Page 2 of Wild Night

My savings are drained—completely.

It's been two years since I’ve set eyes on Lucian Whitmore, and I’m glad for it. I don’t even know if that’s his real name at this point. Maybe he’s not a real person. For all I know, he’s a damn ghost—a figment of my imagination. What if it turns out I imagined everything and that I’m the one with a mental health issue?

My attorney can’t find him—nobody can.

He’s been dust in the wind, but I think he might be back now, and I’m terrified about what that means. I’m afraid of what he’s going to do to me, what he’s going to expect from me. There’s a possibility at this point that we weren’t even legally married, although I think that would be too good to be true.

My phone buzzes in my hand as I smile down at the incoming text message. A few months ago, my niece found me. A niece I didn’t even know existed. She’s living in the mountains of North Carolina, and all the pictures she sends me make it look like a dream.

The text that comes in isn’t her typical picture of her newborn son. Instead, it’s an invitation to her wedding. Standing at the front of my car, I smile at the sight of the invite. I can’t believe she’s getting married. I love that she was able to not only overcome her past but find someone who loves her for her. Her fiancé, Bishop, sounds like a dream come true.

Then, my entire body freezes when I hear my name being called. When I lift my head, a chill slides down my spine. It’sLucian. Just as I suspected. Being lost inside my own head causes me to be caught off guard, though.

Inwardly, I’m angry with myself for that.

Lucian stands across the street, his glasses pointed straight at me, and he even jerks his chin in my direction.

“Daddy’s home,” he calls out, his lips curving up into what I can only describe as an evil grin.

Oh.

Hell.

No.

And.

Ew...daddy?

IVY

Almost forty-four.

What a fucking joke.

Bullet’s already had a kid and is getting married. Here I am, a practicing attorney, and I’ve never even thought about settling down. Never thought about a wife and a couple of kids. I didn’t think I’d never have them, but I also didn’t try to find anyone to have them with, either.

As I think about my childhood, my father, my mother, I wonder why I haven’t, why I didn’t ever dream of a wife and kids. I had a good life. I was given anything I wanted. I had the club. I had this law practice.

All I’ve ever had to do was work, make the grades, and prospect for the club. It worked, and here I am. Anything and everything I could want was handed to me on a silver platter. I’ve never had to work very hard for a damn thing other than do a bit of studying.

Everything has always been at my fingertips, ready for me to pluck it up without question. Women, jobs, money. Whatever it is, I’ve always had full access, and yet, I feel empty. I also feel like a pussy for admitting it, even if it’s to myself.

If I said any of this shit out loud, I know without a doubt I would be told to grow some balls.

I’ve had a lot better life than most of my brothers. I’ve got a mom and a dad, good ones. I had a wonderful childhood, and I remain close to my parents and other family members. My first cousin, Cidney, even works for me.

But something is missing.

I haven’t felt it until recently. Maybe it’s because I’m approaching forty-five, which is just one step closer to fifty. But I feel like I don’t have a hell of a lot to show for my life aside from some accolades, which, in the end, don’t mean a whole hell of a lot.

Standing from my seat, I sway slightly. I shouldn’t have come down here to party tonight. I should have stayed home. I have court in the morning, but I’m no good in the courtroom feeling like this and full of cum at the same time.

Hazzard is standing a few feet away from me, leaning against the wall, her eyes finding mine as soon as I sway. Her lips curl up into a grin. I watch as she pushes off the wall, but she doesn’t approach me.

She’s waiting for me, knowing I’m going to go to her, knowing I’m going to ask her to spread for me and take me. She pretends to be coy for me. I like that shit. I close the distance between us and stop just a few feet away.

Lifting my hand, I extend two fingers and touch them to the middle of her chest. Her breathing picks up, and she sounds as if she’s panting. Her eyes slowly lift to meet mine before she speaks.

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