Page 41 of Pitiful Lies

I’ve always been a keep it casual kind of guy when it comes to the ladies. But casual doesn’t work with her.

Fucking my Koukla didn’t get her out of my system. In fact, it only worked her deeper into it. I’m a fucking addict, and right now, I’m jonesing for a fix.

“You want me to say it? Fine. My looking days have been over since the moment that woman tossed a pint of beer in my face.”

“Well, then I guess congratulations are in order, cousin,” he says, and the motherfucker grins.

I sigh and accept the drink Luc pours and hands to me. The three of us raise our glasses and we toss them back.

I feel amped up after we finish up talking and walk into the living room where the three women, and one cute baby, are all chatting.

Like I’m getting ready to step into the ring.

When Koukla turns her head, and those celery green eyes of hers sparkle up at me. They are full of emotion, and I feel it echo deep inside me.

Now, I understand why I feel like this.

Like a gladiator entering the circle.

This is life or death. It’s the one fight I can’t lose.

She might try to deny it, but there is no getting away from me. All those pitiful excuses are meaningless. They are nothing.

Giselle Vega is mine. Now it’s time I let her know.

CHAPTER ELEVEN-GISELLE

Acouple of hours of girl time is exactly what I needed to start feeling like my old self.

Angel’s gone quiet though, and I’m not sure how to start up a conversation with him. I want to thank him for what he did.

For coming to Florida to get me. For bringing me back home to see my friends.

I mean, family is great. I love mine. But I feel sort of lost in all the noise that comes with them sometimes.

Sometimes it’s nice to just be with people you choose. And I chose Anna a long time ago. Same way I chose Maria, if only recently.

Sure, their men are a little scary, But that’s okay. They treat them well, and that is all I need to know.

He pulls up at the valet stand and I recognize the building where Anna first came to live with Nico. It’s gorgeous, and I am thrilled they are letting me stay.

“If you pop the trunk, I can get my bag and the box?—”

I sigh as Angel steps out of the car. He walks to my door first, cutting off the attendant who was already making strides towards it. Angel says something and the man blushes, moving to the back of the vehicle to unload it.

The door opens and I take Angel’s hand warily. I’m not ready for the tiny bolts of electricity that go zipping down my arm and spine, and I gasp.

“You okay?” he asks, and I nod, a small, fake smile on my lips.

It’s after four o’clock, but the September sun is relentless. Sometimes I think it feels warmer now than it did in June.

“Everything goes upstairs,” Angel says to the attendant, then he places his hand on the small of my back and guides me to the door.

I’m not really paying attention as we ride in the elevator. His hand is no longer touching me. Angel is busy with work, texting someone on his phone. But I still feel the impression of his touch. Like he branded me somehow.

And I wonder how I might feel if he really did. Brand me, that is.

Would I be happy and content like Anna and Maria if this big, powerful man claimed me as his?

---