Page 22 of Vicious Arrangement (Alpha Billionaire Daddies #7)

Chapter Eighteen

NOAH

Fury rages inside me, eating at my stomach and my common sense. I’ve heard people talk about seeing red, but this is the first time my vision swims and my ears clang as red-hot flames consume me.

They were… I don’t even want to know what the fuck they were doing.

I march up to them, my gaze locked on the paleness of Aria’s face. Her startled blue eyes, pretty hair, and a dress on and not for me, because I’m not here. I read guilt in every swallow she takes as she steps away from me as I storm in.

“What the fuck did I tell you?” I ask in a low, lethal voice. “You’re married to me, so you’ll act like it and not a whore.”

“Dude.”

I ignore Asher and reach for Aria. “I don’t appreciate you letting other men throw themselves at you, or you at them.”

Suddenly, it’s no longer Aria in my line of vision, but Asher, right up close. He plants a hand on my chest, pushing me back and into the hidden fridge.

“Get the fuck out of my way, man,” I growl.

My friend isn’t smiling. “Calm the hell down. You can’t talk to Aria like that. You can’t talk to women like that.”

His words just push those flames that burn and eat at me higher, hotter. I want to punch him. I want?—

“Noah!” Joshy cries with such pure excitement and pleasure it pulls me back from the brink.

He runs in, the stupid giant dog following, and Josh throws his arms around my legs, dousing the flames.

Josh looks up at me. “We saved you a sprinkles cake!”

I pick him up and hug him close, kissing his cheek as he grabs my hair and laughs with glee. Then he cuddles in, and I hold the kid close, his little heart beating fast against me as I drop a kiss on his soft hair. “Did you have fun?”

“Yes, but we missed you, Noah. I was sad.” Then he looks at me and grins. “But I’m happy now you’re here. Want to watch Space Zoids with me? It’s the best movie.”

I almost laugh. Whatever a space zoid is sounds terrible, but I’d watch it with him in a heartbeat if… if I didn’t need to get the fuck out of there.

Away from the situation. Away from my performance.

Away from Aria.

I set him down and crouch. “You watch for me. I have to go back to work because I left something important there.” Like my dignity. “But when I get back…”

Josh nods and rushes off. I turn and leave fast, storming back to the elevator, that immediately opens as I just step out.

The kid will be passed out when I get back.

But I can’t stay.

I won’t.

And without a word to Asher or my wife, I leave.

I lean back on the corner stool at the bar of Every Second Sunday. I’m sad about not spending time with Josh, but I couldn’t… the kid would’ve fallen asleep, and anyway, I didn’t want to be there with them and the specter of my irrational behavior.

But I’m pissed off too.

They were… fucking happy. Touching.

I don’t turn into Neanderthal Man when a girl I’m banging clicks with someone else. It doesn’t happen. I don’t date. But if I’m with a lady I’m fucking and someone laughs with her, whatever.

So I’m not sure why it’s hooking into my flesh now. I really don’t know what the fuck happened at the penthouse.

I drain my glass, and as it’s Monday and not overly busy, Jace, tonight’s bartender, comes over, fills me up and moves on to serve someone else.

Shit.

Walking into my home and seeing Asher all over Aria flipped a switch in me, and I flipped out.

In all the time I’ve known him, I’ve never once thought he was putting moves on someone. I’ve also never put hands on him or he on me.

I’m being fucking unreasonable, I was fucking unreasonable. I was a grade-A ass.

Especially since I know and trust nothing is going on between them. But…

Jesus, seeing them along, laughing like they shared their own private joke, Aria laughing in a way she never has with me—not that I’ve given her a reason—and having fun drives me insane.

Right or wrong.

And I’m sure this lands on the wrong side.

The worst part is it’s my fault for deliberately not being home for dinner, but it doesn’t make it any easier, especially when I factor in the joy on Joshy’s face when he saw me.

Thing is, I didn’t go in part, because after last night and this morning, the closeness, that extra level to the sex—like it was intimate in a way I still don’t get, like it stripped me bare beyond clothes—scared me. I couldn’t handle more of that, and failing if that seismic shift was just on me.

So I stayed at work, avoiding the threat of getting closer to Aria, pretending to work and getting nothing done.

I down my drink, and after a minute, Josh comes and refills.

With another sip in me, I slow a little, letting the music in the bar move through me, the chatter and laughter shift in the air without touching me.

There are some hot girls here, some eye me. But I drift my gaze past them. I never pick up from here. I’ve been tempted before, but I’m not now. Not one of them causes a blip on my radar.

In my pocket, my phone buzzes. I pull it out, but it’s Aria.

No fucking way am I answering it.

The lights fade, and then light up.

A text this time.

Aria: There's rudeness and then there’s you. What’s wrong with you? Sometimes you’re not likeable. You owe that sweet little boy and his father an apology. They’ve left by the way. Call me back if you’ve got the balls.

Okay. I’m not touching that right now.

I place my phone face down on the bar.

And inexplicably, that rage bubbles up again. I sip the whiskey, watching a couple flirt and another argue.

She didn’t have to text and throw truths out.

I’m acting like a ball-free wonder, a castrati of special talents.

Fuck, and using both Asher and Josh to underline my behavior?

Does she think I don’t fucking know how stupid, ridiculous, and obnoxious I was?

How unfair? I’m aware my levels of likability are rock bottom right now. Tell me something fucking new.

I suck in a breath and try to calm down.

How the hell am I going to apologize for this?

When the drink’s half done, I set it down and give in to the urge to flip the phone back over.

Great, five missed calls from Asher.

I get up, put a coaster over my drink, and take my phone outside the bar where I call Asher, my jaw tense.

“Dude, what the actual fuck is wrong with you?” he says, jumping right in. “You know there’s nothing at all between me and Aria. She’s about as interested in me as she is in catching a cold. And I like her, as a friend. I like her for you. So what the fuck?”

I suck in a calming breath. “Sorry, I’m… I’m sorry, I flipped out.”

“I’m not really the one you should be apologizing to. But yeah, I noticed that. What gives? Why? Shit, man, do you like her, like her or something?”

He knows I like her, but putting it like that, like we’re fucking teens, is… I don’t know, jarring.

We’ve talked about my interest in her, how there are feelings, which to me are complications, I don’t want, but his stating this outright now, after my flip-out is a message I don’t want to hear.

At all.

So I don’t respond. Just the sounds of the bar behind me keep me company, along with people on the street smoking or heading home.

Finally, he sighs. “Is that your first thought? Run to hide in the bottom of a glass? You’re better than that, man. And you need to figure your shit out.”

In the background comes a small voice. “Can I hide in a glass? What color is it? An’ Daddy, you said a bad word. You owed me the bad candy!”

The last words are shouted with such glee that I’m flooded with shame, even as I grin.

And then I start to laugh. That fucking kid…

“Can you put me on speaker?” I ask.

Asher does, and suddenly Josh’s whisper of “I miss Noah, Daddy.” comes through loud and clear, and oh boy does that guilt hit hard.

“Hey, Joshy,” I say. “It’s Noah. I miss you too. Sorry I couldn’t be at dinner.”

“I like Ara an’ Agnus,” the kid says, “but I wanted you too. I like you, too, Daddy.”

“Thanks,” Asher mutters good-naturedly. “No, really. Glad you like me.”

Joshy squeals with laughter, and I can see in my head Asher tickling him. “Daddy, stop. I’s talking to Noah!”

“Sorry. My bad.”

“You’re silly, Daddy,” Josh says.

I bite my cheek. “I’m really sorry I couldn’t spend time with you tonight, Josh, but how about I make it up to you this weekend?”

“Fishing?” Joshy asks.

“Fishing, just you and me,” I say.

An excited yell erupts. “Can Ara an’ Agnus come too?”

That horse? “I’m not sure dogs like fishing.”

“Ara?” Josh asks, the hope in his voice vibrating over the phone. Fuck. He likes her.

I swallow over the lump forming in my throat. “We’ll see,” I say. “We’ll see.”

After I talk to Asher for a bit, he tells me he has to get Josh to bed, and he’s got work to do, and I should go home. He hangs up.

He’s right. I should go home.

I head back into the bar and take my seat, and Jace holds up the bottle. “Another?”

I nod. “Probably shouldn’t.”

“Probably shouldn’t? When has that ever stopped someone?”

“Probably never.”

He laughs, and I take a sip and hold up my empty glass.

“On me,” Jace says, “I’ll keep ‘em coming and leave you be. You look like it’s one of those nights.” And he refills the mostly empty glass.

I stare down into the now full glass, the amber liquid reflecting the low lights above the bar’s bottle selection.

It seems like most nights have been one of those nights lately, and the smart thing is to just get up, pay up, and scram.

Yeah, going home’s the smart move, but being smart is also about opening up. Because if I go home, I know I have to apologize to Aria. I’m going to have to do it at some point, but right now is too much, too… I don’t know. Too open to vulnerabilities.

“And you say that like you’re the fucking victim,” I mutter under my breath, taking a swallow of the whiskey.

I was an asshole, but I figure tomorrow I’ll still be an asshole and still sharing the doghouse with her beast.

And…

Fuck…

My asshole status is going to be debated, and my apology fall on angry ears that deserve to be angry whether now or later.

Later’s safer, so I stay.

When I finish the drink, Jace refills that, along with the next and the next. I drink slowly and steadily until it’s late enough I’m positive Aria’s all tucked up with her guard monster ready to bite me if I go near her room.

She’ll be asleep when I get home. I check my watch. It’s already eleven-thirty. Almost the witching hour when all good nurses are asleep.

I’m not drunk but close.

So it’s a good time to call it quits.

I pay the tab, drop an extra large tip and call a car to head on home to SoHo.