Casanova(27)

They had more belief in me than most, even if my father hated that he had it.

The point remained that Lani Montana now knew who I was. She knew just how much of a fucking asshole I really was.

That’s all there was to it.





“Goddamn it, Brett!” Camille came slamming into the kitchen like a bull in a china shop, shoving the door open so hard it bounced off the wall.

“You dented the wall,” I said simply, not looking up from my laptop.

“I don’t care!” she yelled. “How dare you treat her like that?”

I input more data into the spreadsheet.

Camille slammed my laptop screen down. I wasn’t quick enough to get my hand out of the way, so it caught my finger.

“Fuck!” I snapped, yanking my hand back. “What the fuck is wrong with you, you psycho?”

“Me? I’m the psycho?” She widened her eyes, staring at me. “You’re the one who just treated Lani like she’s not even worth being one of the women you discard faster than I discard used tampons during shark week!”

“Thanks for that visual.”

“Do you think this is a joke? It isn’t. I know you have major issues with just about everything right now, but she is not the person you should be taking your shit out on.”

I met her eyes. “She wanted to know who I was. I showed her.”

“No, you couldn’t resist. Don’t blame this on her. All she’s trying to do is fucking help you when she wants to be nowhere near you, yet she’s doing it anyway.”

“She’s doing it for the money. Not because she cares.” Even I couldn’t hide the bitter tone of my voice.

It was true. It was all for the money. She didn’t give a fuck about me, and that was just fine by me.

“You are so dense,” Camille laughed out. “You’ve been thinking with your dick for so long that you can’t see that a part of her does care about you.”

“Because of an old friendship,” I said flatly. “She cares about the Brett she used to know. She couldn’t give a rat’s ass about who I am today or she’d be here right now, wouldn’t she?”

“After the way you treated her? Are you fucking kidding me?” She shook her head and slammed her hands on the table in front of me. “You made it abundantly clear how you view the women who sleep with you, then five minutes later, you treated her the exact same way. And you’re pissed off she wasn’t here when you finished jacking off in the shower?”

My jaw clenched. “Fuck off, Camille.”

“Yeah. She told me what you said about her. When I chased after her and I followed her home and comforted her after you ripped her in two and showed her that you’re not even half the person you were eight years ago.”

“Fuck off, Cam,” I repeated, shoving the stool back from the table.

She stormed toward the door. Then she stopped walking, paused, and turned around to face me. “The Brett she knows once protected her from people like you.”

My nostrils flared as her words punched me in the gut.

Camille raised her gaze from the floor to meet mine. “Congratulations. You officially became the person you once took hits from for protecting the little dorky girl. At least now she knows you never cared.”

“Don’t.” I kicked the stool to the side and pointed a finger at her. “Don’t you fucking dare tell me I never cared about her. I cared about her too damn much.”

“Oh, I know.” She looked at me coldly. “You had feelings for her but you never told her, and you paid the price. Don’t you fucking blame her for leaving when you never gave her a reason not to. You dropped the ball on that, not her. It’s been eight years. Get over it or stay the hell away from her.”

“Don’t—”

“She just lost her grandmother and her sister is having a baby in three months. She doesn’t need your egocentric existence in her life if all you’re going to do is demean her and treat her like shit on the bottom of your shoe. Get a goddamn grip, Brett.” She turned away and this time, did walk. “Oh,” she threw over her shoulder. “Next time one of your one night stands shows up, I’m giving them your fucking number. Asshole.”

My heart thumped too loudly against my chest to even respond to her. Not that she’d have heard me. The front door slammed barely seconds later and echoed through the entire downstairs.

I slumped back onto my stool and, propping my elbows on the kitchen table, buried my face in my hands. My damp hair made it easy for me to slick my fingers through it and clasp them behind my neck as I dipped my face right down.

I could always count on my twin sister to give me a damn good ass kicking.

Except this time she didn’t get it. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so harsh on Lani, but she asked. She wanted to know who I was. She asked for that and I gave it to her.

I don’t even regret kissing her. I can’t regret kissing her. Fuck, it was so good. She damn well melted into me and kissed me as thoroughly as I kissed her. She gave as good as she got. I loved every second of having her fingers wrapped in my t-shirt and her heart thumping so hard against her chest that I could feel it against mine too.

I’d fucking do it again. God, given half a chance, I’d pull her into me and kiss her again.