Page 94 of Mexico Can Choke On It
Nude silk that looks like liquid champagne poured over every damn curve, overlaid with intricate black lace. The off-shoulder cut shows off her collarbones, and the plunge flashes enough skin to ruin me.
When did Gavin’s rebellious little sister transform into such a temptress? As a teenager, she was all sharp edges and defiant energy—beautiful in an untamed, dangerous way. But this woman before me…
She’s a celestial storm sent to test every ounce of willpower I possess.
“Well, looky here. If it isn’t the man who spent dinner learning about geriatric respiratory disorders just to avoid eye contact.”
Caught red-handed.
“I was being politeto a fellow guest.”
“Mmm-hmm,” she says with those probing hazel-green eyes. “It had nothing to do with me turning you into a malfunctioning robot during class.”
“You’re overestimating your influence, Pip. I simply lack coordination when it comes to Latin dance.”
She rubs her arms. On instinct, I shrug out of my tux jacket and drape it over her shoulders.
“Thanks, Moneybags. Though I should warn you, accepting gifts from billionaires goes against my principles.”
“It’s a jacket.”
“That’s how it starts. First clothes, then jewelry, and before you know it, I’m getting weekly Botox and referring to my housekeeper as ‘the domestic staff.’”
A snort escapes. “Impossible. You’d never be open to that type of corruption. You’re too…you.”
The words hang between us, more honest than I intended.
We fall into comfortable silence, facing the shore where the distant carnival pulses with life. I study the way the lights twinkle and blur across the water.
“You know what’s ironic, B? Those people are probably blowing their grocery money on overpriced rides and street tacos, but they’re having more fun than anyone on this boat.”
“You think money makes experiences less… authentic?”
“I think when you can buy anything, nothing feels special.” She shifts, my jacket slipping off one shoulder. “Seriously, when’s the last time you wanted something and had to question whether you could afford it?”
“You assume because I’m wealthy that I have unlimited choices.”
“That watch you’re wearing is worth more than most people’s houses.”
I glance down at the custom Patek Philippe—my grandfather’s watch. Four generations of Sterling expectations tick with every second.
“This watch comes with a price tag you can’t see. When you’re born with someone else’s ambitions, wanting things for yourself is a luxury that gets revoked.”
“Jesus. That’s the most beautiful description of a prison I’ve ever heard.”
“I never said it was a prison.”
“You didn’t have to. It’s written all over your pretty face.”
“What about you? You’re quick to dissect everyone else’s motivations. What drives Petra Brinkman?”
“Easy. Justice, fresh coffee, and to never have to wear a bra again.”
I find myself fighting a smile. “That simple?”
“The best things usually are, Moneybags,” she says, something earnest flickering in her eyes. “I give you a lot of shit, but I’ll say this. You’re one of the good ones, Bryce.”
My stomach goes tight. She doesn’t know…I’m about to abandon her brother. Leave him to run our massive business alone. He’s not ready for that, and if she knew, she’d despise me.
