Page 5 of Shark’s Pride

She whimpered, and I could picture her face falling into the cradle of her hands. “Oh Baaaassss…”

“That’s well within legal boundaries.” I forced the nonchalance, knowing her reaction was only the first of this kind that I’d field. Hell, it’d be the same no matter who I spoke to. Although I was also sure most men would give me conspiratorial nods, maybe even slipping in high fives when their significant other wasn’t watching.

“Barely,” Pia finally bit out. She took a deep breath, likely centering herself. “Okay, go on. God, I’m going to regret saying that, aren’t I?”

“You’re making a bigger deal out of it than needs to be. It may be a moot point, anyway, given the way she’s treating me now.”

I cringed at the petulance in my voice. Apparently feeling regret wasn’t enough? Now I was discovering the glories of being pussy whipped after one fuck?

Jesus Christ.

“Well, you had sex with the girl—her first intercourse ever—and then skipped town.”

“I did not skip town.” I gritted my teeth to rein in my frustration. “That’s not how it was, Pia.”

My sister let out one of her finest, longest sighs this time. “Well, regardless of how you’ve mentally rewritten history, it’s not the most reassuring chain of events—especially to an inexperienced young woman.”

“I explained why I had to go out of town. She said she understood.” She had said that, hadn’t she? “She owns a business, for Christ’s sake! She knows how business keeps pushing and pulling, no matter what you have going on in your personal life. The woman is mature beyond her years.” A warm smile spread across my lips as I thought about some marketing ideas I’d been brainstorming with Abbi while she set up my lunch one day. I had to shake my head a bit to remind myself of the mess I was actually wading through at the moment.

“She wouldn’t have said she understood if she was going to act juvenile about everything afterward,” I insisted one last time.

Pia didn’t respond for a long moment. When she did, it was with another turn toward tenderness. And damn it, I instantly longed for her fury again. “Maybe she’s acting that way because she’s exactly that.” Yeah, definitely the fire and brimstone instead. “Have you considered the possibility, Bas?”

I fumed. “She doesn’t act immature about anything else. Ever. It’s so out of character.” I drove my free hand through my hair. “Damn it, Pia. I think that’s why I’m so confused. I wouldn’t have predicted this in a hundred years. It’s a total bait and switch.”

“A bait and—” She interrupted herself with a choke. Dread invaded my chest. Uh-oh. I’d crossed the battle lines and was now into the realm of the unspoken, invisible sisterhood bond that existed between women. “This is all her fault, then?” And yes, my sister was ever the enforcer of that realm.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying.” I sighed, already knowing I was defeated in this imaginary battle. That, joined with my exhaustion from the travel, was wrecking my guts, cell by painful cell.

“Good. I was just making sure. Because whatever point you are trying to make here, Bas? It sounds a lot like you’re just assigning blame. Tread carefully. And I don’t mean with me. I mean with Abbigail.”

“But—”

“Carefully.”

“Christ. I’ve even sent flowers!” I offered, despite her scoff coming loud and clear across the miles. “Every day!”

Pia huffed again. No way could I mistake the reaction for anything other than what it was. Disapproval for a ridiculous, over-the-top—not to mention cliché—gesture that Abbi would undoubtedly see right through as well.

“Things are really screwed up, Dub.”

“Hold on; I’ve got to alert the press.” But the gibe was given with underlines of love, along with sincere sympathy. My sister, the honest and brave badass that she was, didn’t know how to give comfort in any other way.

“The phone service was abysmal where we were in Malaysia,” I told her. “Believe me, I tried to get a line out—more than once.”

“I believe you.”

“But will she?” I countered. “If I know her at all, I’m sure she’s convinced I’ve completely ghosted her. I talked to her so infrequently, and the few texts she actually sent back were so detached…” My words drifted off as her text messages flashed through my memory, making me cringe with dread.

“Okay, so it’s time to stop wallowing here. It’s really not a good look on you. But the Sebastian Shark I know certainly doesn’t wallow.” Her voice was stamped with confidence.

“No. He sure as hell doesn’t.” Still, I kneaded my furrowed brow in an attempt to banish the stress.

“He makes plans. He fixes things. And he goes after what he wants.”

“But he needs to stop talking about himself in the third person, Dub, because it’s super narcissistic and a touch creepy. But you’re right about everything else.”

“Fine. Point taken.” She let a comfortable silence settle between us for a few beats until I looked at my phone screen to see if I’d dropped the call. Her voice came back on the line just before I was going to ask her why she’d gotten so quiet. “So what are you going to do about this?”