Page 86 of Ashes of Saints

“You have a brother?” I say before I can stop myself. We share a look, and I glance away.

“Father?” Chloe probes. “I do like a silver fox.”

Parker’s face darkens and the air in the vehicle thickens.

“My father is dead.” His voice is heavy and full of malice, halting any further questions.

Why don’t I know these things?

Parker finally looks out the window, his eyes brushing past mine, stopping for only a millisecond. “He was not a good man.”

Chloe and I share a look.

I hate that I haven’t asked him about his mother and father. No wonder he doesn’t see me as girlfriend material.

“Yeah, men are cunts,” Chloe says and gives me an oh my god, what was that look?

I quickly shake my head.

Ten minutes later, we pull up to the sidewalk and wait for Eric. When he opens the door, Chloe leaps out.

“Thank you, young man,” she says, and I snort while Parker follows next.

Then he takes my hand and reaches his other hand out to me. His hand sweeps around me to my hip when I stand and straighten my dress. I’m tugged against him.

“Don’t cross the line too much, sweetheart. I only have so much control.”

“Fuck buddies, remember?” I glance up at him pointedly, even though my words are low.

“That’s not what I said.”

“It’s the same thing.” I run my hand down the arm of his black shirt, hearing a growl deep in his throat.

Immediately, I wish we were alone and he would kiss me. Fuck me. Forget this game we seem to be playing.

The door of the club opens for us and Parker hands him his black credit card.

“Declined.” The man smirks at Parker.

“Every week.”

“Every week, Mr. Stone.”

Parker laughs and indicates that Chloe and I should head inside.

I’m confused.

“Did your card decline?” I ask, almost tripping on my stupidly high heels.

Parker shakes his head humorously, his hand sliding over my ass. “No. Travis won’t let us pay. But every week I try. He’s put a block on my card so the machine won’t take it. Occasionally, I get a new one just to fuck with him.”

“Just slip him a twenty or something.” I tell him.

Parker dips his eyes. “The door charge is three figures. Per person.”

The hell?

“One hundred dollars?” I gasp.

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