The Devil Wears Black(64)

I didn’t. I felt nothing toward my ex-fiancée, whom I’d spent the majority of my college years with.

I had to do something to take the Amber edge off. I didn’t want to talk about her or Julian. It wasn’t even the heartbreak that had made me swear off love. It was the embarrassing aftermath. The gossip mill. The humiliation.

Poor Chase got dumped.

Never was quite as hardworking and hungry as Julian.

They say Amber had to make it official with his brother because he impregnated her while she was still engaged to Chase.

Maybe Chase didn’t deliver you-know-where.

Chase might’ve cheated first. She just did what was best for her.

I forgave Julian when he asked for forgiveness. He was the older brother I looked up to, and I was determined to let it slide and work things out between us. It was Amber I had the issue with. The fickleness of love, of what I thought love was, rubbed me the wrong way. I was infatuated with Amber in the way thirteen-year-old boys were crushing over the biggest pop star in the world. She had the looks and the lust for life, and I had the funds and ability to yank her out of her small town, thrusting her into the glamorous life she’d always dreamed of. After a brush with the four-letter word with Amber, I’d decided I wasn’t a huge fan of letting someone into my life, not when the risk of watching them go was possible. All Amber had needed was the faintest hint that the horse she’d bet on wasn’t going to win, that Julian was going to make it to the CEO finish line before me, and she’d dumped my ass to the curb.

Dad’s illness was a bitter reminder that love was not on the menu for me.

Love = pain.

Pain = suffering.

Suffering = not today, Satan. Not today.

I pressed my lips to Madison’s ear. She was staring at the camera, still smiling, but from my vantage point five hundred feet above her (she really was that small), I could see the horror of being stuck here for eternity in her eyes.

“I want to do very dirty things to you.”

She quivered, and I smiled, my teeth tracing the shell of her ear.

“In the shower,” I continued. “You could sit on my shower bench while I eat you out.”

“God”—she closed her eyes on a soft moan—“that’s so . . . hygienic.”

We both burst out into spontaneous laughter, making Becky scowl at us. “Too much teeth. Please, let’s keep it regal and classy.”

I peered into Madison’s face, curious to see what her next step would be.

“So now when you’re about to become the CEO, is Amber trying to win you back?” Mad asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you care?”

“Not particularly.”

“Does Julian know that Amber might be after you?”

Another shrug. “If he does, he doesn’t mind.”

“Why?”

“Because Amber was never his endgame. She was collateral in a more elaborate chess game I didn’t know I was playing. What he truly wanted was affirmation that he was better than me. More of a son to Ronan than I am. He wants to become CEO. He wants to be the blackest Black in the clan.”

“So why did Amber do it? Go with Julian? You’re so much more . . .” Mad trailed off.

“Fuckable?” I helped her.

“I was going to say tolerable. But even that sounds generous sometimes. He just seems like a weasel, you know.”

I said nothing. Becky yelled that it was a wrap, and I let go of Madison, taking a step back like she was made out of fire. But Mad was still stuck in the moment, staring at me with a vulnerable look I couldn’t stand.

“It just seems unfair that you don’t want to fall in love, get engaged, have kids . . . because your brother-cousin stole your fiancée. Not all women care about money and status.”

“But you can never be sure.” I smiled grimly. She wanted to continue this line of conversation, but I followed Becky to the reception area, choosing to put an end to it. There was nothing I wanted more than to escape the scrutiny of those green-rimmed hazel eyes. Mad trailed behind me, refusing to drop the subject.

“That’s all it took? One bad experience with love?”

“Yup.”

“That is so cowardly. It’s like hating all carbs because you had a slice of pizza you didn’t like.”

“I don’t like pizza either,” I said breezily. Technically, it was true. I didn’t like what pizza did to my hard-earned abs and wasn’t planning on eating it anytime soon.

“The blasphemy!” Madison cried behind me, trying—and failing—to catch up with my footsteps. “So that’s it? You sentenced yourself to a life of loneliness because of that?”

Had she listened to my story? Did she know many people who’d lost their brides to their siblings?

“Not loneliness,” I amended. “I have hookups all the time and a great family that I love, aside from my brousin and his wife.”

“But if you don’t fall in love, the bad guys win,” Madison insisted.

“Really?” I swiveled, pinning her with a sarcastic look. “Because they sure as fuck don’t look like they’re winning. They seem positively miserable, much to my delight.”

There was a pause. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have said Mad was on the verge of tears. But that couldn’t be true. Why would she give enough fucks?