Page 11 of Inconvenient Marriage
But I’m over it. Really. I’m not obsessing over who she was, what she was doing there, why I can’t fucking get her out of my head…
I’m over it, and I’ve spent half the night trying to convince myself of that again only to admit that I’m full of shit. I know better. When Hilary came by, trailing her hand over her hips, a questioning look in her big brown eyes, I flicked her off. I wasn’t in the mood for any of my usual lovers.
She paused, making eyes at Dallas next. She’s a bold one. When Jack was the King, he had at least four or five girls that he fucked regularly, but he had them all come to him. Most of the council take their sex out of the club. It’s another reason why I purposely go to the Used. To me, they’re worth it, and Iespecially like the upper echelon of Order society looking down on me for slumming.
That’s how they see it. They made the Used, but when the women only exist to service the Owed, if they’re not handpicked by a powerful member of the secret society to be their mistress, they’re basically glorified whores.
In so many ways, Jack fucked Dallas up. If Hilary tried to invite Dallas to join her, he would only insult her. He wouldn’t do it on purpose. He doesn’t give a shit that she wears the brand on her neck that means she’s Order property. Nope. Her only crime is that she isn’t Lucy Wright, but tell Dallas that. Like me, he pretends that he’s over her.
Like me, he’s a shit liar.
Besides, he may be the all-powerful King, but sometimes he just wants to be Dal, no crown required. He’ll scare all the girls off even if his rep—as an Order enforcer, as Jack Collins’ son, as the new fucking King—didn’t already. Me? I’m just not into casual sex these days, though I’m sure that’ll change sooner or later. Tonight, though? I’m only in the mood for one particular woman, and if I’ve been in a dry spell since the night I met her, I remind myself that at least the Harley-Davidson Road Glide bike I’ve been working on for months is halfway built.
It’s stalled lately. I need a bespoke part that I ordered from a specialist I know. I should have it by the end of next week, couriered right to my front door, but if my brain is torn between imagining what my ride will look like with the new part and reliving the moment the Last Prayer temptress wrapped her arms around my neck and came all over my lap, at least I know Dallas well enough that I can carry on a mindless conversation while ignoring the way my balls ache.
I could easily take Hilary into the back, bang her on one of the chaise’s set up for the Used and their lovers, and try to fuck the brunette out of my head. Or I could drink enough to getwhiskey dick, sleeping it off in one of the rooms meant for the Owed.
I nudge Dallas. “Another round?”
He looks down at the bottom of his glass. He was on his second whiskey neat, but I know he can handle more than that when he’s in the spirit. It isn’t often that he wants to lose himself in a bottle, and if I know that yesterday was Lucy’s birthday, I keep my damn mouth shut.
That’s what Dallas needs from his bro, and I’m happy to give it to him.
He picks up his glass, swirling the last mouthful before downing it. “Yeah. I think I could use another.”
I lift my hand, ready to signal Brucie, the manager.
Dallas shakes his head. “Nah. I’ll go to the bar and get a refill. I’m fucking sick of people thinking they can serve me.”
That comes with being the King. Comes with being a Reynolds in Harmony Heights, too, not that I’m going to point that out.
Why, when Dallas and I have both spent nearly thirty years trying to outrun our fates?
We’ve been friends since diapers, the five of us—well,fournow—and we’ve all grown up in the Order. We didn’t have the same childhoods, though. Adrian‘s parents neglected him, leaving the housekeeper in charge. My folks did the best for my brother and me before eventually giving up. Desmond‘s dad planned for him to be a mini me. Connor was the only one of us who wasn’t fucked up, but hell if he doesn’t have his hands full with Haven now.
Dallas got the worst of it. Me and Adrian were basically born with a silver spoon in our mouths. If it wasn’t for Dallas’s mom being a sweetheart who protected her boy, Jack would’ve shoved one up Dal’s ass. He hated his son. Hated that he would oneday succeed him. He did everything he could to break him. Just because he’s dead now, that doesn’t mean that Dallas is fixed.
I know because the Order broke me, too.
So I scoff at the advantages it gave me, Adrian‘s worked behind the scenes for a decade to control it, Connor ignores it, and Dallas would run from it if he thought he could get away with it.
Then there’s Des. He’s dead now. Sometimes I’m jealous of him. He’s the only one who made it out. Sure, Adrian shot him, but that’s why you don’t break the bro code.
Dallas wants to go get the drinks? You got it, buddy.
“I’ll take another beer.”
Dallas leans over, ruffling the top of my hair as he slides out of the booth. “I saw a couple of the Used eye-fucking you. If you wanna take a few minutes in the back, I can make sure the bartender doesn’t fill the order right away.”
I shake my head. “Not feeling it tonight.”
The look Dallas gives me says that that was the last thing he expected me to tell him. He shrugs, though, and adds, “If you change your mind, I won’t be pissed if you ditch me.”
I grin up at him. “Shut the fuck up and go get the drinks. I’m here with you tonight.”
“Yeah, well, don’t expect me to put out.”
Dick, I think with affection. If he can make jokes like that with me, I’ve done something right tonight. If only for an hour or two, I’ve pulled him out of that dark place that no Collins wants to go.
