Page 58 of Misdeeds of a Billionaire
Her moans and whimpers were an addiction no man could forget nor resist.
It had been a week and everything had spiraled out of control. I had men looking into her and her sister. Yet somehow, barely anything had come out of it. Either my men were getting sloppy or the Swan sisters were indeed working with diamond smugglers. It was the only thing that could keep their trail so fucking clean.
I might have to resort to Nico Morrelli’s services. Although I preferred not to.
“What's wrong with you today?” my brother Royce asked, throwing himself into the dining room chair and propping his legs up on the table.
“Nothing.” I eyed his expensive and dirty shoes on the shining wooden surface of the long table. “Do you mind?”
He cocked his eyebrow, then followed my gaze to his feet on my table. “Actually, I do. My legs hurt like a bitch.”
Our live-in kitchen staff walked in carrying trays of food and coffee. I waited until they put it all out and departed before resuming our conversation.
“Have you been hiking in the woods?” I asked dryly. “Or maybe stalking someone in California? I know those Hollywood pavements are hard on your ankles and knees.”
He promptly flipped me off.
“Why do you look like someone has stuck something up your ass?” Kingston, my youngest brother, asked coldly, showing up out of nowhere. He didn’t frequently visit the States, and much like Alexei Nikolaev, Kingston liked to keep to himself. He loved us in his own way. Well, all of us but our father.
It was only after I assured him Senator Ashford wouldn’t be anywhere near my estate that he agreed to stay under my roof whenever he was in town. He’d cut all ties with our father, not that I could blame him.
“He ran into his fling,” Winston took the liberty of answering on my behalf. God, why were all my brothers under my roof today? “Dr. Swan.”
“Didn’t you have a thing with the Swan girl too?” Royce asked, reading his paper and sipping his coffee.
I growled. “Winston, I swear to God—”
“Her sister.” Winston’s tone conveyed annoyance. “Not the same woman,” he hissed at Royce, then flipped him off. “Freak.”
God, what a way to start the day off. Suddenly, I regretted my open-door policy. The penthouse I kept downtown was off-limits but this—the Ashford manor—was a family home. At least, I tried to make it so.
“She looked good,” Winston stated pensively. “Better than I remembered.”
“I sure as hell hope you’re talking about Billie and not Odette.” Otherwise, he’d be a dead man.
“I told you, Royce is the freak, not me,” Winston answered seriously.
“I’m not the freak here,” Royce deadpanned. “Can you two little bitches stop whining? You’re older yet you whine the worst.”
“Watch yourself.” I glared at him.
“We can have a sparring session.” Royce grinned. It was his favorite pastime and his way of releasing tension. I wasn’t in the mood for it today. I had no idea what crawled up his ass, but considering his impulsive and crazy nature, it could be any number of things.
“I’m busy adulting,” I drawled. “Besides, I know I can still make you cry. Now, stop talking so I can think.”
“About what?” Kingston asked, disinterest clear in his tone. He couldn’t give two fucks about our conversation. He probably had someone targeted as a hit for the Omertà organization, and we were his alibi. I didn’t give a shit, as long as he was around.
“He wants Dr. Swan back,” Winston answered unhelpfully. I shot him a glare. He’d better watch it.
“I’m going to kick you all out, onto your heads.”
“Listen here, you little bitch,” Royce said, ignoring my threat. “If you want a woman, then you go and get her.” He laid out his paper. “Get your fill of her and then move on. I don’t need to put up with your moody ass at breakfast.”
“And that’s working so well for you, huh?”
“At least I’m getting my fill of her while you’re perishing in the desert.”
“Will you shut the fuck up?” I muttered dryly before taking a sip of my coffee.
