“Sullivan…”
I lean against the marble counter, curling my free hand around its cool edge, my knuckles turning white as I grip it hard enough to rip it off the wall.
“You’re not getting another cent from me,” Isay slowly, even though I know she won’t listen. We’ll continue this fucking charade in another couple of months. Next time her latest deadbeat boyfriend has got bored of her and she needs someone to fund her habit.
“You’re a goddamn billionaire, and you can’t spare a few bucks for me? I’m Peaches’ mom!”
“Listen to me,” I spit. “Her name is Molly. And you’re a fucking disgrace. You left your daughter in a box, for God’s sake.”
“I was thinking I could come to the city, I could?—”
My blood runs cold.
“No.”
“But—”
“When you get yourself clean, Natasha. That’s when I’ll consider discussing visitation rights with you.” I screw my eyes shut, a dull throbbing at the base of my skull indicating an impending headache.
“She’s mine, not yours!” she snaps, losing her soft tone, and letting the real toxic Natasha shine through.
“The DNA test says she’s very much mine,” I state coldly. “And if you want to fight me on that, then be my guest. I’ll look forward to wiping the floor with whatever backstreet lawyer you manage to manipulate into believing you’re actually capable of being a decent human being, let alone the mother that Molly deserves. The courts will never side with an addict like you.”
“You bastard,” she slurs.
“Don’t call me again!” I spit as I hang up.
I put my phone on the counter and turn and stare at myself in the giant mirror above the twin basins. Light blue eyes hardened by two years of her shit stare back at me. The multi-billion-dollar decisions I make every day in my position as CEO of our family business I can handle. I’ve even found away to exist alongside the grief that gnaws at me every day since we lost my brother and Mom.
I work.
I make obscene amounts of money.
And one or two nights a week, I fuck women—or multiple women—in a hotel suite I have permanently booked. One my sister charmingly refers to as my disgusting sex pad.
But when it comes to Molly,my daughter,I’m a man on the edge of losing it the second anyone does or says anything that could threaten her happiness and wellbeing.
Most of the time, that person is the woman who dares to call herself her mother—Natasha.
And the night Molly came into my life, it was my fiancée, Claudia.
“I’m not sure I can do this, Sullivan. Look after another person’s daughter, I mean… I need to think about this.”
I didn’t need to think about it.
I packed her bags for her and called her a cab. She was gone before sunrise.
I splash some cold water on my face and walk out into the bedroom. The girls look up expectantly from where they’re both naked on the bed. One is lying with her legs spread wide, teasing herself with the giant rubber dildo.
“I want you inside me first,” she pants, working it inside her, showcasing exactly where she’s inviting me to stick my dick.
“Not fair. In that case, I get to be the first to suck him off,” the other woman mewls.
Their bickering is doing nothing to ease my oncoming headache.
I swipe up my jacket and tie.
“Get out.”
