Page 132 of Restitution
Base coughs and asks one of his bodyguards in Russian to take their bags. Then he asks what I assume is the main guard if he can take Nikita, so he can catch up with his friends. The man’s reply is whispered, his teeth gritted, his brows furrowing in annoyance.
I might sneak into his room tonight and put a bullet in his head for being a dick to my friend.
Luciella is temporarily frozen, so my mum and Ewan lead Nikita and her bodyguards inside, but when she rouses herself and makes to follow them, Base rushes for her and takes her arm.
“I didn’t fuck her,” he says quietly so the other Russians don’t hear. “I swear I didn’t. I told you I wouldn’t touch her.”
She doesn’t look at him. Her lip trembles. “Please let me go.”
“Not until you tell me you believe me. I didn’t fuck her. Please.”
“She’s your wife. You can do what you want,” Luciella replies, her eyes glassy. “Don’t make this harder than it already is. I’m not mad, I promise. I know all of this is out of your control.”
He releases her arm and shakes his head. “I tried to call the wedding off.”
“I know.”
He goes to take a step forward again but stops himself. “Please tell me you believe I didn’t go near her.”
“What I think doesn’t change things, Sebastian. I’m not angry with you. I just… I need to go.” Luciella glances at all of us, a tear slipping down her cheek. “I’m going to go to my room.”
Stacey and Tylar let go of me and Dez, and for once, I’m okay with the temporary separation. Both walk with her into the manor, and Base watches my sister until she’s out of view.
He turns to me and Dez. “I didn’t fuck her.”
Dez tilts his head. “Since when were you a cradle-robbing bastard? She looks fresh out of the womb.”
“She’s eighteen, you dickhead.” Base groans and stares at his shoes.
The last of the guards are filtering into the manor, the detectives still standing beside their car, but I’m in no hurry. They can wait.
“She asked me to lie and say we slept together, and I obviously agreed.”
Dez makes a sound of acknowledgment and pulls Base in for a hug, patting his back, and Base snakes his arms around him, looking like he really needs one as he buries his face in his shoulder.
“Shit, man,” Base blurts. “Can we go back five years?”
“Why five?” I ask.
“You both had girlfriends and normal lives, and all I had to worry about was getting Luciella’s attention for more than two minutes.” He’s still holding on to Dez. “Now we’re all fucked.”
“I’m pretty sound, in all honesty,” Dez says. “I just have fucked-up brothers.”
Brothers– meaning me and Base.
I stand and watch them, unsure if I should join or keep staring. I mean, I want to – at the same time, there are crowds pointing cameras at us, and I’m not really a hugger. Unless the person involved is a dancer with dark hair and freckles, with my initials tattooed on her.
Base doesn’t give me a chance to decide; he grabs my shirt andyanks me to them, and the three of us hug it out. Dez says we’re insane, Base says he’s a boring pussy, and I shake my head at them and tell them I love them.
We became best friends in school. I was annoyingly popular because of who my dad was, and Base was cocky, even at the age of seven, while Dez was our sporty sidekick. I had no need for friends – or so I thought at the time. I could never have imagined how important they’d become. Our trio. The ones who got me into trouble with the law and gave me my first drag of a joint; who got me drunk and egged windows with me. Who crashed Base’s car and left that heap of shit wrapped around a tree after attempting to teach me how to drive.
In the end, it was my brother who taught me. My friends were terrible teachers.
I pull away first and straighten my top then frown at Base. “Why the fuck are you crying?”
“I’m not,” he says in a gruff voice and wipes his eyes. “I’m just tired.”
“You missed us, didn’t you?” Dez teases, and Base shoves him and puts him in a headlock.
