“Cole, it’s true. I have so much going on right now, and I haven’t been myself. I’ve been distracted and caught up with you and with working all the hours God sends to keep my head above water. I didn’t stop to evaluate what was happening between Cal and me. I never meant to hurt you, and I certainly didn’t set out to come between two brothers.”
I want to believe her, believe that this is all a consequence of twisted fate and bad timing. She looks so sad and vulnerable right now and my body is screaming to go to her, to offer her comfort, but my head is picturing her in bed with Callum. It takes all my energy not to ball my fist and smash it into the nearest door. I’m not a violent person, not even close, but the need to vent my anger is virtually overwhelming.
I can’t accept that they didn’t know what they were doing—how could that be possible? She’s been seeing me regularly; she must have spoken about me to him if they’re so-called friends. I don’t believe that my name never came up in conversation, that she didn’t tell him she was meeting up with me, or that she was meeting me in my neighborhood. There must have been a thousand cues that could have sparked recognition with Cal. I want to believe that I’m wrong and that they’re telling the truth, but I don’t.
Each time I run the scenario through my mind, all I can come up with is that they had to have known. They’ve probably been having a great time laughing about this. She’s played me, and I was too blinded by her allure and her appearance to even notice. I’m a lawyer, for fuck’s sake, it’s supposed to be second nature for me to question everything. To add insult to injury, I had to take a punch from my younger brother in front of a room full of people, including Jeff fucking Michaels. They’ve not only embarrassed me, they’ve hung me out to dry in full view of my colleagues and my most important client.
My shoulders are stiff from the tension they’re holding, and my bones are aching as they vibrate with the rage I’m desperately trying to contain. I need an outlet for this fury, and it would be easy to direct it at Robyn, but I’m not that much of a bastard. I’m painfully aware that making her feel bad wouldn’t make me, or this mess, any better.
“I don’t understand how you both didn’t know; you must have.”
“I swear to you Cole, I didn’t—we didn’t.”
“Bullshit. I have a goddamn huge picture in my apartment of Cal and me and you’ve been to my place; there’s no way you haven’t noticed it.”
“You mean the picture where you’re about ten years old? How the hell would I know the little boys in that picture were you and Callum?”
“He hasn’t changed! He looks exactly the fucking same!” I roar.
“To you!” she bites back. “Do you honestly think that little of me? You think that I would do this knowingly?”
I can’t believe my ears. Does she even understand what she’s said?
“Robyn, you did do this knowingly. Okay, so you may not have realized that Callum was my brother, but you still decided to sleep with him after everything you’ve said to me about not being ready, needing time. I guess that only applied to me, then?”
I seem to have hit a nerve; she stands taller and looks me dead in the eye.
“Cole, I’m sorry for what has happened, truly I am. But we’re not in a relationship, and we never have been. I know you’re pissed at this situation, but I’m not about to get into this argument that you’re vying for. What happened between Callum and I wasn’t planned.”
I need an outlet, and I need it now. I want to tear upstairs and beat the shit out of Callum for fucking my girl, for hitting me in public, and for making me feel second-rate. He’s my little brother; I’ve been able to kick his ass since we were five years old. I’m the sensible one—older, wiser. I have a great job, and I’m respected—that’s how it’s supposed to be. He shouldn’t be able to make me feel like a pussy, but he has.
Despite my maturity, my ability to foresee that I’ll calm down and look at this in a different light given time, I still want to beat my chest and take back some form of authority. I need to show him—and her—that I’m the alpha in this situation. I’m not someone you play and get away with it.
I need to screw someone and put Robyn out of my head. She’s emasculated me, betrayed me, and then had the audacity to spit out the cold hard facts in my face. She’s right, we were never in a relationship, and I guess the dates and time we spent together were one-sided. Her affection towards me was apparently all in my head.
It took all my strength to walk out of Reveal and not go find Cal like he’d asked. I know if I’d faced him, it wouldn’t have ended well. I’d rather avoid confrontation than attempt to resist it, so I walked out of the club after finding the guys and apologizing to Jeff. I’ve probably shot my career progression to shit, so I jumped in a cab and headed straight home before I could do anything else that I would regret. My pride has taken a serious beating tonight, and I need to let go of this tension that feels like it’s eating me alive. Instead of opening a bottle and drowning my sorrows in the bottom of a whiskey glass, I decide to drown them in Chantal.
I send her a text as soon as I’m through my front door, never more appreciative of her living in the same building. She takes twenty minutes to reply, enough time for me to drink a quarter of a bottle of scotch and be well on my way to the numbing bliss that only alcohol can induce. By the time Chantal is knocking at my door, sobriety is a distant memory. Unfortunately, the image of Callum and Robyn having sex is not. Anger is still my prevailing emotion; that, and the need to exert my manliness. I open the front door to Chantal wearing an oversized pale blue shirt, tied at the waist like a dress and a pair of sky-high heels, a bottle of Patron hanging loosely by her side.
“Bad day?” she asks with a raised brow. I open the door fully and let her enter.
“Really don’t feel like talking at the moment,” I tell her as I take the bottle and place it on the countertop. I lace my fingers with hers and pull her through my apartment, straight down the hall and into my bedroom.
Getting her naked is my number-one priority as I push her down onto my huge, soft, neatly-made bed and kneel, removing her heels as she observes me with a knowing smirk.
“You won’t be needing these,” I tell her as I pull them off, tossing them haphazardly behind me. “Or this,” I say, unbuttoning her shirt. All I can concentrate on is burying myself so far inside of her that there won’t be any room for any other thoughts.
“Wow, something’s eating you up. I’m pretty sure you haven’t even said hello.”
I push her back onto the bed and watch as her chest bounces from the force of the impact.
“You want me to stop so we can make small talk?” I ask, but don’t give her much time to answer as I’m already pulling down the pale pink lace panties she’s wearing.
“Hell, no! Carry on, I like dark and brooding Cole,” she breathes as I stand and remove my shirt.
My cock twitches as she scoots up the bed, undoing her bra in the process. I haven’t had sex since meeting Robyn; this has to be the longest dry spell of my adult life. I watch, transfixed as Chantal throws her bra from the side of my bed, and my body floods with desire. I’m out of my trousers and underwear in seconds; then I’m fumbling around in my nightstand for a condom.
“Want me to oblige?” Her eyes are huge as she stares at me. I love that I can see the want in them. I toss her the condom and watch in rapture as she tears it open and then deftly rolls the latex down over me. A groan rumbles from my chest as she lets her hand linger at my base and uses her other one to cup my balls.
“I’ve missed this,” she says looking up at me from under a set of long thick lashes, and then I’m done for. I need to be in her before I embarrass myself.
Without a word I flip her onto her front, lifting her ass so she’s on her knees with her chest on the bed. I take in the sight of her, ready and waiting for me. The sounds of her shocked heavy breathing makes me smile, and then in one hard thrust I’m balls deep and her startled scream of pleasure cuts through the quiet.