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“No, because I’m about to hit on your sister, whether you like it or not.”
I was torn between dislocating his nose again and fist-pumping the air.
He wanted Dylan? Was he fucking insane? I loved my sister, but she was a headache. Unruly, fiercely independent, mouthy as all hell, and impossible to manage. She was the hard to Cal’s softness. The ruthlessly bossy to her soft quirkiness. I was the first to like a challenge, but Dylan wasn’t a challenge. She was a Squid Game obstacle course that ended with you speared to a wall by rusty metal spikes. Plus, I knew she’d never go for a guy like him. He was too smooth around the edges, too well-mannered, too rich. Dylan would never go with the obvious choice. Her favorite ice cream flavor was butter pecan.
“She is engaged and pregnant,” I pointed out.
“And he is absent and stupid,” Kieran deadpanned, in the same businesslike, flat tone. “I remember Tucker Reid. He used to burn insects with a magnifying glass and wedgie your sister. She deserves better.”
“Agreed, but that applies to you too.” I pulled at his ridiculously ironed shirt. “You were a shit kid, who spent every waking moment reminding me that I was the poor son of an alcoholic.”
“Are you ever going to let the past go?”
“Why would I? The past tells us a lot about what we should expect from the future.”
“Ever wonder why I was the way I was?” he snapped, growling at me. “I was cruel because I was weak. My dad rode my ass six ways from Sunday about soccer, about becoming a star, being drafted to a European team in my teens. We weren’t as rich as you probably thought we were, and most of the money was poured into my sport anyway. I was under an immense amount of pressure. And there you were—popular, hot shit, straight-A student, and already interning at a Michelin-starred restaurant outside of town. You had it easy. Or at least, your nightmare wasn’t as elaborate as mine. Nobody put all their chips on you. Nobody told you that if you didn’t make it, your family would fall apart.”
He was jealous of me? Hadn’t seen that one coming.
“Yeah, life was just a piece of fucking cake,” I snarled.
“My dumb teenage self thought so.”
“So what, you want my forgiveness now?”
“No offense, but I really couldn’t give two shits about whether you forgive me or not. I want your understanding.” He pushed off the wall. “Mostly, I want you to be out of my fucking way when I court your sister. Because let me tell you—if I don’t get around you, you bet your ass I’ll get through you. Understand?”
My nostrils flared, and I stepped forward. Our pecs bumped into one another. “You have some nerve coming into my establishment, running your mouth like you deserve anything more than another sucker punch.”
Kieran met my gaze head-on. “I’ll allow you one more punch to get it out of your system. After that, I’m throwing fists too.”
It had been a long time coming. My entire adolescence, I’d wanted to beat the crap out of him.
I sent a knockout punch right into his abs. He folded, staggering backward, bracing himself against my desk. He pushed off the furniture, barreling into my side, tackling me with his shoulder to the floor.
“For fuck’s sake, Casablancas.” He planted a knee on my rib cage to paralyze me, grabbing me by the jaw and squeezing until it almost snapped. Shit, he was strong. And I was rusty, having avoided bar brawls since I’d gotten famous and my lawyers had told me each altercation was a potential seven-figure settlement deal.
“How long have you had a thing for her?” I caught his wrist and bent it, forcing him to follow my movement and flipping us so I was on top.
“Since I came back. I never paid attention to her before.” He pounced up, grabbing my neck and putting me in a headlock. We kicked and thrashed, each trying to get on top of the other.
“Is this a fucking pregnancy kink?” I growled. “You sick fuck.”
He plowed a sucker punch straight to my jaw. “Don’t reduce her to a fucking kink, you son of a—”
“Don’t complete that sentence.”
“Right. Zeta birthed my favorite human in the world. Better not.”
For whatever reason, I believed that he genuinely liked my sister. But that didn’t stop my fist from connecting with his mouth. His lower lip popped, blood running down his chin and neck.
“Goddammit. This is the second Givenchy coat you’ve ruined.”
“Stop being so damn punchable, and I’ll stop punching you.”
We were on the floor, bloodied and flushed, when I heard a knock on the door.
“Busy. Fuck off!” I snarled, trying to scratch Kieran’s eyes out.
