Page 38 of The Sculptor

Iignored her texts and calls.

All one hundred and twenty-five of them.

Let this be her reminder that my patience is not infinite. She’s cute, and I love the fight in her, but I’ve waited nearly twenty years for her to return to me, and this is what I find. Her engaged to a pompous ass fiancé, who is currently lounged back in his leather chair, motorboating some college student’s tits the night before he intends to marry her.

Yeah, no.

I’m drawing the line right fucking here.

“Tell me, Dr. Potter, have you ever enjoyed the tits you’ve sculpted?”

I puff on the cheap cigars Remington picked up for this special occasion—the boy knows how to impress. “I can’t say that I have, Langs.” I’ve resorted to unprofessionalism. It started when His Highness put his grubby hands on my girl.

Langston chuckles, not addressing the new nickname. “Don’t tell me you’re like your brothers.”

I cock a brow. “Like them? As in respecting patients and protecting their dignity while in our care?” I nod, taking another puff and blowing out a ring of smoke in front of me. “Yeah, I guess you could say I am like my brothers—we have a problem losing those pesky morals.”

At the mention of morals, Langston pauses his sloppy show of motorboating and leans around the woman on his lap to take a long, lingering look at me. “Be careful, boy. Some might think you’re insinuating that you are above your present company.”

Oh, that’s exactly what I think, Langston. I think I am sitting among several dumpsters of trash claiming to be men.

“Not what I think at all, sir.” I shoot him a look that says he’s clearly overreacting and lean back in my chair, changing the subject to something more intriguing. “So… Ms. Ford. How did you meet her?”

I don’t need Ramsey to spill her secrets. Her drunk fiancé will do it willingly, with bad cigars and tits. Ramsey had her go at him—whatever that was—and she failed. Now, it’s my turn.

“Ah, Ms. Ford.” He jiggles the woman on his lap, giving her ass a slap. “Her father, Congressman Ford, and I are friends.”

Figures. Shit usually floats together in the same bowl.

“Congressman Ford”—I roll the name around like it’s not familiar—“set you up with his daughter?”

Langston takes a sip of his drink and nods, pointing at me with his cigar. “It was the damndest thing. Out of the blue, he calls me and says his daughter is in desperate need of taming.”

I chuckle. No one, especially a man, will tame Ramsey Ford. She is meant to be untethered. She’s the wildfire burning out of control. Nothing will douse her flame.

Langston clears his throat. “I wasn’t looking for wife number five yet, but I can never say no to the young ones with daddy issues.”

I have to clench my fists to stay seated. Ramsey might have her issues, but she doesn’t deserve to be put in a box. Humans aren’t one thing. We aren’t our political party. We aren’t our fears and scars. We are living, breathing, evolving beings who break and heal. The past doesn’t define who or what we become. We are freedom in the flesh. We are our failures. And we are our successes. Nothing can define us, but us.

“Interesting,” I muse. “So, you guys fell in love quickly, then?”

Langston nods. “She was all over me, wanting to move in here just after a week of meeting.”

That doesn’t surprise me at all. I knew Ramsey was up to something. Whatever it is, she thinks Langston has it. The question is, what does he have that can end the screams in our heads?

The girl on Langston’s lap moans, grabbing my attention.

“I can’t wait for this wedding to be over.” Langston groans, sucking one of her nipples into his mouth, and God bless the woman for acting like she enjoys it.

“Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve felt the love of a woman?” he asks me.

I pause, acting like his comment didn’t catch me off guard. “Are you saying your lady loves tradition?”

Please say yes. Even though I know Ramsey couldn’t give eight shits about tradition.

Langston growls, and it sounds more pissed than tortured. “She wants to wait until we’re married to have sex. She refuses to even sleep in the same room together.”

That’s my girl, Ray. Play dirty.

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