Page 158 of Making Choices

Feeling the side of my head burning, I glance in Sander’s direction. My twin shoots us a speculative look from his comfortable seat in his account manager’s office, and I give him the same toothy glare I hit Mr. Grin with a minute ago.

He visibly flinches, then looks away.

I snort.

Fuck men.

Not one of them is worth an ounce of my time.

Well, Sander might deserve a couple minutes today since he’s unwittingly acting as my decoy. Still, considering that over the past few months, the only time I don’t have Isaiah or Wyatt on my arse is when Sander’s around, my sentiment stands. My twin brother has been attached to my hip like a barnacle, and it’s been a little irritating... until it came in handy today. With the patched Shamrocks avoiding me like I’m the plague, it was fortuitous to discover that Sander had an appointment with his financial adviser at the very branch I needed to visit to get my hands on the down payment for my apartment.

The one my new realtor hasn’t shown me in person.

Yeah, I know... buyer beware and all that.

But living with Slash is untenable.

We’ve barely spoken in months.

Since our thing after the concert.

“You know I’m right,” Nadia murmurs. She links her fingers with mine. “You’re being headstrong... and not in a good way.”

“It mightn’t be my most sensible decision, but I’ve got to get away from him.”

“I understand where you’re coming from... still think you should talk to him first, though.”

Heart in my throat, my voice is strangled as I tell her, “He hates me, Nads.”

My best friend nudges her shoulder against my upper arm. “No, he doesn’t.”

“He does—”

“Shit,” she cuts me off and pulls me in a half-circle to point at something. “Sander’s riled up.”

Spying my brother stomping toward us, I ask, “Do you think he knows?”

“About the apartment?”

I nod.

“Not unless your twintuition has ratted you out.”

“Funny.” My brother’s belief in our ability to read each other’s minds isn’t a theory I ascribe to—which Nadia well knows. “Maybe he’s found out that you’re seeing someone else?”

“He wouldn’t care.”

My twin’s rapid approach halts our conversation before I can correct Nadia’s assumption.

“Cherub,” Sander says my name in a terse tone. “Needa show you somethin’.”

“Okay.”

“Wait here,” he orders Nadia when she moves to follow us. “This’s family business.”

I’m about to tell him where to jam his rudeness when I register the distress he’s trying to hide. “What’s wrong?”

“Fuckin’ Brutus.”

---