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“No can do. I’m rolling with another now.”

I huffed. “I’ll try Stevie, then.”

Rapturous laughter came through. “Don’t hold your breath, Rafael. She’s hella pissed; you know what she’s like.”

Fuck yes, I did. No reasoning with that one once she got her cheap-ass panties in a bunch. Still…

“Too fucking needy, that’s what. I’ll try my luck.” Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Again, she laughed at me. “Good luck, baby cakes. You’re gonna need it.”

“Bye, Teq.”

On the same breath, I was tapping Stevie's name and pursing my lips. Could I really stoop this low? Fuck exclusivity before I’d given Greer the respect she deserved? The much needed explanation?

“You’ve got some fucking nerve calling me, Rafael,” Stevie spat, making me flinch and pull the phone away from my head.

“You sound like you need a good fucking. Come to the Ritz-Carlton and I’ll give you exactly that.”

“Always the arrogant asshole who thinks he can click his fingers and bitches come running.”

I snorted. “Bitch, you came running as fast as your knock-off Vuitton's could carry you.”

“Fuck you, Raf!”

Drunk but not so intoxicated that I missed the jealousy in her voice, I laughed wickedly. “That’s precisely why I’m calling.”

Pure venom laced her retort. “I hope you crash and die.”

It took me a single beat to recollect myself. And when I did, I made sure my comeback was the one that stung the most.

“Stevie?”

“What?”

The words intended to wound punched from my mouth, carrying a verbal whiplash sharp enough to draw her hurt-filled gasp through the phone.

“I called Teq before you. What does that tell you? You weren’t anything but a second choice, and I’d drop you again like a hot coal in a blink. Remember that.”

“Go to Hell,” she spat, then ended the call before I could say something else I would no doubt regret come morning.

“Already there, bitch. Already fucking there.”

Chapter 42

-Greer-

Ringing Raf was straight-up pointless. I’d tried over a dozen times and each outcome was the same; unsuccessful. Either his phone was off or he was purposely declining my multiple attempts to contact him.

I didn’t want to pick a fight. Quite the opposite, actually. We needed to talk, to hash things out, and him ghosting me made that impossible. I needed to tell him that I knew he didn’t mean to lash out. And other than stunning me, it hadn’t hurt—not really. Not compared to what Bryce used to do.

My throat tightened from that thought alone. I’d known my own hell. Lived it. Endured it.Survived it.Manipulation was Bryce’s middle name, and I still kicked myself that it took me months to find the courage to walk. I was forever thankful that I got out when I did and moved states to go to college. There I met Christian and re-built not just my life, but all my confidence and self-assurance that had been stripped away during the previous year.

I sighed heavily and looked up to meet Tian’s eyes where he lingered at my doorway. His expression knocked me for six. It was the one he seldom allowed to show through his business mask. The few times he’d aimed that look my way were during times when we shared sacred moments.

When I’d confided about my past, I received that look. When we’d had a pregnancy scare, I received that look. Same when I got so ill one time I couldn’t get out of bed for an entire week. Being on the receiving end of his concern was both comforting and confronting, and it hit me square in the chest.

“Can I come in?”

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