Page 28 of The Wrong Fiancée

"Don't worry about it. Come on. I want to make sure you get a good meal into you…you're gonna need your energy because I want to fuck you all night."

She had smiled at me. We made love all night long. She'd probably gotten a few hours of sleep before rushing off to work while I was still in bed. She'd made sacrifices to be with me those two weeks, surviving on little sleep, while spoiled little Dean Archer had shirked off meetings in Hong Kong with no consequences.

My phone beeped, and I saw a message from Felicity.

Felicity:Remember that Dante is joining us for dinner. We need to discuss the artwork for his new casino in Monte Carlo.

I wanted a partner who could bring in business and curate art for Archer Arts & Antiquities. Nonetheless, seeing her message annoyed me.

Me:Dante just wants to hang out with friends. No business tonight.

Felicity:LOL! Like you can NOT talk business EVER.

Is that what she thought about me? When the fuck had I become one of my brothers? Or had I always been like them and just didn't know it?

I ignored her message and called my father.

Our parents always answered the phone when any of us called, including my brothers’ wives. Once their children were able to use a phone, they'd be there for them as well.

"Dean," Dad picked up on the second ring.

"Hey."

I had no idea what to say to him, how to tell him what I'd done. I was an idiot then. Young. Was I wiser now? But Elika had been younger by four years. I'd been twenty-six, cocky, thinking I had the world at my feet and all the pussy I could want. Regardless of the truth, it didn't give me the right to crush someone, as I knew I had Elika. I could see on her face how my words had devastated her. She'd not just beenangry, she'd been heartbroken.

"What's wrong, kiddo?"

It was not necessary to ask how he knew something was wrong. Mom couldn't pick up nuances, but Dad always could—just like me, or at least that's what I used to think.

"I hurt someone really badly," I confessed.

"Who? How?"

"You don't know her. I met her four years ago in Honolulu and?—"

"She the girl who made you miss the Edo auction in Tokyo?" Dad had a good memory. Like a fucking elephant.

"Yeah. She was."

"How did you hurt her?"

I told him, haltingly, because saying the words again hurt—made me feel like a fucking worm. I felt small. Awful. I told him about the Thatchers, how they were connected to Elika, and how I'd tried to offer Elika money to help care for her sister, which had backfired big time.

"I thought we taught you better than to indulge in degrading locker room talk." Dad's tone was sharp. I had known there would be noit's okay, son, you were young,oreveryone makes mistakes.And, honestly, his reaction was better than what Mom's would be. She'd show up and kick me in the balls.

"I…I didn't even know I was doing it until she told me."

"And that makes it okay?"

"Fuck, no, Dad. I know I screwed up. I hurt her. You should've seen her face…Christ!" I closed my eyes, and I could still remember the unshed tears in hers, the trauma on her face, probably her soul.

"You made her feel like a prostitute; how do you think she'd feel?" Dad barked at me. "Dean, I'm fucking angry and disappointed."

"I know. How do I fix this?"

Dad scoffed. "There's no fixing this. Stay the hell away from her, and you tell Sam that if he doesn't corral Ginny, I'll do it for him."

"Did you know about Sam's half-brother?"

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