CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
ZANDER
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Technically—ethically—I need to do as my client asks, which is to replace myself with a new attorney. But why start following the law now?
I’ve already crossed the line, and if Courtney wanted to, she could report me. After she left my office, I couldn’t focus, but one thing I knew for sure: I didn’t want anyone else stepping into my shoes.
I don’t think she really wants that either.
Maybe you should have used a condom!
You would be more believable if I wasn’t the second man you’d fucked since leaving your husband.
We both said things we didn’t mean that afternoon. Even if we did mean them, we didn’t mean to hurt one another. I can’t get her pained, tear-stained face out of my mind.
I feel like a caged tiger.
I added to her upset and stress. Adam Blackmore is a piece of shit. I don’t like liars and bullies, nor men who put their hands on women. I want to destroy that asshole and make sure Courtney gets what she’s legally entitled to.
Then we can walk away from one another.
Sure, if she’s not carrying my goddamn baby!
It’s been four days since I last saw her and I can’t stop wondering if she has done a test.
I owe her an apology, either way. I panicked. The thought of settling down, being manipulated or trapped by a woman has been highly triggering after what happened to Jack. That means I should have fucking used a condom or walked away. Half of this problem is mine.
We have yet to get confirmation that the photo is fake, but the initial response is yes, very likely it’s not real. Did Blackmore think he would get away with it? What a fucking idiot.
As am I.
I immediately jumped to conclusions because I was freaking out.
I need to focus on work.
I need to stop thinking about her and how I may be a goddamn father.
I need her in my arms and to know she’s okay while wringing her stupid pretty neck and finding out once and for all if my child is growing inside her.
Instead, an hour later, I ring Dereck, and we head to the club. Terrance and I pick him up on the way.
“Hey, man,” Dereck says, climbing into the back of the black Maybach. “Damon is meeting us there.”
“Nice. How’s your day been?” I ask, grateful to focus on anything else but Courtney.
Which is a lie.
I still am.
“Wonder if Colt will be there?” I say mindlessly, unsure what the protocol is now that he’s engaged to Riley. And if he is there, would he sit and chat while some blonde slides my dick down her throat like the good old days?
Do I want that?
“Busy as hell right now. I’m ready for a beer and blowjob.”
I smile, glancing out the window, then a thought occurs to me.
“What happened with Courtney’s friend after the gala? Did you take her home? Kylie, the model?”
Christ, if he’s involved with her, that could complicate things after my case is done with Court.
God, what if she is fucking pregnant?
Stop thinking about it.
Fuck sakes. I was supposed to be distracting myself.
Not going over and over the possibility of becoming a single father.
Wouldn’t that be ironic? All my life I’ve worried that I’d fall for a woman who just wanted me for my money, like that snake Sandy, when all along it was my sperm that was at stake.
I’m to blame.
I should have used a condom.
To be fair, neither event was planned, but where was my restraint? More to the point, where was my brain? Christ, Sebastian would have a field day if he found out what was happening after warning me.
“Yeah, Kylie Spencer. I escorted her home like a sixteenth-century idiot.” Dereck rubs the side of his cheek as I chuckle.
“She let me kiss her and then closed the door in my face.”
“Come on,” I laugh, not believing him. The guy is seriously rich, handsome as fuck, and has a yacht. Those three things get him almost any woman he wants.
Kylie fits into the almost category, clearly.
“Did you tell her about the yacht?”
“I don’t use my assets to get laid. My cock is ten inches long.”
Even Terrance laughs.
“Come on,” I say again, as I flick Colt a message, asking if he’s working from the club. It’s just after six, and he shared that he’s been working from his Manhattan office more often.
“She’s a supermodel, and I think she is looking for something serious.” Dereck gives me that look. “I got the vibe, you know the one.”
“Oh, I know the one. Run for the hills, man.”
“Or, in our case, the club.”
We both laugh.
I’m here, but not for long. I’m joining you for a drink. One drink, Colt replies.
Pre-Courtney-me wouldn’t understand, but if things were different and I could go home and make love to her instead, I probably would.
Um, what?
Ignoring that, I focus on how Colt’s fiancée, Riley, is pregnant. He’s probably eager as hell to get home. I’ve heard talk over the years about how horny women get because of all the hormones.
Go back to what you said before. No. Shut up.
Christ, I’m losing it.
The hunt has been what I love. The challenge, the flirtatious dance, and dopamine hit when you slam a girl against the wall and rip her dress up or push her to her knees.
The women at the club are willing to do naughty things that would make most good girls squeal. Some because they crave it—I know because I’ve fucked them too!
Different women.
Different pussies.
Sweet, salty, and spicy.
Breasts of all sizes and assholes that love my finger sliding in, and some that don’t.
The closer we get to the club, as Dereck tells me about work, my mind drifts to Courtney. It’s like I have no control of it as I imagine her barefoot in the kitchen, no panties, a cotton T-shirt and...
Swollen belly.
Fuck.
I rip my phone out again.
Order us a bottle of tequila. I have Dereck with me and Damon is joining.
What are we celebrating? Colt replies.
For a guy that owns a bar, he sure is stupid; champagne is for celebrations, tequila drowns a man’s sins.
If only it were that easy.
––––––––
LAST TIME I left this place, I was tanked and ended up at Courtney’s. I’m not making that mistake again. I told Terrance to get himself something to eat and then return for me in three hours.
Freddie stays with me.
They’re both instructed to make sure I go home. Straight home. Nowhere else.
“Boys,” Colt greets us when we arrive, and we all do the man-hug thing, then he leads us into the private area he had designed for us when building the club.
It never gets hired out to anyone.
That will end when he sells it.
“You sure you want tequila?” Colt asks, waving Damon in, who pulled up behind us.
“What are we celebrating?” Damon asks, slapping Dereck on the back with a grin.
“Does nobody know the rules?” I flop down on the sofa that’s almost as familiar as my own. “The bubbly stuff is for celebrations. The hard stuff is to wash away the bullshit.”
“The settlement not going well?” Colt asks, sliding a hand into his pocket. “Saw Blackmore on social media earlier this week.”
He made some snide post about me, but the comments backfired. My reputation as the shark literally bit him in the ass, as people asked if I was eating him alive.
Couldn’t help it, I laughed.
“He can keep digging his own grave while my team finds the dirt I am certain he’s hiding.” I shrug.
“What about the wife? Courtney?” Damon asks.
The wife.
As if she were one of the assets the billionaire is doing away with. Which is exactly how he’s treating her. Worse in some ways.
“She was at the gala, dickface.” Dereck kicks his stepcousin. “Don’t call her the wife.”
“Settle down, it’s not like she’s Zander’s wife.” Damon rolls his eyes as I almost choke. “Any dirt on her that’s sticking?”
Not unless someone finds out that I fucked her. Twice. And maybe impregnated her.
“Nope.”
That would destroy both our lives.
“You told me once everyone has some dirt.” Colt lifts a brow and shifts so the server can place shot glasses in front of each of us. “Don’t tell me your client is pure and innocent.”
I lift my shot glass into the air in cheers, toss it down, let out a loud groan, and slam it down.
“Nope. She’s no saint.”
But Courtney is mine to protect, and they know even if she were the devil incarnate, I couldn’t tell them.
More shots are poured, and the topic shifts.
Terrance wanders in three hours later, as planned, and I wave him over.
“Have a tequila shot, Terrance my man.” I grin stupidly. “Come party.”
“No, thanks, boss.” He crosses his arms. “Ready to go?”
“Nah. I’m gonna buy this place. You want a new job?”
“Nope.” He shakes his head.
“Look at all the women.” I spread out my arms and smile at the three brunettes, one not natural redhead, and a buxom blonde.
My zip hasn’t moved once.
For the record, Your Honor.
I snigger at my inside joke.
The blonde, Tina, offered, but her green eyes immediately made me think of Courtney. Courtney, who might be growing my baby inside her.
Fucking baby.
Fucking Courtney.
I throw back another tequila.
“Time to go.”
“No, thanks, Mom. I’m buying a business.” I message Colt again and he sends me another clown emoji.
Goddamn him.
I push the green button, and it rings.
And rings.
Finally, Colt answers. “Zander, go home.”
“Accept my offer. Ten mill.”
“I’m not selling you the club.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“Because you’re trashed, and something is up with you.” His voice is muffled, like he wiped his hand over his face.
“Nothing is up. I’m rich, sexy, and handsome. Fine, one hundred and twenty mill.”
That’s quite a leap up in offer, but I want to get this deal done tonight.
“You’re lucky you’re one of my best friends, or I’d take that offer and have you sign the paperwork before morning.” Colt mutters something about me being an idiot.
It’s true, he would.
“Throw another hundred mill on the offer, and we can be partners,” Dereck says, then lets out a moan as the redhead goes down on him again. “Jesus, we can’t lose this place.”
I point my finger at him. “My point exactly! This place is priceless. A clean billion. Take it or leave it.”
“Go home,” Colt growls. “And I’m turning my phone off.”
Spoiled sport.
My phone goes dead, and I glance around. I don’t want to participate. Courtney has broken my dick.
I should tell her. That’s what I need to do. I need to tell her right now.
As if Terrance can read my mind, he shakes his head at me.
He knows.
I know he knows.
But he’s been loyal to me for almost ten years, and I love the son of a bitch.
“You want me to buy you a business, Terrance?” I kick my feet up on the table, feeling sentimental. “You could get a nanny and have more sniveling kids.”
Freddie snorts, but I know he’s on my driver’s side. The meanies.
“Nope. I want you to get your ass in the car so I can take you home and then go home to my wife and make love to her,” Terrance says.
Love is fake.
“Love isn’t real my friend. Look around. This is all people want.” I spot Damon fingering a brunette as she sucks on his mouth. “Sex. It’s all about procreation to keep the species in existence.”
“That what you really think?” Terrance frowns.
“Yup. But you might as well be rich while all the fucking is happening, so next time I offer to buy you a business, you say yes. Tonight’s offer has now expired.” I chuckle into my next shot as I toss it back.
Terrance sighs.
“Okay, time’s up.” Freddie pushes off the wall. “Let’s get him in the car.”
“I’m not five.” I laugh and knock the bottle of tequila over. The liquid spills on the table. “Shit, this is a two-thousand-dollar bottle.”
“Well, Mr. Sterling.” Terrace takes my arm. “Best you get some rest so you can get back to making all that money and doing more fucking.”
He has a point.
Which is the only reason I let them lead me to the car and take me home.
Straight home.
When I wake the next morning, I make sure I didn’t actually buy the Obsidian Club.
Whew, I didn’t.
But I did message Courtney seven times...and not about her divorce.
Shit.