still keep her locked away even if she’s carrying some STI, but I sure as fuck won’t be putting my dick anywhere near her.

No matter how hard I’ve been since the moment she stepped into that rat infested one room apartment, then walked from the bathroom naked.

She’d spotted my silhouette in the shadows but hadn’t known it was me and for some reason, the thought of watching her like that had sent nearly every drop of blood rushing to my groin.

I think it was the fear rolling from her in waves, the tremble in her voice. A part of me wants to put her through that shit again, and I can’t say whether it’s for the way it makes my dick hard as stone or because I simply want to torture her.

Although…

When Kato grabbed her by her throat and cut off her breathing and voice, I’d had the strangest and most conflicting emotions crash through me. I was equal parts enraged at the way he was treating her and jealous it wasn’t my fingers crushing her fucking neck.

Sounds make it to my ears through the walls as she first argues with Karolos, then slams the dresser drawers and closet door over and over, as though she thinks she’ll either garner the attention of one of us or maybe she’s dispelling the frustration she has to feel over this situation.

The first, she obviously accomplished since I’ve been attuned to every single sound coming from that room since I carried her in and laid her on the bed. The second…

Yeah, that shit makes me smile.

Frustration will be the easiest of the emotions we intend to elicit from her.

The rules Kato continues to come up with make me smile.

Especially the thing where we each get to choose what she wears every day.

I haven’t really checked out all of what Kato ordered for her, but I saw what Madd picked for today, and I’m dying to see her traipsing around with her tits half hanging out, the slits on the long skirt all the way up to her hips, the belt wrapped around the middle the only thing to keep her from flashing the room every part of her.

Why bother? The whore apparently didn’t care about strangers watching her wiggle her ass, she didn’t care about sucking off some stranger in the back room.

What’s the point of feigning modesty now?

I don’t give a shit what Kato says – I’m picking what she wears tomorrow, and she’ll be lucky if I let her wear a bikini around the house, regardless of the temperature outside.

Then the staff and guards would see her body, as well. And as much as I want to humiliate her and regardless of the fact hundreds – maybe even thousands – of men have not only seen but touched her tight little body, I’m not sure I can contain my possessive urges now that she’s back in my life.

She’ll be Kato’s wife, but she’ll belong to all three of us, no different than four years ago. I plan on making my own claim on her, finding a way to make it permanent and this time, she won’t have the chance to carve it up and defile it.

“But it’s my money!” I hear her screech from next door.

Not only has her body changed, but the look in her eyes is different, darker. World weary.

That sweet girl we had all fallen head over heels for has been replaced by a woman hardened by the life she chose over us.

She’ll definitely need that armor for the life we have planned for her. And fuck yes, I’m on board with keeping her knocked up as often as possible with our kids. Unless we get a paternity test, there won’t be much way for us to know who fathers the kid, but does it really fucking matter?

Pushing to my feet, I storm from my room and down the hall, those conflicting emotions of wanting to see her belly round with my son or daughter and wanting to throttle her for what she put us through forcing my body to move.

Karolos dodges out of my way as I near her bedroom.

Kato leans against the wall beside the door, his arms crossed over his chest. “Technically, it’s mine.”

“Not all that money in the bag was from your little spy.”

My nostrils flare as I inhale deeply and glare at her from the doorway.

No. Not all that money was given to her by the lower-level guard.

Some of it was tossed at her or shoved into her thong before she’d ended up naked on that stage, spreading her legs to show the world what has always belonged to me.

Kato pushes off the wall and closes the space between them, his hand raising to her face. To her credit, her only reaction is a tightness around her eyes. She doesn’t even flinch or raise her hands to defend herself.

But all he does is stroke the backs of his knuckles down her cheek. “Oh, sweetheart. What’s mine is yours…and what’s yours is mine.”

I can’t see his face from where I stand, but I can hear the cruel smile in his voice. I can tell by the fire in her eyes that she’s seconds away from lashing out and burying her knee in his balls.

Her chest is rising and falling with deep breaths, that dress Madd chose barely covering her nipples as it slits all the way down to the beltline.

She’s done something to the sides, tying them between her thighs to keep the hem from dragging.

Fuck. I still want to cross the room, grab the sides, and yank them apart. I want to palm those tits, remind myself how they feel in my hands.

I want to bend her over the bed and split her in two, leave a reminder of me in her cunt for the rest of the day, ruin her, break her.

Then piece her back together until all she knows is me, until she can’t take a single breath of air without feeling me in every cell of her body.

Balling my hands into fists, I let one side of my mouth curl into a smirk when she looks past Kato to me, and I can see the moment she thinks she can play us against each other.

There was a time I wouldn’t have denied her anything she asked. If she wanted the fucking moon, I’d find a way to drag it from the sky. If she’d asked me to cut off a leg, I would have hacked away at it and delivered it to her in a satin lined box.

That time is long gone.

“Will you please help me talk some sense into him? You guys don’t want me here. Trust me.”

“Trust you?” I say, my voice low, deep, then the anger takes over and I’m stalking toward her, matching her step for step as she backs away. “Fucking trust you?!” I bellow, bending until I’m right in her face.

My hands are still fisted, and for the first time, I’m fighting the urge to hit a woman. I might shoot one in the head if the situation is warranted, but I have never and will never be the kind of man who would beat on a woman half my fucking size.

“Food’s ready,” Madd says from behind me, completely oblivious to the tension permeating the air as Everest and I glare at each other.

She might have backed away as I approached her, but she’s standing her ground, and her little fists are tightly balled like she’s ready to throw down if I do anything.

I could snap her fucking neck with one hand before she could raise one of those fists, and she knows that.

Or maybe she doesn’t. While she knew Madd and I were being trained and groomed to be goons to Christos Antoniou and guards for his son, she has zero idea what we’ve been through, nor the fucked up shit we’ve done since the day she walked out on us without so much as a fuck you or a single explanation.

“Damn. I picked a good one,” he says from behind me, his steps shuffling closer. “Where the fuck are the heels? Why did you make it look like a diaper?”

Everest’s eyes stay on mine, even as Maddox approaches and kneels at her feet, lifting first one foot then the other to slide on the tall, spiky shoes like she’s fucking Cinderella, then fixes the dress so the hem grazes the floor.

“Are you two going to fuck? Otherwise, dinner’s ready,” Madd says.

He grabs Everest by the bicep and practically drags her away from me and out of the room.

“I can walk on my own, asshole,” she says, yanking on her arm in an attempt to free herself.

“Yeah, well, the last time we let you walk away on your own, you killed our baby and ran away like a fucking coward. So now, you get an escort,” Madd says as Kato and I follow the two of them.

“I didn’t…” But she doesn’t finish her sentence.

What the fuck could she possibly say? What type of argument, what kind of lie could she possibly offer? She knows damn well we’ll see through it and call her out.

We might have loved her once, but we had never held back from calling her out when she was being a brat.

Now? I’ll call her out every time she’s being a bitch and I’ll enjoy punishing her every single fucking time. Especially if I can make tears well in those pretty gray eyes.