Page 62 of More than Paper

“You heard me right.”

Is this guy for real? Stay calm.

“Why would you even put Quinn and prostitute in the same sentence?”

“You need me to spell it out for you?” he bites out.

“Yeah. I do.”

“You know my sister for a week, take advantage of her, send her expensive gifts, then roll up in here in a private car while fucking her in it. If that isn’t prostitution, I don’t know what is.”

You’ve got to be kidding me.

I step closer to him. “What your sister and I do is none of your business. What I buy your sister is none of your business. For your information, I like your sister and am serious about her. And—”

“You’re serious about my sister after a week?”

“Yeah, I am. Why do you find that so hard to believe? Quinn is an amazing person.”

“Yes, she is. She doesn’t need you to promise her the world only to let her down. She doesn’t need to be your plaything you shower in gifts.”

My pulse increases. “My intentions with your sister are nothing of the sort.”

“I know your kind—”

“Your kind? What the fuck does that mean, Steven?”

He snorts. “Turn innocent girls into your toys only to break them. Go back to New York and leave my sister alone.”

“You think I want to break your sister?”

“Don’t you?”

“This is the last thing I’m going to say. I respect, admire, and adore your sister. I wouldn’t do anything to harm her. Whatever I buy her is a gift because I want to, not because I expect anything from her in return. She’s an adult, and anything we do is consensual and between us. And I won’t be going back to New York and leaving your sister alone. Hopefully, one day, you and I can put this conversation behind us, for Quinn’s sake. But if I ever hear you refer to her as a prostitute again, I will beat you until one of us is dead.”

Steven doesn’t flinch. “Is that so?”

“Yeah. Have a good night, Steven.” I turn and walk up the stairs then knock on the door. Quinn opens it. Steven shakes his head, turns, and leaves.

I grab Quinn around the waist and lead her toward the elevator. “Let’s go to your apartment.”

When we get inside, she asks, “Are you going to tell me what was said?”

“No.”

“Jamison!”

I turn her into me. “You know you haven’t done anything wrong, right?”

She looks at me like she isn’t sure if she has or hasn’t.

“Quinn? What do you think you’ve done wrong?”

She blinks back tears.

I pull her onto my lap. “Tell me what’s going on, doll.”

“I didn’t exactly tell you the entire story about my family.”

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