Page 31 of Filthy Little Games

“Get out,” I tell him. “Both of you.”

Thankfully, Tristan puts on his shoes and strolls over to the penthouse door with a smirk on his cocky face.

Once Tristan leaves, Dre slips on his dress shoes and asks, “You sure you’re feeling okay, man?”

“I need some sleep,” I declare, something I haven’t been getting much of the past week.

“Then I’ll go and let you get you some…rest.” After a long pause, he adds the last word while biting back a grin.

I let his insinuation go, since everyone is supposed to think we’re fucking.

“Call and tell Lorenzo to send someone over to stand watch at the penthouse door.”

Dre’s dark brow lifts to his hairline. “You want a man on that door?” He points to it.

“Yes. Nobody comes in or out without my approval. Have whoever is available text me when they’re in position.”

His eyes widen. “Wow.” Holding up his palms, he backs toward the door. “Nope. I’m not even going to ask. Good luck, Zara. I mean, good night.”

I flip him off in response, right before I remember doing the same to my brother just moments before he died.

“I’m sorry I missed the game tonight,” I tell Dre before he reaches the foyer. “We’ll pick it back up next week.”

“Yeah, next week,” he agrees.

After the door closes behind him, I lock up. When I return to the living room, Zara is still standing right where I left her.

“That was…fun,” she says. “And while I appreciate you making him apologize, that’s not the first time I’ve been mistaken as a whore.”

“Sorry.”

“The funny thing is, getting paid for sex seems infinitely smarter than getting fucked over for free.”

There is so much to unpack in that last statement, but I can’t handle it all tonight. “We’re going to circle back to that comment tomorrow,” I assure her. “As soon as one of my men comes to watch the door, I’m getting a shower and going to bed.” I want to try to get a few hours of sleep before I have to get up, start making arrangements for a marriage ceremony, and expedited prenup paperwork.

That is, if I don’t wake up in the morning and realize marrying a woman I don’t know is a ridiculous idea. Or she doesn’t kill me in my sleep. I’ll need to lock my gun in the safe, along with both of our cell phones.

“I could use another shower too,” Zara remarks. For a second, I think she’s insinuating that she wants to join me. Then she adds, “I feel…gross.”

Right.

Just because she didn’t flinch when I killed a man doesn’t mean she wants to fuck me.

9

Zara

Sitting up in the giant comfy bed within the fancy as hell penthouse, I admire the breathtaking view of the city from the ninety-sixth floor. Last night, it was awesome to see the buildings lit up, romantic even, but today it’s even better as I take in the iconic Central Park and Manhattan skyline.

Well, I survived my first night with Creed Ferraro.

His side of the bed is already neatly made as if he was never there.

When Creed told me I had to sleep in his room, I expected the worst and was pleasantly surprised.

He let me shower first, without any gawking, and gave me one of his white undershirts to wear to bed. Then, after I was done, he took a quick shower before turning off the lights and climbing into bed.

There was no pillow talk, no touching, not even accidental. We both just fell asleep.

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