Page 69 of Kinks of a Billionaire
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“Well, he didn’t waste any time.” Winston’s humor cut through the silence. “One thing we all have in common is that we’re whipped.”
“Except for Asher,” I corrected him.
Winston’s jaw flexed. Byron tsked while Winston remained silent.
“Should we come and help you out?” Byron offered. “I’m sure Odette and Billie would love a vacation sailing around the world.”
“We can be there tomorrow,” Winston offered, egging me on. Byron was usually too serious, and Winston liked to fuck with people.
“Should we just take the jet?”
“You fuckers aren’t coming here. This is my honeymoon,” I snapped. “Ruin it for me and I’ll ruin you.”
“Oh, he doesn’t want us,” Winston pouted.
“Don’t start your shit with me,” I grumbled. “You’ll be as subtle as a sledgehammer, meanwhile I’m over here trying to take care of the threat so Willow doesn’t pick up on it.”
They both laughed.
“You and subtle don’t belong in the same sentence.” Byron wasn’t going easy on me today.
Winston rolled his eyes and added, “I’m offended you would think so little of me.”
I flipped them off.
“Anyway, I’m going to go play with my wife.” Byron was smiling big, and I gagged at the insinuation. “Royce, I’ll ring up River and see if he can dig up some dirt on Stuart’s parents.”
Before I could say anything else, they left the call.
“Fuck me,” I grumbled.
A whimper from the bedroom had me hurrying to her bedside. She was shaking and moaning and writhing, and I looked around the room for a clue as to what was happening. Nothing but her cries. Was she having a nightmare? It would make sense after the run-in with Stuart’s parents.
I set the knife down on the bedside table and pulled her into my arms. “Wake up, baby. I got you.”
Her tear-filled eyes opened, and her fearful expression broke my heart. “Royce?”
“You were having a bad dream,” I whispered in her ear, holding her quivering body.
She snuggled into my chest and murmured, “It… Oh, Royce, it was horrible.”
“Want to talk about it?”
She nodded but remained silent, and I rocked her back and forth, assuming she’d fallen back to sleep.
“The whole thing with Stuart, then his parents tonight… It brought up a memory.”
“What’s that, baby?”
“The night Anya got pregnant.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, almost as if she were scared that her words would bring the nightmare back to life. “Sailor, Aurora, and I went out partying in Miami. We got into trouble, and Anya ended up beaten and… raped.”
I stiffened. Apparently this was one of the rare things my sister never shared with my brothers and me. “Who did it?”
“He’s dead.” Her palm was on my chest, almost as if she needed my heartbeat to steady her. “We promised never to talk about it. I’ve done pretty well pushing it to the back of my mind for so long, but…”
Our minds worked in mysterious ways, but it didn’t take a psychiatrist to draw a connection between Stuart’s violence and the memory recurring now.
