Page 63 of Sins (The Sins Trilogy 1)
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Anthony
The Rolls’ A/C does a good job of keeping the Los Angeles heat at bay as we wait in the passenger loading area at LAX. TJ, my bodyguard/chauffeur, is up front behind the wheel. I’m sitting in back, arms folded and not happy.
I glare at Harry as he climbs in. He looks like shit, his eyes bloodshot, and reeks of alcohol. If he throws up in my brand-new Cullinan, I’m going to skin him. Then send him the cleaning bill.
“Running off to Vegas is your idea of showing how responsible you are to everyone?”
“You really want to do this in front of…” He jerks his chin toward TJ.
“Yes.”
Harry shrugs, totally unrepentant. “My fortune cookie said I was going to meet my destiny in the west, and Vegas is west. Almost west coast.”
Palm, meet face. “That was my damn fortune cookie you stole last week, and there’s nothing coastal about Vegas.”
“Same time zone.” He flashes a smile in my direction. He knows he’s good-looking and can get away with murder with that bright, innocent smile. Except it’s never worked on me, so I don’t know why he still bothers.
“And ‘Destiny’ was a hooker.”
“She’s not a hooker.”
“You were paying her to sleep with you. That makes her a hooker.” I let out an impatient breath. I wouldn’t be bothering except for Edgar asking me to keep Harry in line. He was quite unhappy to see Instagram photos of the hookers our youngest brother was spending time with, and since he’s traveling, I’m it. I might’ve been publicly disowned seven years ago, but I’m still Harry’s older brother, and I take care of my brothers, just like they do me.
“You look upset.” He stops, then drops his voice. “Are you thinking about Audrey Duff?”
“Audrey? Why on earth would I be wasting time thinking about her?”
He looks incredulous. “Are you kidding? Don’t you read the news?”
“Occasionally. But unlike you, I don’t get it from OMG GOSSIP dot com.”
“It’s everywhere. She tried to commit suicide. Over you!”
“Oh, that. Wei said something about it.” Mainly to warn me. My assistant knows I don’t enjoy surprises, especially those set up to exploit me for someone else’s benefit. I instructed him to make sure she’s blocked from contacting me, ever.
Harry is staring at me like we don’t even belong to the same species. “That’s all you have to say?”
“What else would you like me to say?”
“How about ‘Wow, that’s terrible.’ Or ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ or ‘I’m deeply saddened by the news.’ She said she couldn’t live without you when you dumped her.”
“Harry. It’s one thing to be younger, another to be gullible.” I give him a cool, pitying look. “Audrey clawed her way out of inner-city Chicago and found a modicum of success in Hollywood. She didn’t do that by being half-assed or weak-willed. If she really were intent on killing herself, she would’ve done it. What she craves is the attention and money she can get by being with me. But my love? Not on the list.”
“She tried to kill herself because you dumped her,” Harry tries again, as though insisting will make it real.
“I never promised her anything. If she thought going out a few times would entitle her to my undying devotion, she was wrong. I won’t be manipulated.” Only Ivy held that special place in my heart. It’s been nine years, but the pain of losing her is still crippling. I imagine putting it in a box in my heart and closing the lid—a coping technique I’ve learned. It lessens the pain until the ache is only a dull throb.
“That’s cold, Tony. Like, Antarctic. I can’t believe you still have an army of women panting after you.”
“Like I said, they want my money.” Bitterness courses through me. I have more money than I can ever spend, but the only woman I’ve ever loved is gone. After my parents tossed me out of the family seven years ago, I worked like a man possessed to build my empire. It was going to fill the void in my heart, give me the power and influence to protect what’s mine…
But now that I have a fortune and the leverage that comes with it, the aching emptiness in my heart is simply…bigger. More painful.
What’s the point when I don’t have her?
I look out the window. Ivy’s dead, and I’ll never get another chance with her. My brain knows this. But my heart… That’s another thing. It whispers that maybe she didn’t really die. Maybe they made a mistake. Maybe, just maybe, she jumped out of that car before it plunged into the bayou. Or maybe she swam away, or…something. Anything.
