Page 190 of Vicious Hearts

“Please do,” Noel chuckles, gulping down breakfast before his brow furrows. He glances back up at me.

“Ididappropriately bust your balls last night about completely ignoring the blue-eyed blonde in the black dress who was all over you, right?”

“You did.”

“And again I say, why the fuck was I the one sleeping over at your house last night instead of her?”

Because I don’t want blonde hair and blue eyes. I want raven hair and emerald green ones.

“Because I know how good a breakfast you can make, Ransom.”

He snorts, shaking his head.

“Look, I know you’re wound pretty tight what with school, and the business. But, Christ, Adrian. How long has it been?”

I stiffen.

Noel chuckles. “I’m being fucking serious, you know. When’s the last time you allowed yourself some female comp—”

“I allow myself exactly as much female company as I want, Noel. But thank you for your interest in my bedroom activities, you fucking creep.”

He grunts, turning to sip his coffee and letting the subject drop.

Technically, it wasn’t a lie. Idoin fact allow myself as much female company as I want. It’s just that the amount of female company that I want these days is none.

I simply don’t have that urge anymore.

The only girl I ever wanted cut my heart out, burned it, and stamped on the ashes in front of me four years ago. My celibacy since isn’t any sort of bloody torch I’m carrying for her.

It just…is what it is.

I glance at my watch—the same one Jonathan gifted me the night before my father’s funeral—and frown.

“Fuck. I need to run.”

“Mind if I use your shower to clean up here?”

I nod. “Sure. But if you wank off in my bloody shower, it’s going to be war.”

Noel sighs. “Adrian, please.” He grins. “That’s what your pillow-cases are for.”

“Fuck you.”

He smirks. “What’s your morning like?”

“Advisor meeting with Professor Higgins.”

The funny thing about being at business school here at Lords College is that it’s only about twenty-five percent actual learning things. The rest is making connections and building relationships. And even in my world, that’ll be handy. Handy, if not necessary.

The professors know that, too. I mean, Higgins isn’t just some tweed-wearing schoolteacher. When he’s not advising at Lords College, he’s the Vice President of Rutger Capital, one of the largest, most aggressive hedge funds in the UK. He also knowsexactlywho and what I am. And he doesn’t turn a blind eye and “not give a shit”, but actually gives a shit preciselybecause ofwho and what I am.

Because the place where the gilded world of the elite and the dark world of crime meet ismoney. The marriage of sin. Higgins is my advisor because, one, he sees the business acumen in me, not just the hustler. And two, because healsosees the hustler. Rutger Capital knows full well there’s more than a pretty pound to be made doing off-the-books business with people like the Cross family.

“Don’t forget tonight.”

“I’ll be there.”

“You know it’s fight night?”

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