Page 89 of The Billionaire's Secret

"Jesus Fucking Christ," I growl.

"Don’t take the Lord’s name in conjunction with a profanity," Edward admonishes.

"Sorry, Father. How many Hail Mary’s should I say to repent?"

"None, this time," Edward looks down his nose at me, "but you can tell us what’s got you all aflutter."

"Aflutter?" I choke.

Damian laughs. The others snicker.

Weston flushes the urinal, then walks over to wash his hands, "How else do you explain your running out on us earlier, only to surface locked up in a restroom, jerking off?"

The room explodes in laughter.

"You walked in on this wanker wanking himself off?" Arpad chortles.

"Fuck, that’s funny." Damian smirks.

"You caught him diddling?" Weston chuckles.

"Stop. Shut your fucking traps!" I roar.

Silence descends.

Then Edward snorts, "Ever seen Saint lose his shit?"

"Shut up, Father, before I tell them how I saved you from humiliation in a public loo on the wrong side of the tracks."

Edward pales.

The others fall quiet.

"You never did know your limits did you, Saint?" Weston growls.

"Shit, I’m sorry." I dig my fingers into my hair and tug on it. "I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. Can you guys forget I blurted that out?"

"No need to apologize," Edward squares his shoulders, his stance rigid. "No big secret. After the incident, I went through a phase of trying to rediscover my sexuality. Let’s just say, I didn’t make the smartest of choices and Saint here, saved my arse."

"It’s nothing." I roll my shoulders, "Yeah, I found him in a compromising position, but hell, we’ve all been there. We were all in some fucked-up space after the incident, and hell, if we each didn’t make mistakes in trying to figure out our shit."

"Is that what she is? Your mistake?" Weston’s voice is calm.

I squeeze the bridge of my nose, "No." I lower my arm, then scan over the faces of the men who are my brothers by dint of the blood we’d spilt together. "And therein lies the problem."

"What’s the problem?" Damian drums his finger on his chest, "You like the chick? You keep her."

"I can’t."

"And I thought I had problems," Edward snickers. The priest, the one among us who is the kindest, who’d never stoop to the level of the others, takes a dig at me.

"I deserve that," I rub the back of my neck, then begin to pace.

"I thought the fake marriage was the way to keep tabs on her whereabouts, except..."

"Except?"

"The danger is closer than I expected. I ran into her with a man whose reputation is bad news, to say the least."