AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“So, Finch is something special then? For you to . . .” Dad can hardly imply or even utter the words about me sleeping with Victor. His heart is torn that I’ve gone to another man for comfort. I speak for him.
“Yes, Victor means more to me than I can bear.” At the soft whistling of the teakettle, I pick it up from the burner before it can give an alarming screech.
“Okay, Lux.” Dad shakes his head and gets up. “I’ll exit my lair this week. Ask around about him?”
“Why?”
“Because I’m your father.”
I snort. “You’ll report any critical info, right?”
“Damn right. When you’re ready to talk about yourself, let me know, baby. I love you.”
“I love you, too.” I massage my taut throat. Hearing the few little words that Victor withheld from me makes the faint smile fall from my face. I’ll let my father do some leg work and ask around Greco about Dr. Finch’s character. Maybe if someone else dishes out the hard truth, I can stop handing him my heart.
He’s selfish. Egotistical, sure. But I consider the deal breakers I can’t pardon, cheating and lying.
Or if Dr. Victor Finch’s not the man I know him to be.
31
VICTOR
Day Twenty-six
While twisting my iPhone about my fingertips, I consider calling Luxury. But I’ve made concessions for her already.
During our first weekend, I told her I was in town long enough to review research for one of Whitson’s associates. I set in stone that there could not be an us.
Luxury deserves the type of man who’s attuned to her every need. Not to say I don’t have that covered while in bed. She deserves the entire package with a red ribbon on top.
Instead of calling her, I meet Dr. Whitson at his suggestion at Berto’s Bar and Grill. It’s a downtrodden cracked cement building surrounded by artistic gems in the center of Harlem.
As I push open the door a duke wouldn’t be caught entering, fresh flavors entice my nose.
The dining area is dimly lit. With not an empty seat in sight, I weave around the tables toward the bar. The music is a Spanish lover’s promise. Some unlucky wanker placed a melody to the jaded look of Luxury’s eyes. A look that will haunt me.
“Cranberry juice and water, half and half,” Whitson’s telling the bartender as I pull out a tall stool.
“Scotch, no rocks,” I utter. Whitson removes the jacket he’d draped over the extra seat.
While I claim the stool, I’m under Whitson’s scrutiny. He pulls out a silver lighter with his initials. I hadn’t pegged him for a smoker. Whitson clicks it a few times then puts it back.
“Used to smoke one pack a day and chased it all back down with copious amounts of gin. Now, it’s cranberry juice and water,” Whitson mutters, grabbing a chip and scooping it into salsa. “Never thought I’d break the habit. Lord knows Gina tried.”
“What was the deciding factor?”
“The day we found out she was pregnant with Lux, I stopped like that.” He snaps a finger. “Cold turkey. No regrets.”
“Congrats, couldn’t have been easy.” I gauge what’s the ultimate purpose of our conversation. In a manner of seconds, I’ve taken in each patron in this establishment—their mannerisms. None present a threat, except for the older bloke glaring me over.
The discussion should’ve begun with him threatening my life. Something like, “Stop boinking my daughter” sounds appropriate.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Dr. Finch. Abstaining from drinking and cigarettes, easiest decision I ever made.” Whitson finally looks at me. “Love makes you do strange things. Creates a man outta you. Makes you strong, daring. It makes you put another person’s wellbeing over your own, Victor. Can I call you Victor?”
Fuck. “Sure.” I grab my drink and toss it back, gritting my teeth to the burn. I nod for another round. Good call on no ice—this shite’s weak.
“Feel free to call me, Jonah,” Whitson says.
