“Yes, yes,” I pant as a wave of euphoria ripples through me when my thoughts go to him moving down from my asshole and taking my pussy with one forceful jerk of his hips. I snap from my fantasy when my door bursts open.
“Sofina, did you take my…oh, Jesus Christ, Sof.”
Pulling the covers over my body, I point to the door screaming, “Get the fuck out, Lucca.”
“I’m sorry,” he grumbles, covering his eyes as he turns back toward the door. “Just wanted my black Candlebox sweatshirt. Have you seen it?”
Seriously.
Brothers.
Mine’s an asshole.
“Fuck off, Lucca,” I snap before muttering, “I’m never coming out of my room again.”
“Don’t be dramatic,” he bites back as he stomps away.
I listen for his footfalls to fade down the hall and scrub my hands over my face. Mortifying.
When I finally come downstairs, he’s in the kitchen eating a bowl of cereal.
His eyes scan me over the lip of the bowl as he shovels spoonful after spoonful into his mouth like a starved teen. I spot his Candlebox sweatshirt crumpled up on one of the chairs and roll my eyes.
“You shouldn’t barge into my room like that.”
“Obviously. Don’t want to see that shit again.”
I flip him off.
“Was that money you were rolling around in?” he asks. When I don’t answer, he puts down his bowl and folds his arms over his chest. “Where did you get that kind of money?” He walks over to where I’m standing and narrows his eyes on me. “Because I know you don’t make those kinds of tips.”
I reach down for his sweater and shove it into his chest. “It’s none of your damn business. And stay out of my room.”
“Did that record label prick give you that with talks of how special you are?” He smirks.
“Fuck you, Lucca. Why are you so against me being more than a bartender? Is it because you’re worried I’ll leave you like everyone else has?”
His fingers grip my shoulders digging into the flesh, making me wince. “I gave up my entire life to come back here for you,” he snarls. “We live in the real world, Sof, with bills to pay in order to keep a roof over our heads. I can’t be filling your head with dreams, knowing at the end of the day you’re going to end up right back here working Dad’s bar like me.”
Knocking his hands away, I shake my head. “Not me, Luc. It’s going to be different for me.”
Snorting, he shakes his head. “Yeah, that’s what I said too, and then Dad drank himself to death and I had to come home and raise you, so you didn’t end up in the system.”
“Maybe it would have been better if I did,” I lie, spitting venom.
He grits his teeth and a muscle ticks in his jaw. “Take that back.”
“I gotta go, or I’ll be late for work,” I snap, waltzing out. “Can’t have that. My boss is a real douchebag.”
I hear his calls all the way to the end of the front yard, but I ignore every single one of them.
Three days I’ve kept my distance. Three long days. It’s unusual for someone to have such a hold on me, but there it is all the same. An aura in the air whenever I think of her, and it’s a fucking lot.
Sofina.
Fuck, I can’t get her plump lips out of my mind.
Me: I’m signing her.
My phone chirps with an incoming message from my brother.
Ren: Told you.
Confident little shit.
Eve jumps up from her desk as I walk through the lobby of our building.
“Oh, Mr. Hayes. I’m sorry to bother you first thing, sir, but we had an irate man call saying some awful things.” She’s out of breath and clearly flustered from the ordeal.
Placing my hand on her arm, I usher her down the corridor to my office and pour her some water. “Take a breath, and when you’re ready, tell me what the man said exactly.”
That arrogant little prick.
Sofina’s asshole brother crossed a line today.
How fucking dare he think he can call the main desk and rant about me paying Sofina for things that never happened.
Pushing my foot down, I speed the entire way to their bar.
Fire rages in my gut as I swing the door open and step inside. It’s dead. Not a soul in sight. A shuffling sound filters through the air from behind the bar, but I don’t see anyone there. Marching toward the sound, I look over the chipped bar and frown. Sofina is on her knees, scrubbing the floor with a brush.
“What are you doing?” I bark, and she lets out a scream, her body jolting and knocking into the bucket of water with her knees that she’s bent over, causing it to splash up and everywhere, including all over the front of her shirt.
“Oh my God! You scared the crap out of me.” She gasps, holding a hand to her chest. She then attempts to wipe her wet splotched shirt, but only makes the fabric stick to her skin and highlight the mounds of her breasts.