Nicole cringes. “I hate the man my father has become.”
“Enough talk about men,” I grumble, sick of them infiltrating our lives. Everywhere I turn, there’s a man trying to fuck with my life. “I need a proffee and a strawberry muffin.”
“Oh! Same,” Dani agrees with a grin. “I’ve been trying to keep it to one coffee a day, but I can barely stay awake, thanks to this little one keeping me up all night.”
She rubs her hand lovingly across her bump, and my heart squeezes in my chest. I hate that I never got to feel my baby in me—and thanks to Kane, I never will.
As if I’ve conjured him by thought alone, the door dings, and in walks the devil himself. He’s staring down at his phone, looking every bit like the business mogul he is—dressed in a sharp black suit, his hair freshly cut, and his angular, stubbled jaw tense in concentration.
As if he can sense me staring at him, his head shoots up, and his whiskey eyes meet mine. His features soften slightly, replaced by a cocky smirk.
“Oh, you’re here.” He saunters over to me. “Just saved me a text. I have a business dinner tonight. We’re going to Archies,” he says, referring to one of the most exclusive restaurants in North Harbor Point, “so dress accordingly. I’ll pick you up at six.
My jaw drops, and when I glance at Nicole and Dani, they both look equally flabbergasted by Kane’s abrupt tone.
“Oh, so we’re making demands now?” I say sweetly, reminding myself that I can’t murder this man in the middle of Nicole’s coffee shop. “In that case, I demand you go fuck yourself.”
Nicole snorts out a laugh, and Dani covers her mouth. Kane doesn’t look amused in the slightest. Good. I’m not either.
“I have plans tonight with Nicole.” I pat his chest condescendingly. “So, it looks like you’re on your own.”
Kane
Where the hell are you?
Kane
I told you I was picking you up at 6:00.
Kane
Brielle, stop playing fucking games.
“Canyou believe the nerve of that asshole?” I grab the bottle of tequila sitting on the bar and pour myself another shot. I sprinkle some salt on my wrist, lick it, then throw the shot back. It burns, going down, numbing both my belly and my brain. “It’s not enough that he’s forcing me to marry him, but now he thinks he owns my time?” I grab a lime and bite into it, shaking my head as the bitterness chases away the taste of the tequila. “Fuck that and fuck him!” I slam the shot glass on the bar top.
Nicole looks at me with sympathetic eyes, but she doesn’t bother to say anything because there’s nothing to say that will make any of this better.
“I hate him,” I tell her. “I hate him and …”Fuck, I want him.
No matter how much I hate him, I equally want him.
In bed. His body against mine.
I want to taste him. Suck him. Kiss him. Fuck him.
“Fuck! I hate him.”
Just as I pour myself another shot and throw it back, my phone rings, and Kane’s name pops up, making me regret giving him my number. I consider blocking him, but the drunken part of me has other ideas.
I click Accept. “How was it?”
“I had to cancel,” Kane says. “You were supposed?—”
“No,” I cut him off. “I meant, how was fucking yourself?”
I bark out a laugh at my joke, and Nicole joins in.
“Where are you?” Kane growls over the line.
