CHAPTER 31
NOW
NICKY
“Tell me again how the hell you two talked me into this shit?” I glance around the park, taking in the sight of the outdoor space that has been recently transformed by the hundreds of twinkle lights strung up along the sheer canopies serving as a barrier between the temporarily constructed dance floor and the night sky. Various bars have been set up around the perimeter, while wait staff circulate throughout the party with premixed cocktails.
“Because you never go anywhere with us anymore.” Rico moves to stand beside me, swiping a drink from a passing tray. “And we were due a boys’ night.”
“This isn’t a boys’ night.” My gaze continues to wander, conscious to never linger too long on any of the scantily dressed women currently roaming about like lionesses on the prowl. I’m not trying to give any of them the wrong idea. “This is a fucking hunting party. Who does this shit on a Monday night?”
“It’s a pop-up mixer.” JP joins us on my opposite side and, unlike me, he’s incredibly thorough in the eye-fucking he delivers to each of his prospects. “They’re like a whole new social scene. This one’s super exclusive—invite only. You get notified of the time and location twelve hours beforehand.”
I shove my hands into my pockets, my head shifting toward JP to pin him with a glare. “Our invitations wouldn’t happen to be dependent on our net worth, would they?”
“Well,” Rico interjects, continuing to sip on the dark red concoction, “not one of the men at this event is worth less than seven figures, so take it as you will.”
“Goddammit.” I sigh, dipping my head to the floor. “You two couldn’t stick to Tinder for your hook-ups?”
“Bro, what’s the issue? These chicks are solid 10s. And you see the way they’re eye-fucking us?” He gestures in a sweeping motion toward the party, as if to highlight his point.
“They’re not eye-fucking you, you dumb shit. They’re eye-fucking your bank account. Seven figures gets you in the door? Tell ‘em what you’re really worth. They’ll let you run a train on them in the middle of the dance floor.” I shift my attention back to Rico. “I’m surprised you were game for this.”
“You weren’t on those Tinder dates with us.” He shudders as though shaking off a chill.
“They obviously weren’t that bad considering you both brought them back to the house. Which brings me to my next issue.”
“Here we go,” JP mutters, retrieving his own drink from one of the circulating waitresses.
“I had to dig my iPhone out from under your bare ass Friday night as your dick was being inhaled by the human equivalent of a Dyson vacuum. So, yeah, here we fucking go. You live in a 3,000 square foot guesthouse. Should you bring a girl home tonight, do us all a favor and fuck her there.”
“I don’t see Rico getting a lecture on this.”
“Rico doesn’t fuck on top of my shit.”
“I said I was sorry!” he snaps defensively. “Jesus, any chance you’ll be pulling that stick from your ass tonight? Because you’re good-looking, Nick, but that attitude ain’t doing you any favors.”
“I guess that’s more pussy for you two, then, isn’t it?”
“You could do with some pussy right about now. When was the last time you even got laid? It’s not healthy to go so long without a release.”
A release isn’t my problem. In the last few months, I’ve jerked it so much I’m thankful it hasn’t fallen off. Each time, it’s to various images of the same person. Those emerald irises glancing up at me out from under her long dark lashes. The swell of her bottom lip as her teeth sink into the pouty cushion. The flare of her hips as I’m watching her ass bounce on top of me. God, just the fucking thought of her drives me wild, whereas the sight of these other women doesn’t invoke so much as a twitch in my cock. The idea of taking anyone else home is so damn ridiculous, it’s downright laughable.
“Not gonna happen.” My jaw clenches, Rico instantly homing in on my frustration.
“Daph still dodging your texts?”
“She’s probably just busy,” I’m quick to offer, hoping he’ll drop it.
After dinner on Friday, I thought Daph and I were in a good place. However, I apparently misinterpreted that entirely because she’s done nothing but leave me on Read since. I’ve analyzed every second from our time together that night trying to figure out where I went wrong, and I’m at a total fucking loss.
“It’s for the best, Nick. Let her move on.” This is exactly why I don’t want to discuss it. He’s so quick to lecture me like I don’t want what’s best for her. Let her move on. Does he think I want her to spend her life wrapped up with the likes of me? No. She deserves a hell of a lot more than that. Of course, I want her to move on… just not with him.
“I need a drink.”
I stalk off toward one of the bars, effectively killing the conversation before it gains any traction. By the grace of some higher power, I manage to make it across the space without falling prey to any mindless conversational exchanges and am able to order my whiskey in peace.
Unfortunately, it’s a short-lived victory.
“Well, well, well.” Her long blonde hair swishes into my peripheral, her red talons coming to rest on my forearm as she sidles up beside me. “If it isn’t the king himself. How goes things, your majesty?”
Amber fucking Walsh. Certified gold-digger, Grade-A bitch, girlfriend to Maverick Bishop, and star contributing factor to why my sister ran 3,000 miles away for college.
“Amber.” My hand covers hers as I peel her palm from my suit jacket, discarding it to the side as one would a piece of lint. “Does Bishop know you’re off your leash?”
“Mav doesn’t own me, Nick. I do what I please.”
An event that boasts exclusivity and only caters to the wealthy? No surprise the little attention whore managed to snag an invite. If there’s one thing this bitch lives for, it’s feeling like she’s somebody.
“We both know Maverick doesn’t give a fraction of a fuck when it comes to what or who you do.” The bartender slides the rocks glass across the surface as I toss a hundred into his tip jar. “Let’s be real, sweetheart. When people see you out flaunting your shit, the last thing anyone’s thinking is Bishop’s home waiting on you.”
I turn, sparing her a glance before my gaze shifts out to the crowd before us.
“Heard your sister’s home. Hopefully there’s no hard feelings there.”
“That’s fucking cute you think you matter enough to take up real estate in my sister’s head.” I slowly sip the amber liquid, taking a moment to savor it before delivering my final blow. “I’ll be sure to let her know you’re thinking of her, though. Must be all that time you spend staring up at her portrait while Mav’s dick is in your mouth.”
“Fuck you, Nicky.” She snarls.
I chuckle in response. “I would gladly fuck myself a hundred times over before sticking it in your nasty cunt.”
“Nick.” JP rushes over, his frantic disposition giving rise to a sense of apprehension stirring within me. “Heads up.”
“Hey, JP.” Amber reaches out, dragging a finger down the front of his tie.
JP dismissively swats at her, barely glancing her way. “Keep it moving, twat waffle.”
She flips us off, neither one of us bothering to acknowledge the gesture before she stomps away into the crowd.
“Devoreaux’s here.” The words rush from his mouth, the revelation carrying some heightened sense of urgency.
“What?” My brows pull together, my head swiveling in search of him.
“Lucian. He’s over by the bar closest to the river.”
Shifting my gaze, I quickly locate him right where JP said he’d be. He’s carrying on at the center of a small group, laughing it up as a carbon copy socialite bimbo clings to each arm. That motherfucker, out here making a joke of Daph like all these people don’t know he’s engaged. That shit ends now.
“Wait. Wait!” JP grabs the back of my jacket, pulling me back to him. “That’s not why I came over here. When I saw him, it made me remember something.”
His words spark my interest, momentarily redirecting my attention to whatever he’s about to say.
“You said Daph’s been dodging you, but you haven’t been able to figure out why. The night I had the girl over, your phone rang while she was sucking me off. I thought it was hers at first, then mine. I was pretty fucked up at the time.”
“JP, what are you trying to say?”
“She answered it, Nick. She answered the phone thinking it was hers.”
I feel all the blood drain from my face, the sight evoking a heavy swallow from JP.
“I didn’t hear who it was, but what if…”
I rip the phone free from my pocket, almost tearing my jacket in the process. Swiping into my missed calls, I scroll down, only to have my heart sink when I see her name.
DEMON
Friday. 9:11 p.m. 47 seconds.
My hand swipes up to tug at the roots of my hair, my grip tightening to the point of pain in hopes this whole thing is simply a nightmare I can wake from.
“Nick,” JP reaches out, attempting to comfort me. “I’m sorry.”
I thrust out my arm, snatching him up by the collar with one hand as I point at him with my other. “Fuck in your own house from now on!”
Releasing him with a slight shove, I take off for the car, pulling up the tracking software I installed in her phone while she was catching up with my sister the other night—unbeknownst to her, of course.
The coordinates display across my screen letting me know she’s home, and I tear out of the lot to correct at least one miscommunication I refuse to let stand.