Page 11 of Misdeeds of a Billionaire
His sister—more than several years older than him—sat at the table very much proper and serious. She was a doctor at George Washington back in the States. It would seem being a doctor was a requirement in their family. Her eyes traveled around the terrace—a slightly bored expression on her face—until they landed on the bar. She was watching Marco.
Hmmm, interesting.
Marco needed a serious woman in his life. “That’s Marco,” I remarked casually. “He’s our friend.” Tristan’s sister turned her attention to me, raising her eyebrow. “We can introduce you,” I offered.
She shook her head just as her phone buzzed and she turned her attention to it. Tristan was overly friendly; his sister not so much.
My eyes roamed the terrace, looking for familiar faces, until they landed on the one person I’d hoped not to see during my break back home. My ex. With a new woman on his arm. From what I heard, he’d been cycling through women like they were going out of style.
I stiffened and my jaw clenched. He was my ex, but it still irked me that he was getting laid while I had been on the long stretch of a dry season.
“Okay, that’s it.” My sister’s voice pulled my attention away from the cheating bastard. Her fingers wrapped around my upper arm as she tugged me to the back of the open terrace, away from our table. “I demand to know what happened.”
I blinked. “What are you talking about?”
My sister’s subject changes could be jarring and disorienting. One minute she was talking about the weather and the next about a trip to the moon.
“You and Pierre,” she hissed under her breath. “Every time someone mentions him, you get all moody.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not moody.”
“Yes, you are.”
I let out a heavy sigh, too tired to argue with her. “Fine. It’s pissing me off that every time I turn around, I hear he has a new woman. And I’m here in the fucking desert.”
My sister’s brows scrunched. “Huh? What desert?”
My sister’s airheadedness grated on my nerves tonight. Usually, I didn’t mind it, but I could feel my temper flaring. I needed to get laid as soon as possible.
I turned to my left, meeting my sister’s brown eyes. She had our mother’s eyes and her gorgeous blonde hair.
“I just meant I want a ménage à trois,” I sighed wistfully. It was random, but I knew it’d get my sister going. She was going through a sexual revolution. Or was it exploration? Either way, she claimed by the time she was married, she’ll have tried everything and anything so she knew what she was giving up when she finally said “I do” to some poor schmuck.
“Oh my gosh,” she gushed. “That’s on your bucket list?”
That was one department that Billie never lacked in. Sex was her expertise. She had only one rule in life: try everything once. If she didn’t like it, she’d just never do it again. I, on the other hand, needed to evaluate the pros and cons of any situation.
Ménage à trois included.
My eyes traveled back to Pierre. “It is now,” I muttered.
Pierre wanted to explore a ménage à trois, except it wasn’t for me. He wanted two women. I refused, and I was certain it was the reason for his cheating. Desiré jumped right into that boat and gave him exactly what he wanted. But then he was done with her too.
“What happened with Pierre?” Billie was relentless in her hunt for information. I truly wished she’d become a reporter. Her nosiness would come in handy there. Instead, it left me subject to all her investigations.
I flicked a glance her way. “He cheated.”
Fury flashed in my sister’s brown eyes. “That motherfucker.” She lunged forward, probably to stride over to him and punch him in the face.
“It’s been months. I’m over it, and he’s not worth it.”
“Damn straight he’s not worth it.” She tried to pull free but my grip was too tight. “But my sister is and—”
“Billie, let it go,” I ordered.
The best adjective to describe my older sister wasfirecracker. She was five foot four, yet she wouldn’t hesitate to take on anyone. Sometimes it worried me for her safety. I’d seen her punch an MMA dude once because he called her a little kitty. Thank all the stars he was a gentleman and didn’t punch back.
At the end of it all, it turned out to be a translation issue and he didn’t mean to call her a kitty, but tigress. Anyway, that was neither here nor there.
