Page 130 of Mexico Can Choke On It
My mind wanders into dangerous territory—how would it be if this wasn’t temporary?If I could come home every night to find Petra sprawled across my bed in nothing but that smart mouth and a dare-me expression? Would this fire ever dim? Or would it always burn this intensely between us?
Coming home to Amanda was like entering a museum: sterile and lifeless. I’d find her organizing flowers or consulting with the chef about menus, every conversation centered on our social schedule or her newest charity committee. I never felt a spark of anticipation with Amanda. From the beginning, she was something I selected, like a mutual fund.
Petra is something Icrave.
It’s more than infatuation, I’m gone for her. This woman who argues with billionaires and tasers men in tuxedos. I’m addicted to her chaos.
When this ends, I’ll spend the rest of my life comparing every kiss, every touch, every connection to what I had with her. Nothing else will come close.How the hell can I go back to my life after this?
Keep her.
The words slip into my brain.
Petra Brinkman isn’t the type of woman who getskept. She’s not going to host charity luncheons or smile demurely at board dinners while I discuss mergers and acquisitions. She’d tear down the foundation of my world just to watch the rich people panic.
And I’d let her.
Jesus Christ, I am in trouble.
BZZZZ. BZZZZ.
My phone vibrates on the nightstand, and I actually snarl when I see the name glowing on the screen.
Reginald Sterling.
“Perfect timing,” I mutter.
Now he calls me back. The second I start envisioning a future with Petra in my life, my home, my bed.
I answer, and my voice slips into the polished tone that’s been programmed into me since childhood.
“Father.”
“Explain this nonsense about you and Amanda being over?”
No preamble. No pleasantries. Straight to the inquisition, as always.
“I’d expect you to have the foresight to inform me before you burn your most crucial personal alliance to the ground. But clearly, I overestimated.”
“That’s not why I called you earlier.”
“You phoned to confirm I leaked those boardroom whispers,” he says with that familiar edge of cruelty. “You know the answer. Consider the rumors a warning shot. I don’t fuck around, son.”
“Understood, sir.” I force steadiness into my voice and will my nerves to behave. “I believed we had an understanding that Heartvest is navigating crucial territory right now. The IPO timing—”
“Heartvest ceased being your responsibility the moment you signed the Sterling succession papers. Accept that truth, or I’ll force your hand with a public announcement at dawn.”
Heat floods my face while my hands turn numb. My throat constricts, as though someone’s tightening a noose, and suddenly the tropical Mexican air feels suffocating. Sweat breaks out across my forehead, and my vision starts to tunnel the way it did when I was twelve and he’d corner me in his office after some perceived failure.
My index finger begins its involuntary staccato against my leg.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
“Amanda’s waiting for your reconciliation call. Since both our families have kept your little breakup fiasco under wraps, we won’t have to contain any fallout.”
The words stick in my throat. “No. We ended our relationship. It was mutual—”
“Mutual?” His laugh is sharp. “That’s a generous interpretation. From what I heard, it was classic Bryce Sterling—unable to honor his commitments. Predictable and disappointing.”
