Page 131 of Sinful Bride

She presses a kiss to the top of my head. “So what’s bothering you?”

“Nothing.”

“Okay. You just went out and drank a whole bar’s worth of alcohol over nothing. Mhm.”

I lift my head to look at her. It’s dark, so I can’t really see her that well. I’m not sure I could even if the lights were on. My vision went foggy somewhere between drinks three and nine.

“What about Mak? Sofi?”

Daphne cups my face in her soft hand. “What about them?”

“The fuck do I tell them? How do I tell them?”

“I’m not sure there’s anything to tell, my love.”

I scoff. “Oh, yeah, nothing at all. We have different fathers and I’m not even the true heir to the Chekhov line. Nothing noteworthy, eh?”

“Well, I mean…” She grows quiet for a moment. “How do you know you have different fathers?”

I freeze.

That never occurred to me.

Daphne guides me back down to her warm breasts and starts stroking my hair. I hug her to me, grateful for the only anchor in this world I trust right now.

“Get some sleep, my love.” She kisses my hair again. “And in the morning, maybe you can ask Mama about all those visits Arlo made when you were little.”

I’m so glad I’m drunk all to shit.

There’s no way I’d be falling asleep otherwise.

46

PASHA

“So now, you’re the one avoiding our meetings?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and pray my hangover migraine will stop throbbing. “You’d have to actually schedule a meeting for me to avoid it.”

Brennan glares at me, slamming the door to my office shut. Between his shouting, the slamming, and the disrespect, I’m extremely tempted to shut him the fuck up.

Permanently.

“Cut the bullshit, Chekhov.” He practically spits every consonant. “You got me in deep shit and you’re gonna get me out of it, you hear me?”

“I’ll hear you a hell of a lot better if you lower your goddamn voice.”

“Your ears got a problem, huh? Well then, how’s your vision?”

He slaps down photo after photo of me speaking to Smithson and his agents when they corralled me on the side street. Another set of printouts shows me speaking to Smithson’s superior outside this very building the day they arrested him.

“I’m under investigation, you son of a bitch. You sold me out! Now, I have to explain to them and the public that no, I am not accepting or dealing bribes!”

One bullet. That’s all it would take. I won’t even need a glass of water. One bullet, one shot, and this headache is gone.

But if I’m not in the mood to listen to Brennan’s stupid theories, I’m definitely in no mood to deal with cleaning up his brains off my carpet.

“Scott,” I sigh, “if you don’t sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up, I’ll have security physically escort you out of this building. After I give a call to the nearest paparazzi hub.”

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