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“This conversation is over. You have our lawyer’s contact number. Reach out to him for anything you might need that relates to the shop. Goodbye.”
Dad hangs up.
He fucking hangs up on me.
My pulse slows. I don’t think I can breathe or even live for five minutes. At least.
When I come to, I jump to my feet, sprinting to the closet.
My parents hate me. They hate how eccentric I am. How I’ve been an embarrassment for years, according to them. How I’ve never towed the line.
They think I’m alone. Hell, they want me to be alone.
I am not.
I have two men to hug me. Offer warmth. Support. Affirmations.
My parents won’t win.
I. Am. Not. Alone.
I have to be smart about this. I can’t show up at the hotel wearing the owners’ clothes. There’ll be time for that, it just won’t be today. Sniffing their shirts one last time, I discard them and opt for an outfit that could pass as my work clothes. I choose a long yellow maxi dress with Bengal clock vine print and black high-top sneakers.
Before I storm out of the apartment, I grab one of the lily vases in the foyer. An excuse to stop by Voltage.
Panic bubbles in my chest, and I still try to abide by Killian and Carter’s rules. Sort of.
I wasn’t supposed to leave, but I have to.
Still, no one will know we’re in a relationship. I’ll make sure of that.
As I ride down the elevator, I let that sink in. How these two men have settled into my heart. Earned my respect. Made me love them more than I’ve ever loved my own parents.
They’re my people. With them, I’ll sort out my jumbled brain. I’ll be fine.
I have to.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Carter
“Cut it out.” Killian points at the knife I flip repeatedly in my hand.
“Why?” I pretend to file my nails with the knife’s blade, placing an ankle over my knee. “Jealous of Cyclone?”
Our second and last meeting ended ten minutes ago. We vetted two new dirty politicians as members, explained the rules thoroughly, and now we’re done.
No big drama today.
Other than the one going on in my head. Where I have two certain people naked in every position possible.
On me. Under me. In and sheathing me.
Fuck.
“Should I be?” Killian who sits at my side cocks his head.
Neither of us sits behind the desk during our meetings. Appearances are everything. We’re equals, and everyone should treat us as such.
