Page 20 of Cream Pie

Yeah.

I knew in one second I’d been fucked. So I called my lawyer, hung up, and just sat on the floor in my front entryway until the cops showed up. Luckily, I happen to work for one of the most powerful, richest guys in the city, and a friend like that pulls some serious damn strings. It didn’t take long for Jackie’s whole story to fall apart, and her plan to press charges on me for “abusing her” and walk away with a fat wad of cash fell through.

Bitch.

She’s tried to pull some shit with me a few times since, but mostly, I’ve got her well away from my life. Needless to say though, it’s left me a little fucked up.

“So, you gonna tell me the truth about last night or what?”

Fuck no.

But I just smile at Marshall. “Sports Center and some drinks, that’s all.”

He sighs. “Whatever. Fine, don’t tell me the lucky guy’s name.”

I laugh. “Dick.”

Marshall grins, but slowly, that grin fades as his eyes move past me again. I turn, and shit, the same scowl clouds my face as well.

It’s Amy—specifically, Amy dancing way, way close with this little trust-fund looking douchebag with a preppy haircut and a smug smirk on his face. My teeth grind as I watch him slide his hands over Amy, grinning away as he pulls her close and rocks his hips to the dance beat of the deejay. Beside me, Marshall growls.

“I mean, she’s an adult, I know,” he sighs. “But, c’mon. What dad wants to see his little girl dancing like that with a little shit like him?”

I nod slowly, seeing fucking red. I know it’s fucking stupid, and I know I have no “claim” or whatever on her. But you know what? Fuck that. Yeah, I do, and seeing another guy touching her makes me want to knock the smug look right off his pedigree face.

“It’s Danforth’s kid, too,” Marshall growls.

“Ken? From acquisitions?”

Marshall nods, and now I really want to smack this kid back into his trust fund vault. His dad is a douche and half and a walking sexual harassment suit liability. His kid looks worse.

“I’m being ‘that dad’, aren’t I?”

“Fuck no,” I growl. “Go tell that little shit to keep his hands to himself.”

He chuckles. “Thanks for the support. But I’m not going to be that guy. She’s eighteen, Javier.”

Thank God.

“Let her have her fun. You know,” he scowls. “Within reason. Look, I’m going to go dance with my bride.”

I nod dumbly, glaring at Ken Danforth’s son.

“Do me a favor though. Maybe just keep an eye on that little shit? If he pulls anything or if it looks like he’s bothering her—”

“Knock his teeth in and hide the body. Got it.”

Marshall laughs. “Thanks, brother.”

He walks away, and I turn and smile when I see Kendall giggle and jump into his arms to the cheers of some of the crowd. I turn back though, and my eyes narrow at Amy and douche-face swaying to the music. The kid slides his hand around to the small of her back, and something inside of me snaps.

Yeah, fuck this.

I slam my beer on the table and storm towards them, shoving my way through the crowded dance floor until I’m looming over both of them, a dark look on my face. Amy gasps quietly when she realizes it’s me, and she turns to look up at me with this scorching, fierce and wild look. It’s like a mixture of annoyance and pure heat.

Ken’s kid turns to glance at me with that smug look.

“Um, can I help you?”

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