Page 13 of Promise Me Forever

I wince because that’s not entirely true. I’ve been in Chicago for a long time, and as much as I love my family, they don’t really know an awful lot about my life there. They only see what I allow them to see, the curated version of my world. But now that I’m back in New York, maybe that needs to change. “Well, except for the girls I…” I lick the residual whisky from my lips, suddenly nervous. “The girls I hire.”

Elijah arches an eyebrow, surprise clear in his eyes. No judgment, though. “The girls you hire? Like hookers?”

I shake my head. “Not exactly. It’s a bit more nuanced than that. These are professional women from an exclusive companyin Chicago. Women I had an ongoingarrangementwith that suited us all.”

Elijah stares at me, bemused. “But why couldn’t you just meet women the old-fashioned way? You’re rich. You’re successful. You keep yourself well-groomed.”

I frown at him. “Well-groomed?”

Mason nudges Elijah in the ribs and smirks at me. “He means that, objectively, you’re hot.”

“I’m curious too, Drake,” Nathan adds. “I can’t imagine you’re short on offers.”

Damn. I’ve not only opened the whole can of worms; I’ve dumped them out in the middle of the room for everyone to poke at with a stick. It’s hard to explain because they’re right, I don’t lack offers. But I simply don’t have the time or patience for the sheer mundanity of dating. The mind-numbing small talk, the getting-to-know-you shit. The pretending-we’re-not-just-here-to-scratch-an-itch falseness of it all.

It’s all so fake, especially when I know that I’m not interested in an actual relationship. I like women, and I love sex, but I’m not the settling-down kind. Presenting myself as someone I’m not, only to get to the naked part of the evening? That’s not for me. My special arrangements are far more honest, and it certainly saves time—time I can spend working. “It’s just easier that way,” I explain. “More efficient. They get the job done, don’t ask questions or expect small talk. We all know how it works and what our roles are. Plus, they don’t have any objections to the rope marks.”

Nathan sputters, nearly spitting out his Scotch. “Rope marks? Just exactly what kind of kinky shit are you into?”

Maddox and I lock eyes. Although he’s always been open-minded, my youngest brother’s travels provided him with a depth that he didn’t have before, and that’s why he’s the only one I’ve discussed any of this with. He gives me a knowing lookand answers for me. “It’s called Shibari. It’s a Japanese art form involving the aesthetics of bondage. The way the ropes create patterns on the skin, the contrast of textures… it’s not merely sexual. For some, it’s almost spiritual, and at the very least mindful.”

Huh. Mindful. Like coloring. There was something unbearably cute about watching that grown-up and completely gorgeous woman playing with crayons last night.

Maddox grins at me and holds his coffee mug aloft in salute. I offer him a smile of appreciation for his description of my “kinky shit” and raise my glass in acknowledgment. He’s right. There is something about the practice of shaping and tying the ropes that relaxes me and brings me to a calm place. I don’t practice it often, but when I’m stressed or strung out, it’s the quickest way to get out of my own head. The women I deal with are professional and experienced, and everybody benefits from the arrangement.

“Well, it sounds like a lot of work to me.” Mason smirks. “What happened to good old-fashioned handcuffs?”

Maddox rolls his eyes. “It’s like comparing apples and oranges, asshole. Shibari is actually quite sensual.”

“I bet it’s not the way Drake does it.” Mason chuckles and takes a sip of his Scotch.

“Kinky fucker,” Nathan mutters. “Spiritual, my ass. You’re just a grade-A pervert, bro.”

Elijah and Mason snort a laugh, and I shake my head. Every time the five of us get together, we revert back to teenagers, no matter how old we get. It’s juvenile, but I love it. I’ve fucking missed this while living in Chicago, and I only recently realized how much.

I punch Nathan on the arm, partly because he’s the one sitting closest to me, partly because I owe him one. Out of all my brothers, he’s the one I’ve always had the biggest rivalry andthe most in common with. Out of all of them, I expect him to have my back, or at least to try to understand. “Don’t judge just because you’re married now and don’t get to do any kinky shit.”

He tilts his head and grins at me, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief and the effects of the Scotch. “Pretty sure I get more action than anyone else sitting in this room.”

“Yeah, right.” Mason snorts. “Sure, bro. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Or keeps me up all night,” Nathan replies smugly.

Mason leans back in his chair, a perplexed expression on his face. “There’s no way you get more action than me. I mean, you’re married with a kid, and I’m…” Our younger brother licks his lips like he’s searching for the appropriate word.

Nathan rests his forearms on his knees. “You’re?”

“A man whore?” Elijah offers helpfully.

Mason arches an eyebrow, a cocky smile curving his lips. “I’m… well, I’m a busy guy. I have at least three dates a week.”

Nathan sits up straight, rolling up his sleeves. His expression turns serious, and I bite back a grin. I’ve seen this side of him plenty of times before, and it’s a joy to watch. It’s exactly the same way he looks in the courtroom when he’s about to destroy the prosecution. Mason is set to be schooled by the Iceman himself. “Let’s be generous, Mase, and say four dates a week. Even if you score every single time?—”

“Which I do,” Mason chimes in.

Nathan nods, sucking on his top lip and eyeing our brother across the table. “Okay. Accepted. So, accounting for downtime and knowing what I do about you and how eager you are to get them out the door as soon as the deed is done…”

“Harsh, bro,” Mason says with a barking laugh. He doesn’t argue, though, because we all know it’s true.

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