Page 89 of Chase

“I want fucking all of it!” my father snaps. “This little jackass took everything from me, him and his band of vigilante bastards. My home, my businesses, and my freedom. He will repay me with his life.”

“I owe you nothing,” I hiss, furious with the curveball before me. Of all the people I expected to open my eyes to once the light reentered the room, my father and Aiden Marley were the last men I ever expected to see.

“Perhaps you owe me less than your brother,” he concedes. “Or that treacherous whore of a sister you have. But the doctor requested that we claim the donation from you and not your brother. It seems my little surgeon has a soft spot for him. Her pathetic feelings saved his life but ended yours.”

I look at Dr. Rivera, and she skulks back to the corner of the room she was hiding in before.

“He hates you,” I tell her. “You’re nothing to him.” Her face twists, but she doesn’t respond, only looks back blankly. All color has drained from her face, and she appears completely exhausted.

“Doctor,” Aiden says firmly. “Please advise the patient of the timeline. In other words, how long he has left on this earth.” His focus flicks to me. “I’ll enjoy watching you die.”

The doctor gasps at the crude statement and visibly takes a breath before speaking. “I have a few tests to carry out, but we plan to operate tomorrow evening. I have a colleague on stand-by to perform the removal, and I will transplant the organ myself.”

“Excellent, do you hear that, boss?” Aiden chortles, grabbing my father’s shoulder. The two men smile at each other, and the finality of it all becomes more clear. “Tomorrow, your death sentence will end.”

“Thank you, my boy,” he replies. “You are the son I should have had.”

The doctor clears her throat and refocuses their attention. She straightens her shoulders, a false confidence in her eyes.

“And after this,” she says firmly to Aiden, “my debt is clear. You’ll leave me alone and return my husband.” I glance at her, confused by the statement.

“Yes,” Aiden agrees. “Once you’ve saved this man’s life, I’ll write off any debt owed. You can go back to your regular life, and I’ll return that pathetic cretin of a man to you. With all his organs intact.”

She visibly relaxes before my eyes, and another piece of the puzzle falls into place. Not only has the doctor been carrying out illegal surgery to repay debts, but she’s also trying to save her husband.

“What should we do with him?” a brute asks, gesturing to me.

“Put him back in the box,” my father advises. “That’s where he’ll be ending his day tomorrow anyway. He may as well get comfortable.”

Chapter thirty-four

Connor’s Apartment, The Level

Samantha

Connor is never late getting home without telling me. We were meant to leave for dinner an hour ago. I glance at my phone lodged in my grasp again, and my palms sweat as my nerves rise. Something is wrong. I know it.

Tonight, Connor has booked a table for us at a new Italian restaurant I’ve been dying to try out. It’s not his usual high-end type place with slick design and gold fixtures. This place was created to look old with red and white checkered tablecloths, dark wood-paneled walls, and green wine bottles stuffed with melting candles. When I walked past it the other day, I was taken right back to being a child when my mother would take us to our local pizza place on my birthday. Normally, only one of my chosen friends and I would celebrate with my family. Money was tight, but I loved that meal every damn year. It’s a childhood memory I cherish. Connor should be reliving that time with me tonight, but he’s not here, and I’m worried.

Our night at The Estate was hot and unexpected. It was breathtaking that I got to share my body with both of them in the same beautiful space. Those hours spent being cherished were some of the happiest of my life. I can’t visualize moving on from one of them. The idea of losing the love of either of them breaks my heart. At this moment, I can’t imagine existing without both men.

Russell met us in the breakfast room the following morning. He was at a table set for three with highly shined cutlery and dazzling plates. Freshly-squeezed orange juice was being poured into glasses by a waitress dressed in a stereotypical black uniform with a white lace pinafore. He smiled up at her, and my jealousy bit in my chest. I don’t like him smiling at anyone but me.

Holding his brother’s hand, I mentally chastised myself for the absurdity of my feelings. Here I was with two men, both gorgeous, eligible, and obsessed with me, and I was jealous of him flashing a staff member a smile. When did I become so entitled to his affection? I was only in my position because these men cared for me, and sometimes I wondered why.

Connor pulled out my chair, and I sat. Russell leaned across, placing a warm palm on my knee beneath the white tablecloth. His hand traveled upwards under my skirt to sit on my thigh, and he flexed his fingers against my already hot skin.

“Morning, Trouble,” he said, his voice low as Connor settled in the final seat. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did, thanks,” I replied, my lips pulling up at the sides a little.

“Worn out?”

“Something like that.”

“Orgasms have that effect on a lady,” he said with a smirk. His use of the plural form didn’t go unnoticed, and his brother’s eyes lifted then narrowed. “All that tension takes its toll on that delectable body of yours, I’d imagine from what I saw.” He shuffled his chair closer, bending forward more and placing his lips at my ear. “I can still taste you, Trouble. You were fucking beautiful last night.”

Connor pulled his phone from his pocket and started scrolling the screen. His finger slid across the glass. I don’t know if the action was for show or if he was attempting to keep himself busy. The waitress reappeared behind him.

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