Page 56 of Brutal

He blinks at me, looking briefly taken aback. I don’t think he’s going to respond for a moment, but then he shrugs. “No. I don’t need to know them to have fun with them. And Chase is fine when he isn’t listening to Hunter’s bullshit.”

“I guess so,” I answer. It sounds pretty sad to me, but I’ve always preferred a few good friends over a vast network of acquaintances.

Not that I’d had those good friends. Maybe a few people at college are wondering where I am, but for the most part, I’d been a loner.

I guess I’m not so different from Drake in that regard.

CHAPTER 14

Drake

Mimosa is asleep on the bed when I go back to her, hours later. The dress has ridden up on her body, exposing her ass and the teeny tiny panties I’d made her wear.

The party has wound down, and only a handful of people remain.

Those are the ones I personally selected, the ones I know I can trust.

Maybe I’m being paranoid, but I got the distinct feeling that some of them were just there to get gossip to spread around.

I probably should’ve limited some of what was available, but I can’t control what my guests do when I’m busy with other people.

Like doing lines of coke I definitely missed out on.

I pop one of the pills Patrick gave me, frowning as I see that I’m almost out. Again. Fuck. I’m going to need more in the next few days, even though this should’ve lasted me the full vacation time.

It’s just so fucking hard to function without them. Every little thing gets to me, setting me on edge or ruining my mood. With them, I can at least cope.

For a little while, anyway.

When I’m done, I go back to Mimosa, sliding my hand over her ass. I’m tempted to grope her pussy, too, and I don’t know why I refrain from doing it. “Time to wake up,” I murmur to her, reaching up to stroke her now-tousled hair.

Mimosa startles awake and pulls her legs up. She looks around the room, her eyes finally settling on me.

“Is the party over?” she asks, slowly sitting up.

“Nope,” I say, watching her closely. “It’s time for the afterparty.” My smile turns vulpine as I regard her. “That’s where the fun really happens, when there are no socialites and bitch associates from work. Ready?” I hold my hand out to her to help her off the bed.

She takes my hand, like she isn’t worried about what’s about to happen.

She has to know, right? I’d made it clear what kind of fun I expect at the afterparty.

Once standing, she lets go of my hand immediately to straighten out her dress. It doesn’t cover that much more, which is why I’d chosen it in the first place. There’s nothing sexier than a dress that just barely conceals things.

“Did you enjoy the party?” Mimosa asks in her usual deadpan.

I shrug. “It was okay.” Usually, I enjoy parties a lot more than I did tonight. There’s something about people scrambling for my attention — my praise, my presence — that just makes me feel good in a way even the drugs can’t touch sometimes. But all I’d been able to think about was Mimosa, and Chase’s behavior, and the reminders that I’m spiraling down. “Did you?”

Like I don’t already know the answer to that particular question.

Either way, she’s going to hate the afterparty more.

“It was interesting,” Mimosa says as I lead us out. “I got to know a little about the kinds of people you associate with.”

I don’t know what to make of that. Those were just people I interact with on a fairly regular basis at these events. The few people who are still remaining are the closest I have to an inner circle now that Chase and Hunter have started to snub me.

I try not to think about that, though. Instead, I take Mimosa’s hand and lead her back into the living room, trying to ignore the possessiveness nagging at me at the idea of what I’m about to do.

Patrick is the first to stand up and greet us, his eyes raking over Mimosa’s body. “Nice,” he says by way of greeting.

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