Page 23

I stumble upstairs to my bedroom, desperate to escape from the orgy that just started in the hot tub, needing some silence to clear my head, when I spy Aubree rushing to the bathroom without even noticing me. The straps of her dress are pulled down her arm, a peek of pink lace sticking out, and tears streaming down her face. This motherfucker . My eyes snap to my bedroom, my very open bedroom, and I storm toward it without pause. Ben is inside, sneering at the box of expensive watches on my shelf as I enter, no doubt cursing me to that god of his, but it’s the devil he should be worried about. A devil which right now burns with fury inside of me, and it’s all directed at him.

“Can I help you, pastor?” I snap in question, pushing the door all the way open until it slams against the wall, and he startles slightly, before straightening his shoulders and turning to me.

“Yeah, you can stay the fuck away from my girlfriend, she doesn’t want you,” he snaps, taking a measured step toward me, and I don’t hide my smirk. Just try and hit me prick. I fucking dare you.

“Is that right?” I ask, ensuring I push the amusement I’m feeling into my tone, as I prowl toward my desk, bringing us closer together.

The sniveling little dick side steps, so he can put space between us without making it look like he is backing away from me.

Pathetic little fuck.

“She was fucking fine until she came here and you got in her head,” he continues, still slowly backing away from me until he’s closer to the door, and I move to lean on my desk, sensing this rant may take a while. “But it stops now, I won’t fucking have it. Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for her? How much fucking work I’ve put in? And now I’m finally getting somewhere, so I won’t have you coming along and wrecking everything. She’s fucking mine, she belongs to me.”

His words have me flexing my fists in response, as he talks about her as if she doesn’t have her own fucking free will, and I would give anything to slam his head into the fucking wall, just to get him to stop talking. She belongs to him? Like she’s a piece of fucking property. Even if she were, he wouldn’t be able to fucking afford the taxes for the damn building, let alone be worthy of owning her.

I’m not stupid, I know his type, I’ve seen it a hundred times before. The so-called good guy, the ones who think because they bide their time and wear a girl down, that it means they deserve something. Well it’s fucking bullshit. Women don’t owe men shit. Not after one conversation in a bar, and not after three fucking years in a relationship, and it’s time this spineless little fuck learned that lesson.

“And what would it take to let her go?” I ask, pushing off my desk, noting the way his eyes narrow in confusion, but also intrigue.

“Nothing would make me let her go,” he snaps a little too quickly, but his words don’t match up with his body language.

“Come on, you're a smart man, pastor, and I’m a rich one. A very rich one, and everybody has a price.” I pair my words with the grabbing of my checkbook from my desk drawer, as Ben stares at me silently, patiently, and with nothing but keen interest. “Ah, I see I have your attention now,” I muse with a smirk. “I’m sure something as well known as my net worth isn’t lost on you,” I add, flicking open my checkbook and pulling out a pen, as movement catches in my periphery, but I keep my focus on him. “Come on, Ben, name your price, what’s she worth to you?”

We remain in a silent stare off, him no doubt wondering how serious I’m being, and me waiting for the pathetic little twat to give me a pitiful number.

“So I name a price, any price, and you will pay me to leave her alone so she is free for you to take?” he asks in confirmation, and my jaw ticks from grinding so hard.

“Any price for you to leave her the fuck alone,” I confirm, slowly losing my patience, and the stupid wanker smirks, as if he thinks he’s won something.

“You’re going to pay me so you can have her,” he scoffs, like he thinks I’m as desperate as he is, and I grind my jaw in anger. Let me have her? Fuck. I’m about to use this pen and slam it down his throat, never mind write him a fucking check.

“No you sick fuck, I want to know how much it’s going to take for you to give her up and leave her alone, she deserves better,” I force out, willing myself to remain calm.

“And what? That’s you?” he laughs mockingly, and I mildly wonder how much it would cost to make him disappear. Surely Duchess knows someone.

“It sure as hell isn’t you, now give me a number, no strings attached. Name it, and it’s yours.”

“A hundred thousand,” he snaps far too quickly, not even bothering to truly think about the fucking offer. I mean clearly, because that’s fucking pocket change for me, and if he had half a fucking brain he would know that.

“One hundred thousand dollars, and you will break up with her and never call her again?” I confirm, needing him to understand what I’m asking.

“Deal,” he confirms with a sly grin, as she lets out a gasp at his agreement, and his head snaps around toward the door as she enters.

“A hundred thousand dollars? That’s all I’m worth to you,” Aubree asks, her voice breaking as she storms inside, and Ben instantly tries to move in her direction.

“Bree,” he says her name with a plea, but she stumbles sideways away from him, throwing up her hands to stop him in his tracks.

“Don’t, just don’t,” she chokes out, unconsciously moving closer to me, and I don’t hesitate in bringing myself to her side, something Ben tracks instantly.

“You knew she was listening?” he accuses, and I don’t bother hiding my intentions, glaring at him like the pathetic, tiny-dicked little prick that I know him to be.

“I thought it was time she saw your true colors,” is all I reply with a shrug, and his glare hardens, as he flicks it between us, back and forth, before he settles on Aubree.

“This is what he wants, Bree, what he’s clearly been trying to do since you met him in that fucking bar,” he seethes, his tone a little more desperate now he realizes what’s at stake, but she remains unwavering.

“This isn’t about him, it’s about you, us,” she forces out with a shake of her head, as she tries to gather her thoughts. “It took me coming here for me to see that we don’t work, not really, and I can’t pretend we do anymore,” she sighs, and I can see the fury burning in his stare.

“What? So you’re ready to throw three years down the drain, just so you can take off your ring and spread your legs for him?” he spits, and I feel her slight flinch at his harsh words.

“Watch it, dick,” I warn in a deadly tone, and I swear I see some of the tension ease out of Aubree’s shoulder as I come to her defense, but Ben only scoffs.

“Can’t you see what he’s doing?” he snaps, but I can tell from the look in her eyes that the ship of perfect Ben has well and truly sailed, and when she remains silent he laughs humorlessly. “No, of course not, you’re just as desperate as all his other whores,” he spits, and this time she flinches even harder.

I move to take a step, but Aubree’s hand is on my arm in an instant. “Don’t, Alexander, he’s not worth it,” she says calmly, yet I feel anything but calm.

“What? And you think he is?” he laughs again in disbelief, but I see the moment his anger turns to something more, as he straightens his shoulders and sneers. “Well, I guess it’s good I’ve been fucking Malorie for the last seven months then, all because you were too much of a prude to let me into your sad virgin cunt.”

This time his words land like a physical assault, and I can tell from her reaction that, unlike me, the thought of her boyfriend and best friend has never crossed her mind, but it doesn’t matter. My fist is already smashing into his jaw before she can even let one tear fall, swinging his head to the side and knocking him to the floor, but it’s not enough. No, I’m on top of him in the next second, plowing my fist into his face over and over, until his blood is coating my knuckles and Aubree is screaming my name.

“Alexander, stop, please,” Aubree cries, as Archer and Daemon appear in the doorway of my room, still pulling on their clothes.

Archer is the first to react, rushing toward me and pulling me off the prick who’s now bleeding out on my fucking carpet. “Easy now,” he grunts, dragging me away and back to my feet, as Daemon’s eyes fly over to Aubree, silently checking to make sure she is okay.

“I’m fine,” I tell him, inhaling deeply to try and pull myself back from the edge, as Ben scrambles up and grips his nose. “Get this piece of shit out of my fucking house,” I add, the anger still rolling off me in waves, as I smooth my hair back and roll out my shoulder. Archer moves to grab him instantly, Ben trying to fight against him, but then Daemon is there too, grabbing him firmly, but right before they pull him from the room I storm forward and fist his shirt, pulling him toward me. “I’d have paid ten times that you worthless prick,” I seethe, flexing my bloodied knuckles against his chest. “Come near her again and I’ll fucking ruin you.” I shove him away from me on the last word, and the guys don’t hesitate in dragging him from the room without pause.

My attention is back on Aubree in the next second, taking in her tear-stained face, as pain and regret slices through me. She needed to know what he was really like, but there were better ways to do it, not that it matters now. I erase the space between us, gripping her face between my hands, and pulling her glossy eyes to meet mine, before I remember the blood now coating my hands.

“Aubree, I’m sorry,” I start, not sure what I am really apologizing for, as I pull my hands from her face, cringing at the remnants of red I have left behind. “Shit, sorry.”

Aubree opens her mouth to say something, just as the heavy bass of music thumping from below disappears completely, and she pauses, as we both hear Nova telling everyone to get out. There are some groans and grumbles from party-goers, but I can hear enough shuffling and clanging to know that people are leaving.

I’m not sure how long we remain there, just staring at one another quietly, but it’s long enough that I can no longer care about the blood on my hands, as I reach up and swipe away the tears that are still flowing. The movement pulls a hiss from the back of my throat as pain coasts along my knuckles, and for the first time Aubree breaks our stare-off, letting her gaze take in my now bruised and bloodied hands. With a slight split, it’s a mixture of both mine and Ben’s blood, and I can’t help but think that must signify something.

I open my mouth to apologize again, but Aubree cuts me off. “I’ll go and get some ice for your hand,” she sighs defeatedly, and for the first time since I met her, I can’t decipher the look in her eyes.

It’s not annoyance or anger, grief or sadness, it’s just completely blank and indescribable, she turns on her heels to leave while a bitter feeling slams into the center of my chest, because I may have just saved her from a doomed relationship, but I also might have ruined everything else between us in the process.