Chapter 1 #2
Nicole laughs. “It’s Saturday night, so it shouldn’t be too bad. And besides, like my stepmom always says, ‘It’s as easy to fall in love with a rich man as it is a poor one.’ ”
I snort out a laugh. “Spoken like a dedicated gold digger.”
“Eh, she’s not bad. At least she’s honest with her intentions.
She was a struggling single mom and determined to get herself out of South Harbor Point.
One night with my dad, and she had him wrapped around her perfectly manicured finger.
She might’ve been broke, but she was young and beautiful, and …
well, we both know my dad has bare minimum standards.
Thankfully, she’s nice, and her daughter and I get along. ”
“You have a stepsister?” I quickly glance her way before putting my eyes back on the road. “Why have I never met her?”
Nicole and I have been hanging out for months, but now that I think about it, she doesn’t talk much about her home life.
I know her dad threw a fit about her opening her coffee shop and bookstore, but she used the money her mom had left her when she died when Nicole was little, so he couldn’t do much to stop her.
Especially since she had moved out and gotten her own apartment so she’d no longer be dependent on him in any way.
“Vanessa is away at college,” Nicole says. “My dad might’ve been keen on having the hot young wife on his arm, but he isn’t a fan of raising another man’s child.”
My thoughts go to my brother Matteo. When he and my sister-in-law Dani found out she was pregnant and it wasn’t his baby—due to her ex-husband forcing himself on her while she was kidnapped—he could’ve walked away, but instead, he insisted the baby was his, DNA be damned.
So many people snub their noses at our family because of our less than stellar business dealings, but listening to Nicole talk about the way the mayor—who prides himself on being a religious family man—could shun the daughter of his wife only reiterates how hypocritical this world is.
Mayor Eric Vanderbilt might have this town fooled, but my family has his number, and once my brothers can prove he’s as shady as we think he is, I have no doubt they’ll take him down.
When we walk into North Harbor Point Country Club, my gaze immediately goes to the bar, which, as I predicted, is filled with a bunch of pompous assholes.
They’re rich, and they think they’re God’s gift to women.
And they’re so wrapped up in themselves that they wouldn’t know how to please a woman if her clit smacked them in the face.
I groan, and Nicole laughs.
“Maybe tonight will be different,” she says as we walk toward the bar.
We find a spot with two empty seats, and I order my usual whiskey sour while Nicole orders a cosmo.
“Okay, now spill. What happened with Theo?” she asks.
I take a sip of my drink while I try to figure out how to answer her question. I know she won’t judge. Unlike Theo, when I told Nicole about my past, she sympathized, but she didn’t pity me, and she’s never once changed the way she acts around me.
“I think I’m broken,” I admit.
She quirks a brow.
“I mean, I know I am. I’m fucked up. But”—I lean in so no one else can hear—“I haven’t orgasmed during sex since I was with Owen.”
“Owen, as in your college boyfriend?”
I nod, and her eyes go wide.
“Holy shit, Bri, that was, like … years ago.”
“I’m well aware,” I say dryly. “Theo was the first guy I’ve been with since I came home.”
When I was in college, I met Owen, and we fell in love. We spent months planning our future together until Anthony caught us and then snuck into my apartment and raped me.
A couple of months later, Andrey found out I was pregnant, so Owen and I ran. We ended up in a shitty motel, where Andrey found us, killed Owen, and then forced me to abort my baby.
I moved to Russia to get away and never once even considered looking at a man. I was busy helping my grandfather run his company and trying to heal from the trauma.
But when my brother Dominick dragged me home after our grandparents passed away, I had a lot of time on my hands. So, I decided to put myself out there.
I went on too many first dates and barely any second ones. So, when I met Theo and he seemed to tick all the boxes of what I was looking for, I grabbed ahold of him.
“Girl,” Nicole drawls, “you need to get back on the horse. You might as well be a virgin at this point. The man didn’t even give you an orgasm, so he doesn’t count.”
I snort out a laugh. “I want to, but it’s hard …”
Nicole snickers at my unintentional pun, and I roll my eyes.
“A couple of times, I came close …”
“To coming?” she questions.
“No.” I laugh. “To sleeping with a man. But it never felt right.”
“And it felt right with Theo?”
I think about that for a second and then shake my head. “No, it felt … comfortable and safe.”
“Maybe that’s the problem,” she says. “You need to be taken out of your comfort zone.”
“Maybe,” I agree. Then, because deep conversations like this stress me out, I add, “At least he wasn’t allergic to pussy.”
“What?” Nicole barks out a laugh.
“When I first came home, I tried to pick up a man. I brought him back to a room at the country club, but his face was only between my legs for about twenty seconds when he told me he was allergic to pussy.”
“Oh my God, stop!” Nicole wheezes because she’s laughing so hard.
“I mean, I’m not an expert on the opposite sex, but is that really a thing?”
“Excuse me,” a gentleman says, sliding in next to me and leaning against the bar. “Can I buy you a drink?”
I glance down at my whiskey sour—which is still more than half full—and wonder how men manage to function, let alone pick up women.
Then another gentleman, who I didn’t notice had sat down next to me at some point—or maybe he was here before me?
—says, “She already has a drink, and if you haven’t noticed from the Saint Laurent purse and matching heels, she’s capable of buying her own drink.
” He raises a finger to the bartender, and when he approaches, he says, “Whiskey, neat.”
The asshat standing between us huffs and walks away, giving me a perfect view of the gentleman who just saved me.
I suck at guessing ages, but with his messy brown hair, stubbled jaw, and the slight crinkles around his eyes, he looks to be around my age—late twenties.
But the way he carries himself in his Tom Ford suit—with his shoulders tense and his back straight, his eyes alert and darting around the bar—it’s as if life has aged him several years.
“I’m Brielle,” I find myself saying. “And this is my friend Nicole.”
I never make the first move, but this guy has me intrigued. And I am here in hope of meeting a man and having sex with him so I can find out if I am in fact the problem.
“Kane,” he says, lifting his drink from the bar top and taking a sip.
My gaze goes to his throat and the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows while I wait for him to elaborate. When he doesn’t, I glance at Nicole, and she quirks a brow, obviously equally intrigued by him.
“Do you live in Harbor Point?” I ask, making conversation.
The city is small, and since it’s split between North Harbor Point, where the upper class reside, and South Harbor Point, where the middle and lower class live, I’m surprised I haven’t seen him around before.
“I do now,” he says cryptically.
Another sip.
No elaboration.
I’m about to give up—because I don’t beg for any man’s attention—when he turns toward me and says, “Because I think you’re the kind of woman who’ll appreciate it, I’m going to get straight to the point.
I have a room upstairs. Nothing fancy. Just a place to sleep while I wait for my stuff to arrive.
Bed is comfortable, and I promise to make you come at least twice before you sneak out … three times if you spend the night.”
I’m so taken aback by his comment that I snort out a laugh, and the drink I was nursing splashes over my glass and all over my hand.
“Excuse me?” I scoff, unsure if I should be turned on or offended. I’m slightly mortified that I’m leaning toward the former more than the latter.
“Don’t play games.” His eyes, the same color as the whiskey he’s drinking, meet mine. “I heard you tell your friend that asshole you were dating was incapable of making you come …”
“And don’t forget about the guy who was allergic to pussy,” Nicole adds with a smile at the same time I hiss, “Are you stalking me?”
“Did you not just hear where I’m staying?” Kane says dryly. “I came to the bar to grab a drink, and it wasn’t difficult to hear you telling her about your lacking sex life.”
Oh, right. He’s staying at the country club.
I glance at him just in time to see his tongue slide across his pouty lips, wetting them.
I consider playing hard to get, but this guy is offering to make me come twice—yes, I heard the part about three times, but I’m not spending the night.
If he can make me come once, it will be more than what Theo could do during the months that we were together.
“And I can assure you that I’m not allergic to pussy.” He stands and extends his hand for me to take. “You coming?”
“I sure as hell hope so.”
“Are you sure about this?” Nicole asks.
After Kane propositioned me, she dragged me to the restroom to make sure this was really what I wanted to do.
“Yeah, I need to do this. To know if it’s me … if I’m the problem.”
She grins. “Look at you, quoting T. Swift.”
She starts to sing the song, and I roll my eyes. The woman is a professional Swiftie.
“Okay, go,” she says once she’s done. “Go see if you’re the problem. But make sure you text me his room number in case I need the police to find you and call me afterward so I know you’re alive.”
“Will do.” I pull my keys out of my purse, but she shakes her head.
“I’m good. I’m going to have another drink and then take an Uber home.”
After we freshen up, I give her a hug, and then Kane and I head up to his room.