Page 149 of Charming Like Us
He rams me into a sand pit. Little spotlights illuminate the pit, and I see better. I sock him in the jaw—just to keep Quinn from landing a harder blow.
His lip is split—I split his lip.
What the fuck am I doing?I feel sick, and I grapple trying to stand up in the sand. But we’re both taught to fight, not flee.
We grew up learning to solve issues with ourfists.
Fight it out.
I’ve never wanted to fight my brother.
He socks my face, the blow so hard that I land on my ass. Blood fills my mouth; I wipe it with my hand while a groan rips through me.Another blow.
And I hold my throbbing cheek. Stars in my eyes. I feel his anger seep into me, and he’s barely using force anymore.
He’s kneeling and pounding a light fist into my arm. Breathing like he’s on the verge of crying.
So raw and painful that I can’t for a second believe I didn’t do something to cause it.
I’m sorry.
I don’t know what the fuck I did, but I’m so sorry.
Arms pull at my shoulders and then drop to my waist, tugging me, and the voices around me suddenly come into focus. Like someone finally turned up the volume to the television.
“STOP IT!” Jo is shrieking the loudest. She’s pulling at Quinn while I realize Farrow and Jack are dragging me away from the fight.
“Oscar.” Jack’s voice draws my focus. He’s the one directly behind me. He’s the one who’s holding me around the waist and trying to tug me backwards. I realize, he has no Steadicam on anymore. He must’ve snapped it off his chest.
My blood-stained palm slides on top of his hand that’s pressed against my abs.
We’re still in the sand pit. My head is whirling. I turn more to Jack, my arm slipping around him.
“Does it hurt?” he asks, wincing at my swollen cheek.
“No.” I glance over at my brother who slowly rises to his feet.That hurts.
Jack laces our fingers. It almost brings tears to my fucking eyes. Thank God he’s here right now. I suck in a sharp breath.
“What’s wrong with you two?!” Jo screams at us as she holds onto Quinn’s bicep. He doesn’t dare try and fight against her. He spits a wad of blood into the sand.
Thatcher and Akara jog towards us, and I sweep the green. Shit.Fuck me.We’re the center of attention. Guests have crowded the clubhouse’s deck in the distance. Watching us. And it has nothing to do with the golf cart crash.
I can barely think straight right now. It barely registers when Akara says, “Get the fuck out of the sand pit.”
Over comms I hear the Alpha lead say, “Kitsuwon, get a fucking lid on your men.”
The air tenses.
Heat expels from Akara like an inferno of anger. This is a bad look. Kitsuwon Securities is a new company with a low margin for error, and there’s always an undercurrent of acknowledgement that we’re competing in reputation with Price’s Triple Shield.
All of us shuffle onto the green, leaving the bloody sand behind. We head towards the stolen golf cart and smashed bottles of champagne. “Akara—” I start.
“Give me one reason I shouldn’t fire both of you right now,” he spits, glancing between me and my brother. “One fucking reason!”
Quinn and I are both quiet.
He should really fire us.
