Whipped (Hitched #2)(15)

"I don't do emotional crap," says Duke. "And next day, things get soft real fast."

I rub my chin thoughtfully. "Huh. That's what she said."

The guys laugh. Duke frowns. Sorry, Dukey. But I don't stand for taunting couples. Not since I decided to be part of one. Even if it’s only been a few hours.

"You have a problem with me?" asks Duke. He walks up to me. I'm still sitting. Fuck, the guy is huge.

I give him my most charming smile. "No problem."

Duke snickers. "Then don't be a f*cking hypocrite. I saw you tapping that redhead tonight. What a f*cking slut. You get her number? I could use a good ass—"

I jump up and my fist slams into his jaw. He stumbles back. "Don't f*cking talk about her," I growl.

He rubs blood off his lip. He smiles. "You little cocksucker." He slams into me. It's like being slammed by a wall. My back smashes against a mirror. It shatters.

There's a code of conduct when two men fight. I don't give a f*ck. I knee him in the balls.

Duke collapses on the floor. I expect him to clasp his precious jewels in pain. Instead, he grabs my leg and yanks me down. I fall on broken glass. It crunches. He climbs on top of me. He raises a fist.

"What’s happening here?" The voice is deep and loud. It's Darrel. He stands at the doorway to the dressing room. He wears a white suit.

Duke crawls off me. "Lach lost his f*cking mind."

I want to say some witty comeback, but the adrenaline is wearing off, and my back is on fire.

Darrel walks through the room and towers over me. "Since when do we attack our fellow brothers?"

I speak through a clenched jaw. "He's not my f*cking brother."

Darrel shakes his head. "What's happening to you, Lach?" He crouches down and wipes something off my forehead. I smack his hand away. He frowns. "You think you're better than us?"

I don't answer.

He yells. "You think you don't need us anymore?"

I don't acknowledge him. I stand up and grab my jacket. Glass still digs into my skin. I'll deal with it later. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Take tomorrow off."

I turn back to him. "What?"

"You're off tomorrow. Use the day to get your shit together. Until you do, Duke has your solos."

"Fine with me." I'm done soon anyway.

Darrel smiles. "Fine. As long as you're not soloing, your pay is cut in half."

I curl my fist. It's covered in blood. "You can't f*cking do that. We have a contract."

"And you're not living up to your end."

Fuck this. I don't need the extra money that bad. My investor will come through. As I leave, Darrel pats Duke on the shoulder and congratulates the guys on a great show. They smile and nod. They act like children around him. I remember when I did the same.

***

I drop by a clinic on my way home. They remove the glass from my back. The pieces are small. I don't even need stitches. The whole time, I think of Vi. I need to talk to her, tell her what I want. Ricky kicked things off with a gift, so I head to a store and pick out something appropriate.

When I enter the apartment, Vi jumps off the couch. She's wearing a blue sweater. Her face is red. An open bottle of white wine is on her desk.

I want to throw her back on the couch and tear her clothes off. But I resist. I close the door behind me. "I need to tell you something."

"Me first." She waves her hands as she talks. Her words slur. "I know you don't do relationships. I knew it when we had sex. So, I'm not expecting anything. But I'm not interested in a f*ckbuddy. I know that's what you want, and that's okay. No judgment. One of my best friends is the same. But right now, I need someone steady. Someone I can rely on."

I grin. "That's nice. Now, will you go out with me?"

Her mouth drops open. "…What?"

I pull the gift out of my bag and hand it to her. "Will you go out with me?"





CHAPTER 9





VI


I'm spent. I spoke literally all the words and expected him to be relieved, to agree, to at most argue for more stringless sex. Not to ask me out on a real date. And give me a gift?

I open my mouth to say no, to explain what a bad idea this is.

"Yes," I say, then cover my betraying bastard of a mouth with my hand. "Wait, no—"

Lachlan's smile is reminiscent of the cat that ate the canary. "No, too late."

I drop my hand and cross my arms over my chest. "I can change my mind if I want…"

He raises an eyebrow. "And show yourself to be inconsistent with your word?"

"I'm not inconsistent. But what's the point of going out together?" It's getting hot in this condo, and I start pacing the small living room, wrapped gift still in hand. Bigger than a breadbox. Sort of. Longer than a breadbox?

Lachlan seems too laid back and relaxed, and it pisses me off just a little. "I believe the point is to see if two people are compatible in a long-term relationship," he explains, as if talking to a child.

That stops me in my pacing. I look up at him. "And you're interested in that? A long-term relationship?"