I opened the door and froze.
Dorian was standing on the front step, eyes dark and stormy, expression full of fury. My heart took off at a gallop, racing wildly in my chest.
“Dorian...”
“When were you going to mention to me that you used to fuck guys for money?”
The question hit me like a punch, and my heart sunk heavily into my stomach. I tried to open my mouth to speak, but the words wouldn't come. The explanations wouldn't come. Nothing would come.
Because I knew none of it would be any good.
He didn't seem to care that I was struggling to talk, or that I was struggling to breathe. He barreled forward with his accusations, even as I tried to beg him to keep his voice down. Mikala could usually sleep through anything, but I couldn't bear the thought of her waking up to hear the things he was saying.
“I can't believe you!” he snapped. “After everything…” He paused, gritting his teeth. Then he redirected his train of thought. “Why wouldn't you tell me you knew Kendall already? Was it because you were afraid I'd find out about your little side business with your husband? Sorry, your ex. How many recordings do you have of us fucking? Huh? What was the plan? Make me pay for one every time you two ran out of money?”
My eyes filled with tears, silent and stinging. I swallowed hard but still couldn't find the words. Couldn't find the air. How could I tell him the truth of it? Would he even believe any of it?
This was my worst nightmare. I didn't think Dorian cared for me in the same way I cared for him, but I thought he respected me at least. Now that he knew the truth, he thought I was trash. Just like Elroy told me he would.
Those three years of my life that I’d tried so hard to suppress came flooding back, overwhelming me. Elroy’s suggestions I start going on “dates” for money. The threats if I didn’t. After I got pregnant, him saying we needed the money if I wasn't going to get rid of the baby. That I needed to do it right away. While I was still skinny. While men would still want me.
At the time, I’d thought it was just temporary, that he would save the money to raise our child, like he said he would. But he hadn't. And then after Mikala was born, he started pressuring me again. Because the money was gone, and I needed to feed my baby.
“Do you even work at the casino?” Dorian asked, oblivious to the war going on in my head. “Or do you just get a cut from every guy you seduce? Like some sort of sexual commission?”
I heard the footsteps a few seconds before Tiffany shoved her way in front of me.
“Get out!”
Dorian eyed my roommate with contempt. “Are you her new pimp or do the two of you turn tricks together?”
“Get. The fuck. Out!” Her voice was low and deadly. “I don't care who you are, or how fucking important you think you are, I'll tear your fucking balls off if you don't walk away right now.”
He stayed there for a few seconds before he spun on his heel and stalked back to the stairwell. The second he was gone, Tiffany slammed the door and pulled me into her arms.
The dam inside of me burst, and I started bawling. Tiffany held me close, swaying as I sobbed.
His words cut me more than anything Elroy had ever said or done. Even though I'd known he didn't feel the same way about me as I did about him, I'd always held out hope that someday he would.
Now I knew that day was never coming.
33
Dorian
I barely slept that night. Each time I closed my eyes, I saw the look of shame and sadness on Briana's face, like it was burned into the backs of my eyelids. I couldn't escape her, couldn't escape the things I said to her.
But she'd deserved them, right? She deserved my rage. I'd known for a long time now that women were the harbingers of trouble. Enzo had always said that was why they were so exciting. The danger was every bit as seductive as the little bits of cleavage and the flashes of thigh. A woman without danger was a dull one.
I thought that Briana was different. I'd trusted her, let myself get in too deep, feel too much, and this was the result. I ached in my bones, and I hadn't gotten any sleep all fucking night. And I had no one to blame but myself.
I was pissed. I was miserable. I was ready to go home, back to New York where I understood the score and didn't have to worry about two-faced seductresses blinding me with lust so that they could cripple me with threats. I needed to go back to my life. The life I had before my brother and I had made the bad decision to go to Las Vegas.
By four-thirty in the morning, I'd had enough. I called for the jet and headed straight for the airport. I could be back to New York in a few hours, and then I'd be free to forget all about Briana. If I ever could.
The little voice in my head said I never would.
Though the flight calmed me down somewhat, it didn't take away the pain of losing her. In a perfect world, the anger I felt would be enough to strip me of my feelings and replace them with sawdust. But that wasn't the case.
I should have known better. I did know better. But I let her get past the walls I'd build up, and now I had to pay the consequences.
Now, I had to learn how to live without her.
It would've been easier to physically slice away a portion of my heart.
I buried myself in work from the moment I stepped on the plane. I worked through the weekend, and then went into the office early every day, and worked late every night. While I'd never been as much of a workaholic as Nicolas, it wasn't too out of character for me to throw myself into things after coming back from yet another trip.
But Enzo wasn't so easily convinced that was all there was to it.
“What's the matter with you?” he finally asked after nearly a week of giving me concerned looks.
I was in my Manhattan office, and he'd just come in to ask me to lunch. I'd agreed to go, but apparently not with enough gusto to satisfy the likes of Enzo Gianelli. He always knew when there was something wrong with me, even if I hid it perfectly to everyone else. So I knew it was pointless talking about it. What could he do? Go back in time and stop Briana from fucking Kendall and who knew how many others? Or perhaps stop me from ever approaching her in the first place?
“Nothing,” I retorted without looking up. I was looking down at some contracts I had to review before the end of the day. The only problem was that I'd spent the past half hour re-reading the first line because none of it was sticking in my brain.
“You've been off since you got back from that last trip to Vegas,” he continued. “Everyone's noticed. I'm the only one with big enough balls to ask about it.”
I licked my finger and flicked the page of the contract for effect. “Being a nuisance has nothing to do with ball size, I assure you. But if it did, yours would indeed be the biggest balls of all.” I flicked my gaze up to meet his. “Are we going for lunch or do you plan to grill me about pointless shit all afternoon?”
He gestured toward the door with a shrug. “Lead the way, brother.”
I set down the contracts and rubbed the bridge of my nose before getting up and heading toward the elevator.
If what he said was true, it was troubling to know that other people had noticed my attitude over the past couple of days. I prided myself on being able to, in most cases, separate my work life from my business life. It was why I hired escorts – and I'd already appreciated the hypocrisy of my actions – and it was why I didn't have much of a personal life in the first place. But Briana had thrown a wrench into the mix, and now I was left to pick up the pieces that the likes of Enzo seemed determined to trip over and cry foul.
He strolled up beside me just as the elevator doors opened. “So did you see Briana while you were in Vegas?”
I stepped in and pressed the lobby button. “No.”
“I don't believe you.” He took a spot beside me, hands folded politely in front of him.
I hated when Enzo did this. Normally, he was cheap and vulgar when it came to interacting with other people, especially me. But when there was somethin
g he truly wanted to know, he adopted the tried and true interrogation method of Bartolo Gianelli. Our father was the only person I'd heeded to growing up, and likewise, he was the only person who could consistently fish information out of me when I was feeling less than forthcoming.
“Why would you not see Briana?” Enzo asked in a measured tone. “You two seemed to have a rich connection. I thought you were quite smitten with her.”
I clenched my jaw hard. “And you seem to not be able to mind your own damn business.”
“I'm just asking out of interest, as somebody who also grew quite fond of the girl in the time we spent together.” He buffed his nails on his sleeve and inspected them under the light. “I would hate to think something happened to drive a wedge between you.”
“I don't want to talk about it, Enzo!” I snapped. He had successfully gotten under my skin yet again. Just like he always did. “Suffice it to say that I should have learned my lesson with Maggie, okay?”
Enzo's lips curved into his trademark, douchebag smirk. “Okay, Dorian. No need to get your panties in a bunch.” He placed a hand on my shoulder, which I immediately shook off. Unbothered, he added, “Know that I'm here for you if you want to talk about it.”
The elevator doors whizzed open, and I stepped out, already regretting my decision to go to lunch with him.
“So what did you do when you were in Vegas?” Enzo asked.
“I checked out a hotel whose owner wanted to open one of our restaurants.”
“And? Are we going to have a grand opening anytime soon?”
On the flight home, I sent an email to the owner of the Grapevine saying that I'd run the numbers, and unfortunately, it wasn't in the company's interest to enter into a partnership with his hotel at this time. In reality, I'd barely even glanced at the sheets he sent me. It was a wonder I remembered to respond at all.
“It wasn't a good fit,” I said.
I felt Enzo's side eye but blatantly ignored it.
“What a shame that you went all the way to Las Vegas to look at a hotel only to come back empty-handed.” He nudged me in the side with his elbow. “I know you must hate that.”
He was teasing me, referencing the fact that I was notorious for disliking what I called “timesuck ventures.” Usually, if I went to look into a potential project, the contract had already been all but written. I didn't like to waste my time.
“It is what it is, Enzo.”
“So it is.”
He whistled down the street the rest of the way to the restaurant. More than once, I nearly succumbed to the desire to knock his teeth out. Only the fact that my mom would be pissed at me kept me in check.
34
Briana
I’d always been good at pretending. Maybe I could have been an actress if I’d lived another life. Not a better life, since Mikala wouldn't have been part of it, but a different one. I wouldn’t give up my daughter for the world, and it didn’t matter to me that the price for getting her had been Elroy. She was my reason to keep going. My little girl needed me to be strong...or at least be able to fake it.
I was doing my best to pretend that I didn't miss Dorian, that his words hadn't cut me like shards of glass. But I'd inevitably dream about him, or something in my day would remind me of him. Once, I thought I saw him in the casino and ran after him only to discover it was just a guy with a similar haircut. After a week, I knew he wasn't coming back. I knew that things were completely over between us, and my belief that he'd never had feelings for me just solidified even further.
But it still sucked.
The one saving grace I did have was that I had a new job to keep me occupied. Isa had thrown me into the deep end from moment one, which was a good thing, all things considered. I needed the immersion.
But when the day was over, I'd have the whole drive home to think about things and would fill with regret until I'd see another human soul. Thank god for Tiffany and my daughter. They were my salvation.
“Mommy! Mommy!”
Mikala ran to me the same as she had every other day this week, and just like every other time, I felt the first genuine smile I'd managed all day curve my lips.
“Guess what Tiffany and I did today!”
I leaned down and ruffled Mikala's silky hair, tapping the door closed behind me with my foot. “What did you do?”
Tiffany entered the hallway a second later, looking tired. A wave of guilt washed over me. She must have caught it in my expression because she was quick to make an excuse.
“I woke up a little under the weather this morning,” she said. “Had a bit of a reverse breakfast, if you will. I think I must've caught Mikala's bug.”
I winced and looked down at my beaming little girl. It was only a few days ago that she'd been ashen and sulky. I'd barely managed to get her to keep down enough juice to keep her from needing to go to the hospital for an IV. I'd been expecting myself to start puking any second now, since I'd also been feeling a little under the weather the past few days. I was sure the stress wasn't helping anything either.
Stress had always made things worse. Back when I finally got the courage to leave Elroy, I'd been sick for nearly a week.
I still remembered the fight that had delivered the final blow to our relationship. In my heart, we’d been over for a long time. But it wasn’t until he nearly hit Mikala one night that I had the courage to leave him. And I couldn’t have survived the rollercoaster of emotion that had followed if it hadn't been for Tiffany’s support.
“Sorry that you're not feeling well, Tiff,” I said. “Let me make you some soup or something. We could all use some TLC.”
“Mommy, I still haven't told you what we did!”
Tiffany waved away my concerns. “It's fine. Her's passed quickly, and I'm sure mine will too.”
“I insist.”
We walked into the kitchen together, Mikala practically hanging off me as she told me all about the exciting day she'd had with Auntie Tiffany. They'd done some finger painting, and she was ecstatic as she showed me the turkey she'd painted that Tiffany had stuck up on the fridge for me.
“How's the job going?” Tiffany asked as I poured her a cup of orange juice from the fridge.
“As well as can be expected.” I poured a little cup for Mikala too and handed it to her. “Why don't you go watch TV for a bit while Tiffany and I talk. Okay, honey?”
Mikala raced off without another word, satisfied with her recitation of the day's events.
Tiffany swallowed some of the juice with a grimace. “I'm wondering whether adding some booze to this would make me more or less likely to throw up on one of the gropey losers at the club tonight.”
I snorted. “Probably more. Why don't you take tonight off?”
She nodded and wiped a hand over her forehead. “I don’t have a fever yet, so I'll try to work and see how it goes. My stomach just will not settle. How are you doing?”
“I'm not feeling so hot either, but I think it's just stress. I've caught myself nearly puking a couple of times. Yesterday, we had a Saudi prince come stay at the casino, and I had to excuse myself to the bathroom for ten whole minutes before I could show him to the penthouse. Isa wasn't happy with me.”
“Yikes.” Tiffany raised her brows and took another drink of the juice. “Maybe you should be the one taking a day or two off. Sounds like you need it.”
The thought had crossed my mind too, but it simply wasn't possible. “Can't. Earl would crucify me if I took time off during my training. Apparently, he stuck his neck out to give me this position, though I'm not sure how much I believe that. Besides, with Sinclair not paying my rent anymore, it's more important than ever for me to be on top of my game.” I sighed. “But damn if it wouldn't be nice to take a twenty-four-hour long bubble bath.”
“Is it still...” she hesitated for a moment. “Him?”
I laughed bitterly. “You'd have to specify which him. Though I suppose it's both.”
“I want to kill him. Both of the hims.
” She glowered into the bottom of her glass as she drained it. “You're better than that. You know that, right?”
“I know.”
She looked over at the clock on the oven and made a sour face. “Looks like it's time to play upchuck roulette. But call me if you need me, okay?”
I nodded and patted Tiffany on the back as she staggered down to her room. Things would get better.
And if I told myself that enough times, I'd eventually believe it.
35
Dorian
I was tired of having to avoid Enzo's questions and trying to pretend that everything was okay. So I decided Tuesday was a work from home day. I called into the office, then settled down in my study to go through my emails. Normally, I preferred working in the office because it meant I was closer to the support of my assistant and the professionalism that came with being in an office, but every once in a while, I had one of those days. Tomorrow, I'd head back to work with my batteries filled and my head cleared. Hopefully.
I was in the midst of emailing an international, high-profile investor when my buzzer rang. I ignored it at first, unwilling to interrupt my work day with shit I would've missed anyway if I'd been at the office. But then the buzzer rang again, and this time I couldn't ignore it. The screen next to my door showed that my brother was downstairs. I pressed the intercom button and tried not to sound as annoyed as I felt.
“What do you want?”
He looked up at the camera and smiled, then raised his hands to show he was carrying a paper bag and a tray of coffee.
“You've had me running all around town looking for you,” he said. “The least you could do is let me in so I can eat my breakfast.”
I sighed and rolled my eyes but pressed the button nonetheless. He was annoying the shit out of me, but I couldn't ignore him forever.