19. Conflicted
Conflicted
Bastian
I was so angry that I might explode like a fucking bomb, taking buildings, roads, and trees with me. Shit! I was furious. Not at Electra or my idiotic brother, who, probably for the first time in his life, wasn’t the one to blame. I was pissed at myself. I should’ve known about this!
First, my PI messed up with Peter’s daughter and his girlfriend, and now this? He got a lot of money every month to give me helpful information, and he failed twice in a row. I should’ve been aware of this!
My motorcycle speeded through the city. The road was a blur.
Since meeting Electra, I’d avoided adrenaline sports because she would fear how crazy I was, but I desperately craved it.
My mind had to forget about that awful conversation and the fucked-up situation.
I knew it wouldn’t be easy. Not because of the sex part.
Thinking that my princess was a virgin when I started to date her would be extremely naive. Yet this was too much, even for me.
I was open-minded and respectful when it came to someone’s preferences. Still, the woman of my dreams slept with my brother, claiming that he fulfilled her fantasy. How the fuck could I live with that ?
I should be the one to do that, to be the man who would help her to discover the darkest corners of her soul, her deepest desires, things she was ashamed of but yearned to try.
I should be her partner, her rock, her safe haven.
And I did everything in my power to accomplish that.
I supported her every step of the way, giving her what she needed.
Almost every night, I held her in my arms while she cried in her sleep.
I persuaded her to work on herself in the gym, not because she wasn’t attractive and desirable to me, but because it would boost her confidence and make her feel better.
I intentionally forced her to give a speech in the opening because she needed to acknowledge how wonderful she was.
I wanted her to see herself through my eyes.
If it went by my playbook, I wouldn’t change one thing about her.
She was perfect in every way, but she desperately needed to move on with her life, with everything.
She could become anything she wanted and forget this PA nonsense.
I had resources, and I would give her the world.
All she had to do was tell me what the hell she wanted.
But, just on the contrary, instead of building our life together, she broke my heart with one awful statement. One fucking sentence crushed me like an annoying mosquito.
Ten years ago, when my relationship with Rose ended, I was devastated, burning from the inside. The rage consumed me because it was my fault that we separated ways. And I believed that I would never experience that kind of anger, shame, and disappointment with myself.
However, this was much worse. I felt like a total failure like I was the biggest mistake in Electra’s life, like I didn’t do enough to be worthy of her, when in reality, all of this, what was smashing me to smithereens, happened before she met me.
Actually, only that one thought was keeping me sane. Because if she ever slept with another man after we got together, I would’ve been on a killing spree right now.
Fuck! I was deep in this .
I gripped the handlebars tighter when the image of my princess and brother appeared before my eyes.
I knew something wasn’t right. I fucking knew it, and I didn’t listen to my instincts.
I could have avoided this, talked to Peter, and never made Electra so afraid of what I might do that she’d told me the first thing that looked like a good idea to stop me.
Even after such a shock, my brain worked properly. The healthy part knew that I was overreacting, but the crazy part demanded an explanation. And only one man could provide that.
Maybe if Peter confirmed Electra’s words, I would feel better.
I would know that she didn’t lie to cover his pathetic ass, and I would let him stay.
But I would break him in half if I notice the slightest hesitation with his answer.
I didn’t care that he was my brother; he would end up in the ICU if he hurt my princess.
I parked the motorcycle outside my club, and one of the bodyguards immediately joined me. It wasn’t the building where the BDSM den was placed. This was a high-class, elegant spot for wealthy people to get drunk without annoying reporters and fans.
Everything was luxurious and highly comfortable. Even the half-naked waitresses were dressed in lingerie for thousands of dollars. And, of course, they served not only the best alcohol on the continent but also the cocaine of exquisite quality.
Not one cop in the entire city dared to step foot here. My name was enough to keep them away. But when the information about my connections leaked, they just walked by without one glance.
As I entered my VIP lounge, one blonde girl handed me my usual glass of whiskey, and another took my leather jacket. I looked around, but the place was unusually empty. The majority of my friends were still at my new firm’s after-party.
“Is Andreas here?” I barked at one of the servers, who flinched. I glowered at her trembling frame, unsure if this was the right place for her.
“He’s outside,” the bodyguard answered instead of her because she was staring at me with her mouth open like I had just grown another head .
“What’s wrong with her?” I asked, sitting on the bar stool and sipping my drink.
Opposite me stood an almost sixty-year-old woman who was also the manager of this place.
Her red hair and extravagant clothes were in big contrast with her age, but given her nature, I should be glad she wasn’t dressed the same way as the rest of the girls.
I respected and valued her work no matter what, yet seeing her two hundred and fifty pounds in underwear was too much. Maybe if two bottles of whiskey coursed through my veins, I wouldn’t mind. But I didn’t want to try my chances.
“She is new, and you roared at her like a fucking lion,” Denise answered, frowning at me. “Where are your manners, Sebastian?”
I hated it when she talked to me in this tone. She sounded exactly like my mother when she scolded me.
“I don’t need employees who are afraid of the customers,” I retorted, annoyed. I didn’t want to fight with her because I was on edge, and taking my anger out on her would be rude. We were friends; she didn’t deserve it.
“She is young, beautiful, and she needs money,” Denise objected, giving me a pointed look and an exasperated sigh escaped my mouth.
“I’m a businessman, Denise, not a charity,” I groaned, tired of all of this bullshit. Every day, someone needed help, a job, money, or health care, and somehow, I constantly ended up on the wrong side of the equation. They always asked me for it.
I’m not fucking Santa Claus!
The sound of breaking glass interrupted Denise’s response, and I turned in the direction of the noise. The girl from earlier was already on her knees, taking pieces of a smashed bottle with her bare hands.
“And she is also the clever one,” I deadpanned, waving at my bodyguard to take her away. Some severe cutting was precisely what we didn’t need.
“What happened here?” I heard Andreas’ voice a few seconds before he sat beside me, glancing at the shaking girl. She could be around twenty, but she looked younger. Her black shoulder-length hair framed her face, and her big brown eyes were filled with fear. She was totally out of place .
“Since when are we hiring kids?” I inquired in a raised voice when Denise returned with a new bottle and handed it to another waitress. The girl shot me a scared glance, drifting her gaze quickly to her hands when Andreas snickered.
“I told you, Sebastian. She needs money. Her brother is sick,” my motherly manager responded, leaning against the bar. We had a very inappropriate view of her almost naked breasts.
“I’ll pay for the b-bottle, Mr. Thorn,” the girl said out of the blue, and my brows shot up. I almost smiled. My anger slowly dissipated because I was distracted by this kind of funny situation.
“Really?” Andreas chuckled, raising his glass. “It’s a five-thousand-dollar bottle. I didn’t know your salary was so good, honey.”
“W-What?” she stammered; her eyes were as big as saucers. The expression on her face was a mix of horror and fear. She was probably calculating how long she had to work here to pay for an overpriced bourbon.
“Go somewhere, do something,” I commanded, and Denise quickly took the girl away. I shook my head, and Andreas suppressed a laugh. But she didn’t forget to raise her index finger at me and mouth the word “asshole.”
“So, what’s the emergency?” Andreas asked when we were finally alone. “I came here straight from the airport. You sounded like a lunatic.”
I didn’t need to think hard about telling him everything.
Yet maybe it was a mistake because I felt as the rage returned to my body, eating my soul.
A picture of Peter hungrily staring at Electra in my office was imprinted into my brain, and with every gulp of alcohol, the hatred against him intensified.
I couldn’t get drunk because I would kill him. That much I knew. The combination of whiskey, jealousy, and possessiveness was perilous. Still, the taste of alcohol burning my tongue and my throat, at least for a moment, removed that hideous image from my mind.
“Don’t you think you’re overreacting a little?” Andreas inquired, clinking his glass with mine and loosening his tie. He was tired; dark circles appeared under his eyes, but he would never leave me like this alone .
“I’m sure I’m overreacting,” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes. “I just can’t help myself. Have you heard what she told me?”
“Yes.” He nodded, cautiously watching me. “There is no one to blame here. You can either break up with her because of absolute stupidity or move on.”
“She slept with Peter!” I groaned, and he shrugged.
“Before she met you,” he answered nonchalantly, like it was no big deal, when in reality, if his wife had ever had sex with one of his brothers, he would have murdered us all.
“That’s not the point!” I yelled, feeling conflicted. I didn’t even know what I wanted to say.
“I know,” he stated calmly, pouring me another large amount of magical liquid. “Your offended ego is the point.”
“What?” I barked, slamming my palm against the glass surface of the bar. He was pissing me off with his attitude.
“Just because she said that she liked it with Peter doesn’t mean that you’re not good at all,” he clarified, chuckling when I shot him a murderous look.
I clenched my jaw so hard that the bones almost cracked.
Again, I was furious. “You know that she adores you. Why are you torturing yourself like this?”
“What if he raped her?” I grumbled, fisting my palms.
“She denied it,” he objected, furrowing his eyebrows.
“Maybe she was trying to save his ass, stopping me from...” I didn’t finish, I couldn’t.
“You’re paranoid,” he sighed, fishing his phone out of his pants pocket and checking it. “But you can ask Pete because he just came.”
“Great,” I growled, turning towards the entrance and waiting for my brother to join us.
I sent my men for him because I wasn’t prepared to wait until the morning.
I had to know his answer and see his face when I surprised him with the question.
My brain was slightly dizzy from all the alcohol I had already drunk, yet I was sure about one thing.
If his version didn’t match Electra’s, he was in a deep shit.