Page 35 of From West, With Regret (NYC Billionaires #2)

TWENTY-TWO

WEST

Holt is sitting at the end of my bar, with a half-drunk beer, staring blankly up at the TV hanging above the door that leads to the upstairs closet, which now serves as London’s studio.

Wearing a simple, white button-down shirt, he has the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and I can’t help laughing under my breath as I make my way toward him. He looks out of place sitting here casually with a beer, especially focused on the basketball game playing.

The Veiled Door isn’t as casual as some of my other bars, but during the day we play sports before switching them off for the nighttime crowd, focusing the attention on conversation or any live performers we might host instead.

Holt is too clean cut, more like my nighttime crowd. Neatly shaven, corporate elites, with perfect hair, dripping with arrogance.

“Feel like a bit of day drinking?” I ask my friend, laughing as I slip into the stool beside him.

“I took the day off today,” Holt mutters, playing with his half-empty glass. He spins it over the black coaster, staring at it blankly. “Just wasn’t feeling the hectic environment of the office after last night. You know?”

I nod. “Sorry I bailed.” I look down at my hand, running my fingers over my bruised knuckles. Surprisingly, they aren’t as bad as I expected them to be, considering the way I left the asshole bleeding and unconscious.

“Did the guy deserve it?” Holt asks, catching my attention.

I look up and chuckle. “I never threaten to kill someone unless they deserve it.”

He nods once. “Good.”

“So, what’s up?” I sigh, glancing around the bar. It’s a busy lunchtime. Slowly, more and more people are pouring in from the street. Piper and Lewis start moving faster behind the bar, darting from one end to the other.

“Hey, boss,” Piper interrupts, giving me a smile. “Can I get you something to drink while you’re sitting here?”

“No. I’m all set.”

“Okay.” She grins, then nods toward the staircase.

“She’s already upstairs, working.” I’m pretty sure Piper has already had her ears up that something’s going on between me and London, just like Lewis.

She has ever since London started working here, and I’ve been showing up more in the past few months than I have in the past year of owning this spot.

Piper leaves Holt and me to tend to the customer on the opposite side of Holt.

“Was she talking about London?” Holt asks.

I grin like a fucking lovesick teenager. “Yeah.”

Holt doesn’t ask any more questions, and I’m glad for it, because I wouldn’t even know where to begin. Instead, he leans forward, resting his arms on the edge of the bar top. He turns his head on a swivel and looks at me. “I came to tell you I got in touch with Emily Rapture. ”

I sit up in my seat. I’d almost forgotten I’d asked him to look into getting in touch with her.

“You did?”

“Yep.” He smiles, scratching at his chin. “She agreed to do an interview for the magazine again. I was going to put one of my reporters on it, but she told me she would only do it if it were me.”

“Really?” I can’t help but laugh. What does that mean if she’s refusing anyone else but Holt?

“Anyway.” He waves me off. “I told her I had a friend who admired her work, asked if she’d get you into an early showing, and she agreed.”

“Seriously?” I feel like I’m going to jump out of my seat, but I contain my excitement because I don’t want to look like a fucking idiot. Or scare customers away.

Holt nods and finishes the last of his beer.

He slides out of his stool and slips back into his suit jacket hanging on the back.

“The gallery opens in a few months, but Emily said she’d be willing to get you in next month.

I gave her your email, so keep an eye out for it.

” He flicks his wrist and looks down at his watch.

“I’ve got to meet someone for lunch, but I just wanted to give you that info in person.

” He looks up. “And to make sure you were all right after last night. I’ll see you later. ”

I can’t fucking wait to tell London.

“Hey,” I say, slipping out of my own stool. “Thanks, man.”

Holt’s smile meets his eyes. “No problem.”

Excitement builds inside me after Holt leaves, and I spin on my heel to head upstairs to meet London. It’s only been a few short hours since leaving her, and I already want to bury myself inside her again, just to make sure I didn’t dream up the past twenty-four hours.

“Weston Knight! ”

A chill skates down my spine at the shrill voice screaming my name.

Frozen, I don’t immediately turn around. Customers seated at the dining room tables in front of me eye the person behind me. The sharp clicking of heels fills the silence of the bar, mingling with the music playing overhead.

Closing my eyes, I sigh heavily and pinch the bridge of my nose before I spin around.

My mother’s sharp, daggered eyes are zeroed in on me as she marches down the length of the bar. She tosses her handbag on the counter, points with demand at Piper. “Vodka soda on the rocks, hold the lemon.”

Piper’s eyes spread wide with fear. She puts her head down and immediately gets to work.

“If you’re going to barge into my bar, screaming my name, you’ll treat my staff with respect.” I grind my teeth.

“Fine.” My mother groans, rolling her black-lined eyes. She twists at the hip and places her hands on the back of the barstool. “ Please .”

Piper only glances up quickly and gives her a curt nod before grabbing my most expensive bottle of vodka.

“See,” my mother muses, sweeping her hands down the front of her blouse, pretending to pick off a stray speck of dust. “I’m polite.”

“Why are you here, Mother?” I ask her, the memory of our last conversation still eliciting white hot anger within me. That doesn’t even begin to touch the hurt portion of my frustration with her.

“Oh, Weston.” She softens her voice, stepping forward. She lifts her hands and straightens my tie. “I came to tell you that all you needed to do was ask for it, and I would have agreed. No need to take it behind my back.”

“Take what?” I ask, confused .

She stops fussing with my tie and looks up at me with her hands pressed flat to my chest. Despite her bitterness, she’s still beautiful.

Her hair is perfectly styled, and the lines embedded in the corners of her eyes are evidence of years of happiness and laughter.

But ever since Heath’s death, I haven’t heard her laugh or seen her happy.

“The money.” She blinks.

I take a step back, and her hands fall away from my chest. “What money, Mom? I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“In our account.”

Again, no fucking clue.

I begin to mentally sift through all the bank accounts in my name and any that can be tied to my mother, but none come to mind. I only have my business ones and my personal accounts.

“The account I opened after you were adopted, West.” My mother scoffs, already exhausted with having to explain. “I opened a single savings account for you and Heath after you joined our family.”

“Seriously?” I ask her, the veins popping in my neck with anger. “You opened an account with my name on it and never even told me? Now you’re accusing me of stealing money from it?”

Her patience wears thin. In fact, it completely disappears. Her once simple, kind expression is now filled with indignation and hatred that’s being directed at me.

“Your brother is dead, so it couldn’t have possibly been him. I know you touched it,” she spits out, her lips curled, barring her porcelain veneers. “All of it is gone.”

I’m losing my shit. I curl my fingers into a tight fist, and suddenly I’m wishing I could drive it right into the fucking wall. But I’m not my brother, and I don’t want to scare my mother, no matter how unreasonable she’s being .

“How could I possibly touch it when I didn’t even know about it? I’m literally just finding out about this now.”

“Where is the money?” She grinds out, stepping closer to me.

“Asking the same question over and over won’t magically change the answer.

Why don’t you just ask the bank where the money went?

Someone who works there must know where it went.

” I state as calmly and rationally as possible, forcing my blood to stop boiling.

“Berating me isn’t going to get you anywhere, because I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. ”

Patrons at the bar glance over their shoulders, and I feel eyes looking up at me from the tables surrounding us. From the corner of my eye, Lewis is filling a draft beer, and he’s close to letting it spill over with how hard he’s staring at us. Piper is nowhere to be found.

“Did you give it to her?” Mom asks, nodding toward upstairs.

What the actual fuck?

“What?” I ask, not recognizing the woman in front of me. “Seriously?”

“Heath made it pretty clear she isn’t to be trusted, Weston.” She sneers. “If I find out you took our money and gave it to her”—she points an angry finger over my shoulder—“that slut –“

“Get out.”

“What did you just say to me?” Her stiff eyebrows slant dramatically.

“I said get out. This is my bar, and I won’t have you talking this way in front of my customers.

I won’t allow you to talk about London that way either.

” The oxygen gets lodged somewhere in my throat over the fact that the woman I’m kicking out of my bar has been the only mother figure to ever give me a true life.

But like I said, I don’t recognize her anymore.

Her mouth falls open, and her chin trembles. “I’m your mother.”

“That’s right. You are,” I tell her. “But that doesn’t excuse the horrible things you’ve said about me and London. Now, get out.” This time, I’m the one pointing.

Tears well in her eyes, and it takes everything in me not to cave. I want to give in, but I can’t unhear her accusations and that word that spilled from her mouth. The name she easily called London.

“I know you took it, and I’m going to find out why,” she snaps, spinning on her sharp heel. She swipes her handbag from where she tossed it on the counter and forces her way out the front door.

I stand frozen, the muscles in my arms tense as my nails cut into the inside of my palms. I clench my teeth so hard, I’m certain they’re going to crack.

My skin is hot and filled with anger. I think about my childhood.

The constant bullying from Heath. The constant hatred spewed toward me.

The competition and need to prove he was the better, more legitimate son.

I was the extra. The unwanted. The spare.

My vision turns hazy, and I think I might pass out. Forcing myself to breathe, the air sears my lungs, burning every inch of flesh.

I look around. The entire bar has fallen silent. All eyes are on me, bouncing between me and the front door.

Then I remember London.

She’s still upstairs. Waiting for me.

I leave everyone downstairs, as well as the remnants of my argument with my mother. Her accusations. Her hatred. All of it.

I race up the stairs two at a time, my feet beating against the loosening floorboards. My hand slaps against the wooden door, and it flies open, catching the attention of London.

She spins around on her toes and leans back against the shelf. Glass bottles clink and wobble as she steadies herself.

First, she’s excited to see me, then her eyebrows pull together in concern.

I don’t speak a word before closing the distance between us. I capture her face in my hands and crash my mouth against hers. I breathe her in, pulling her until she stumbles forward, leaning into me.

“I missed you today,” she says against my mouth.

“I missed you, too,” I say back, forcing the words to come out without me falling apart.

It’s painfully true. She’s the balm to my wounded soul. She always has been. She doesn’t even know it yet.

Our teeth click against each other’s, and I capture her top lip between mine.

I bite down, then slip my tongue into her mouth, finding hers.

She moans, and all I can think about is burying myself in her so deep, I forget everything.

I get lost in this world we’ve made. Not the one of our past. The one only I remember.

But this one, where we want nothing more than each other.

I’m hungry for her love. I’ve missed it.

Breaking our kiss, I pull back, cupping her gorgeous face in my hands. “I need you.”

Her mouth is red, her pink lip gloss smeared across her mouth. Hot, trembling breaths pass through the small gap between her full lips, and the look in her eyes is all I need before I’m grabbing her hips roughly, spinning her around, then bending her over.

She catches herself on the edge of the metal shelf, sticking her beautiful round ass in my face. Fisting the edge of her leggings I tug them over her two round cheeks, then I remove her thong.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her, unbuckling my belt.

“This time, I won’t be gentle. I need you, and I need you now .

” The metal clinks in the heated air as I’m slipping down my pants and my boxer briefs.

My cock springs free, and I tease her crease, rubbing against the wetness already dripping down her legs.

She looks over her shoulder and presses her beautiful ass against me. “I’m yours.”

Grabbing onto her hips like my life depends on it, I rear back and drive my cock inside her, listening to the sweet moan that falls from her mouth.

It’s then that I realize I hadn’t truly taken a breath until now.