Page 53 of Bonita Brynne

“He had a heart attack. That’s not my fault.”

“You were always jealous of Bruno.” My brother sneered. “I want to meet my bride before our wedding day. And pray tell, when is my wedding day?” Spit flew out of his mouth as he shouted.

“A few weeks. A month max.”

“I. Don’t. Believe. You.” He was coming unglued at the seams. I felt sorry for the poor woman who would become Coby’s wife. He was a ruthless cunt. A monster in the bedroom… And in his sex room. He had a distinct taste for pain and blood.

Once he impregnated his wife, I’d have to lock her up until the baby was born to ensure he didn’t kill them both.

So many women he’d burned through… Thank God he hadn’t had a type or demanded certain traits regarding hair, eye color, or height. It would be a tedious job finding the perfect woman to feed his sex addiction. I might be the kingpin for the most notorious human trafficking ring in the Chicago metro area, but that didn’t mean our pool of women was varied. Most were from low-income neighborhoods, where nobody paid attention to anyone else but themselves. In more affluent areas, security was tighter. Hence buying Coby’s intended off the dark web.

I took a folder off the table and handed it to him. “See for yourself. All the arrangements are there.”

He paged through the papers the event planner had sent over. “I hate chocolate cake.”

I rolled my eyes. “Your bride requested chocolate.”

“I don’t care.”

“Can you try for once in your life to be agreeable instead of entitled? Honestly, you’re a grown man. Start behaving like one.”

He tossed the file onto the desk. “Red. Velvet. How’s that for agreeable?”

“Fine. I’m sure your bride-to-be will compromise. She’s not only beautiful but delightful too.” Not really. She won’t even speak to me. I had tried to tell her I was the kinder, more gentle brother, but she had refused to befriend me.

Fussy women annoyed me. It wasn’t my fault her husband didn’t want her. She could hate me all she wanted for buying her, but I needed a virgin worthy of being an Adrienne.

“What’s her name? What does she look like? Where are you keeping her?” He would not give up.

“Brunette, fair skin, hazel eyes.” Soulless hazel eyes.

“She sounds like Christina!”

“Only a coincidence, brother.”

He waved me off. “I don’t really care.”

I knew he wouldn’t.

“What about her breasts?”

“She’s a buxom beauty.” Another lie, but I needed to keep him calm.

“Nice. I can’t wait to drink her breast milk.”

I refrained from gagging. “Mhm.”

Coby hadissues, no thanks to his nanny, who had abused him under our parents’ noses. Due to their guilt, our parents’ indulged him after the truth came out regarding his abuse. I’d also felt horrible not knowing, but I’d been away at preparatory school.

To this day, I believe Coby enjoyed it. Perhaps I was too harsh. I might’ve felt differently if I hadn’t heard about the things they had done together. I was sure that his many kinks were developed with Ursula. Not many children nursed until they were six years old, for Christ’s sake.

After he was forced to kill her, he became violent… understandably.

“And where is she?”

“Safe from you, brother.” Oh no, I didn’t mean to say that.

“Don’t manipulate me!” He roared like a beast and swiped his hands across my desk, scattering my papers onto the floor and breaking a couple of picture frames. “Tell me where she is!”

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