Page 22 of CurVy Forever

“My favourite subject is you,” he mutters.

Fuck. My heart flips. I just decide to answer. “With paid promotions and Amazon associate commission from my blog, it’s enough to get by,” I admit, mentally noting my lack of consistency since the two mentally unstable Vaughn brothers interrupted my posting schedule. “I like to read. Basically, I can get paid to do it, and then talk about it.”

“You get paid to read pornography.

“Like a fucking lady does,” I confirm.

He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll give you money. You can just talk to me instead.”

I shake my head; his intensity is dizzying as always. “I like my job.” I’ve never taken a cent from my own parents, so I’m not taking anything from him or Donnie.

The car stops at the house, but we don’t move.

My breath hitches when I look at him, taking him all in. His eyes shift around, never settling on the house or outside for too long. He’s a magnificent sight. But I can’t stop myself from prying a little further. Dexter gave the air of wealth, but the boys never have. I wonder why? “What kind of companies?”

“Lots.” He looks at me and then through the window at his house. “Used to be agriculture. Then, times changed. Now, it’s mainly technology-based companies. My folks worked with the first IBM machine. Now it’s software development and stuff. Can we talk about your books instead?”

The lives of the rich and trust-funded puzzles me. All I know about his world was taught to me by Clueless and Gossip Girl.

I keep up my line of questions. “Do you or Donnie have a degree?” I ask, still trying to figure out how this all works. “Or any education in that area?”

He sighs roughly. “Dexter does. He’s got a computer engineering degree straight out of school. He was supposed to take over everything, but he drinks and fights. He did dirty deals and fucked everything up.” He shrugs as though that is that. The entire story.

“Right…”

I wonder if he was drunk when he took that little girl… Not that it excuses the behaviour in any way. Or what he did to her— I shudder at the thought.

“Have you ever had a job?”

“I was meant to be a composer.” He grips his hands between his knees, his blue gaze settling on the scars lashing his fingers. “I was meant to do that. It’s not like I’ve spent my entire life doing nothing. I’m not fucking lazy, Vallie Baby. I’m a hard worker.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“I spent ten hours a day on the ivories until my fingers cramped and my nailbeds bled. Lots of money went into my talent, but I had to bleed it out. I’m not right. You know this.”

I reach for him. “I wasn’t implying anything, Ty.”

“I have a record. No one wants to hire me, baby. I think I’d be a good dad, though. You see, that’s what I want. You. Me. Donnie. A baby. Your books. Our love.”

I inhale rationality, trying to control my heart’s desire to leap across and accept every word. I exhale impulsivity. “This again. That doesn’t give you the right to do what you did, Tyler. Just because you want something doesn’t mean I do. You can’t force this.” I dismiss the sincerity of his words and the pleading in his blue eyes with a wave. “And Donnie?”

“I didn’t force it. I was gentle. I told you,” he states curtly. Then reading my unimpressed expression he answers, “Donnie? Took over from Dex. He signs on the dotted line for the shareholders, and we have our trust.”

“Fuck…” I try not to sound impressed by the house towering over the car or swooned by Tyler Vaughn’s declaration of a forever with me. I've read hundreds of billionaire and mafia romances, and dreamed of being snatched away from my small unit in the suburbs to live in a house like this.

With three hot guys…

And a baby or two…

I said I was going to take this moment to moment. The Vaughn brothers are my ‘what-if.’ My deathbed regret... My ‘did I really live’? They are the risk I should take.

Right?

How long will I be here? Dunno. How long will Donnie be gone? Dunno. Is Dexter a monster and a paedophile? Dunno.

Ugh, Vallie.

But what-if you don’t?

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