Page 93 of Beauty & Chaos
Fuck him and his useless advice.
Yet, I can still hear the echoes of his laughter.
Perhaps it was the last image he left me with, or maybe this was my plan all along, but I open my car door and walk across the road.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
BROOKLYN
––––––––
“How did you get up here?” I ask after opening my door, wearing a sheer white cotton summer nightie.
The peephole had told me who it was, and while I should be wary after he’s lied to me, I found myself opening the door anyway.
Despite our intimate weekend, I feel extremely vulnerable in hardly any clothing, but I suppose I have things I want to say to him. Especially after receiving his legal threat.
How fucking dare he?
Not going to lie, it got my attention and even scared me a little. But he forgot one thing—and maybe I did too. I’ve seen the way he looks at me when he’s deep inside me. I’ve seen the way his barriers melt away and his mouth parts just before he comes. And those steel-gray eyes swirl with more than just volumes of arousal. There is more.
You belong to me.
He has threatened to destroy my life. I guess if he’s gone to the trouble of changing his identity, then he has a damn good reason. One he will defend. But the threats weren’t necessary.
Essentially, there were a number of paths his legal team would take if I attempted to reveal his real identity on my show. Or to anyone. There’s a lot of small print that I’m yet to read. Bedtime reading, I guess.
“Money.”
Obviously.
“Great. I’m having them fired tomorrow.” I start to shut the door, but he stops it with his foot.
“I gave the guy a thousand dollars. Very few people will refuse that.” He tells me as if that’s explanation enough, and the man who should have done his job was within his rights.
My eyes widen.
“Jesus. Who the hell carries a thousand dollars in their back pocket?”
He doesn’t answer.
Right. Billionaires do.
Which is not the point, and he needs to leave.
Now.
“Lisen Travis...Terrance—”
“Travis. That’s been my name for a long time.” He interrupts, a dark shadow crossing his face.
I fold my arms across my chest. Silly really, given he’s seen every inch of my body. He notices and shakes his head like he’s irritated by my response. “Brook, let me in. I can’t fucking think straight. We need to talk.”
That’s bullshit.
Since I left his mother’s place, he’s clearly been of sound mind and was able to put a lot of things into motion.
Can’t think, my ass.
