Page 71 of Call You Mine

That catches my attention, and I turn back to face her, anger burning inside me. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

The dimly lit room swallows us in as Clarissa struts over to the bar like some demon in a horror movie. Her eyes gleam in the darkness. She is the demon in my film. A vile and clingy monster who poisoned me to the point of no return.

She takes the bottle out of my hand, pouring herself a drink. Her dark green dress is skin tight, bearing an almost alarming amount of cleavage if you didn’t know her—all fake of course.

“I had dinner with my dearest friend, Willa Servite. You see she had some very enlightening news. Apparently her daughter has a new man in her life. A man Willa never would haveapproved of, not sure it would even matter if she did. However, a man that is now wealthier than even the Servite’s.”

“Cut the bullshit Clarissa, what do you want? You have no right over me, despite the bullshit in your head you’ve made up to convince yourself otherwise. So you sure as fuck have no say in who I do or don’t date.”

Her face contorts, an equally furious and embarrassed expression highlighting those thin lines she pays so much to prevent. “You're right,” she says, running her finger over my chest, her nails digging into the small patch of skin visible beneath the collar of my unbuttoned dress shirt. “Doesn’t mean I don’t get jealous. I worry about you, Draco.”

A sharp laugh escapes me at the fucking bullshit lies this woman spews. The audacity to come at me with some fake sense of care. She’s never given a goddamn about me or anyone for that matter. She saw me as a business opportunity the day she walked into the casino and found me, broken and helpless.

Clarissa saw a way to get what she wanted and make a fucking fortune while doing so. I was a piece of meat she hung in her shop for her friends to salivate over, feasting on me herself before she passed me around like I was some disposable toy.

Sure I was a willing participant in all of this but is it really willing when you agree out of desperation. Because I saw no other way out of my fucked-up misery than taking a bone from the bitch who held it out to me, of course not without consequence.

She used me—again I was willing—but it fucked me up in more ways than one.

And now I’m here, standing across from her, running from my problems. Running from a woman who could be my entire happiness, all because I don’t believe I deserve a goddamn thing.

Though Clarissa’s not to blame. I’ve done this all on my own.

Clutching her wrist tightly in my hand, I yank it off of me, pushing it into her chest. She winces slightly, and I know I’m possibly being too harsh on her—I’m not a man who’d ever physically hurt a woman—but I can’t get myself to release her. “You’re out of your goddamn mind if you think this,” I say, pointing between us, “Ends in any other way than with me buying you out.”

“Oh my dear boy, you really think she’d still want you once she figures out who you really are?” she mocks, though little does she know, Wynter knows all about Kingsman and my part in it. At least some of my part, though she doesn’t know about my agreement with Clarissa. An agreement I destroyed yet taken part in thus far.

I’ll admit I am afraid of what Wynter would think of me if she ever discovered the contract Clarissa offered and set between us, and if the look on her face is anything to go by, Clarissa damn well knows it

“Whatever happens between Wynter and I is none of your fucking business. Let me tell you this once more, and for the last time. Sell me your shares of Kingsman or prepare yourself to buy mine back cause I want nothing more to do with you.” I release her though not before making sure she knows exactly how serious I am about what I’ve said. I should have never become her business partner, but I wanted out of her clutches so I figured it would be easier than trying to rid myself of her completely.

This was all before Wynter showed up in my life once again. Had she arrived on my doorstep any earlier, I would have told Clarissa exactly here to shove her company and all of it. But now, I either want her out, or I’m willing to leave it all behind.

Clarissa’s tight smile curves upward, and the bitch suddenly starts laughing. What the fuck is she thinking? “We’ll see,” she says, leaning forward and placing a kiss against my bottom lip.Of course I move in time, but her mouth grazes the side of my jaw, and a wave of nausea rushes through me.

God, I fucking hate the bitch for everything we’ve done together. It’s never made me sick to my stomach to think about it before, not when it was something I convinced myself I not only wanted but needed.

She’s always been incredibly attractive despite our nearly twenty-year age gap, but right now as she struts away from me, I can’t stomach even looking at myself in the mirror.

Despite how I was brought into Kingsman, I’ve accomplished transforming the business into something not even Clarissa could have ever imagined. I was the face of Kingsman and I damn well deserved to reap every single benefit.

Although my pride won’t let me walk away from something I’ve achieved by my own merits, for Wynter, I’d walk away from it all. And that is a fucking terrifying truth I’m not ready to accept.

Walkingin the Silver Wolf is supposed to be an escape. Though tonight it seems I won’t be catching a break. The bar is packed as usual, thanks to the live music set Jade added in on the weekends. Leave it to my friends to open a bar you can barely move in much less unwind. I knew I shouldn’t have come here, but there was really nowhere else I could go. Unwinding after a long day of work usually meant me going home, serving myself a glass of whiskey, and sitting in silence in my office or out on the balcony of my bedroom. But now, home is where she was, and I couldn’t face her, not yet. Not when I was still trying to process everything.

She was supposed to be off tonight. I’d checked with Jade earlier today and she mentioned giving her the night off since she was still a little shaken up about what happened yesterday. I haven't responded to any texts from Wynter—not any of the thirteen she’d sent since last night or the one from an hour ago where she asked if I was coming home because she was planning on cooking dinner and wanted to know if I was allergic to anything.

Fuck me. Coming home to her in a fucking apron and nothing else as she cooked me dinner was a fucking fantasy I needed to see through at some point.

Wynter Servite was offering to cook me dinner—something I’m one hundred percent sure she’s never done before—and instead here I was, alone at a bar, ready to drink away my woes about what it all meant instead of taking advantage of the fact she wanted to be mine.

I was acting like a fucking chick.

I bypass the huge fucker they hired on as head security for the bar and head over toward the row of tables right in front of the counter. My gaze drifts around the room like it’s searching for something to cling to until my eyes collide with a perfect round ass in cutoff shorts that leave nothing to the imagination. They may as well be a denim thong with the amount of coverage they offer, worse than any of the ones she’s ever worn around the house. My hands fist at my side as anger builds inside of me, my jaw clenching as I watch her move about behind the bar.

What the fuck is she doing here tonight? And what the hell was Jade thinking of when she hired her on?

For one, Jade probably figured the white-haired babe with a killer body wearing a smidge of clothing would sell drinks like there’s no fucking tomorrow. Especially given she’s got the whole Targaryen vibe going for her which seems to be the crazeright now. Smart business but a stupid fucking move if you ask me. Not when the girl is supposed to be mine.

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