Page 80 of Choices

“I didn’t want to argue with you.”

“No, you want to tell me to stay away from the brothers because you and Dad decided I’m allowed to be raised by them, live with them, but god forbid I fall in love with one.”

“Whoa.” He flinches back as if I struck him. “Who the fuck said anything about love?”

I feel the color drain from my face. Fear climbs up my spine, curling around my neck. “No one.”

“Kit.” He places a hand on my arm, long, thick fingers squeezing in reassurance. “Do you love him?”

My pulse pounds against my temple, and I stare at my big brother, desperate to lay it all out on the table. “Kit…” he says again, “do you love Wheels?”

A puff of air chokes past my lips as my eyes close. He’s not talking about Cutter. Of course he’s not. Gathering my thoughts, I swallow down the stone wedged in my throat. “No. Claire is wrong about Chris. We’re just friends.”

Tugging my arm from his hold, I slip from my chair and don’t stop walking until I’m in the hall outside Cutter’s room. My hands splay against the wall, my forehead resting between them. What happened between him and Chris? Exhaling a breath, I brush down my dress and move to his door, raising my hand to knock. It opens before I make contact.

Instant regret grips my heart in a punishing hold. Sickness burns a torch up my throat. Stepping backward, I allow him to step out. The glimpse of Claire buck naked and covered in his fluids scorches a scar into my brain. I knew they fucked. They’re married and have a kid, but it’s never been right in my face.

“Kitty…” My name is strangled on his lips. Wild, panicked eyes study me.

Doing up the buttons on his jeans, he shakes his head. “I can explain that.” His voice shakes and slurs.

Straightening my spine, I will my voice not to break. “There’s nothing to explain. I don’t give a shit if you fuck your wife, Cutter.”Lies. Lies. Lies.“But tell that shit-starting bitch I’ll bust her face open the next time she runs her mouth to my brother about shit she knows nothing about.”

“Kit, wait…” he pleads, reaching out for me. He’s such a beautiful man, it’s almost devasting to look at him. Then Claire’s image replaces his, and my heart hardens.

Side-stepping him, I cringe. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

Navigating the halls, my legs weak and heart bleeding, I stop at the threshold of the bar and swallow. Sierra is straddling Chris’s lap, her tongue down his throat like she’s trying to taste what he had for dinner.

Pulling my phone from my boot, I bring up the new name added tonight and type out a message.

Me: Night cap?

A couple of seconds pass, then three dots appear, bouncing across the screen.

Michael: Sure. Your place or mine?

I sweep my gaze around, checking my surroundings, and type back.

Me: Definitely yours.

Pulling up to the apartment building, I rake my eyes over the glass giant and step out of the car, leaving the empty bottle of vodka I killed on the way here. “I’ll wait here for you.” New Tim nods his head out the window.

“No. I’ll call if I need a ride,” I call out to him, lifting a chin to the doorman as I enter the building, feeling a little lightheaded.

I enter the lobby, and Michael’s domineering presence hits me like a wave of heat. His frame is even more impressive under the bright foyer lights. His tidy hair from earlier tonight looks disheveled, and I want to run my fingers through it. Smoldering green eyes travel over me with a hunger that makes my nipples hard beneath my dress. “What a gentleman.” I smile, taking his offered hand, ignoring the assessing eyes of the woman manning the desk.

Guiding us to an elevator, Michael swipes a key card across the screen. The elevator begins ascending, and alcohol sloshes around in my empty stomach.

“What made you change your mind?” he asks, referring to the fact that I blew him off at the club. The space is small. A table along the back wall with a large vase of flowers forces close proximity. He smells expensive, like cigars and spice, and it intrigues me to know what he will taste like.I’m drunk.

“I don’t abandon my girls for a man friend,” I tease, stroking my eyes up his frame blatantly.

A sexy smirk kicks up the corners of his mouth. “Lucky me, they seem to have gotten home safely.” The doors open with a soft ding, leading straight into the penthouse apartment.

White marble floors spread out into an open space with a living room, dining area, and kitchen. Every wall is dark gray and blank, apart from the one with an L-shaped couch in front of it. Slipping my hand from his, I saunter through the apartment, stopping in front of the huge ass painting of a naked woman reaching from floor to ceiling.

“Classy.” I muse. “Is that an ex-girlfriend?”

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