“Oh, I’m serious as shit,” I mumble. A giggle escapes me, and I have to slap my hand over my mouth.
“Who have you been drinking with, Sous?” It comes out dark and threatening. I can’t help but clench my thighs. What the fuck is wrong with me? When did men being demanding dicks turn me on?
“Gray,” I say, stifling another laugh.
“She’s fucking seventeen. If Francis—”
“He’s drinking too,” I interrupt.
“With you?” he accuses, sounding all burly and jealous. God, it’s so hot. He’s so fucking hot. “While I know I’m hot, Sous, I’m your boss, and you probably shouldn’t be saying that.”
“I said that out loud?” I’m mortified at the slip up. I’ve been good for so long that I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be reckless.
“Yes. Why is Frankie drinking?”
“He saw our wedding certificate. Seems he’s not happy about the outcome.”
“Fuck.”
“Fuck,” I repeat, unable to stop laughing at the way he groans. “Wes.” I enunciate the ‘s’ because I’m tripping over the word. “He brought the certificate over. When did we tie the knot, hubbykins?”
“Don’t ever fucking call me that again,” he grumps on the other end. “Remember Vegas?” His voice is gravelly and wetness pools between my thighs.
“Can’t say I do, old man.”
A grumble on the other end of the phone has me smiling wide. “Me either. Which means, that’s probably when we fucked up.”
“Please don’t say that word anymore, Toby. It’s doing weird things to my body.”
“Joey,” he complains huskily, and I can imagine his hand between his thighs stroking up and down. A moan slips out, and I can’t even stop it. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” he grouses, and I’m so hot and bothered, hating and loving vodka with each passing second.
“Come over,” I taunt. “Unless you’re—”
“Don’t finish that fucking sentence.”
“Why, old man, can’t handle my sass?”
“I can handle you well, Sous. Or do I need to remind you of that?”
“Hmm,” I tease. “It’s been too long.”
“I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Don’t you fucking move.” My phone beeps when he disconnects the call.
I take a picture of myself in one of the guest rooms, only wearing my short shorts and camisole without a bra, and send it to Toby. I’m leaning against the bed, my legs wide.
With the caption: Like this, old man?
I bet he’s growling.
I love it when he growls.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Past
Joey
“You need to come home.”
“That is not my home,” I return, hating that I sound as upset as I do. My father grumbles something under his breath, making me clutch my phone tighter.
“If you don’t, I’ll be disappointed.” Like I fucking care at this point, but seeing him with an emotion other than the ones his wife forces onto him is too enticing to ignore.
“Fine. I’ll be there in fifteen.”
I press my code in the front gate, and as it opens, I almost wish I could destroy it and his perfect storybook house. He thinks that being in this big castle makes him any less sad. He’s a very lonely man. His wife doesn’t love him, he doesn’t love himself, and he’s slowly losing my love too.
His heart that used to be full of kindness is now hollow and desolate.
“Miss Moore, so nice to see you,” Gareth mutters, I groan, but otherwise ignore him. We don’t like each other. He always told on me to Dad when I snuck out.
I enter my old house with a bitterness in my gait, making sure to smack my heels loudly so he’s aware I’ve arrived. He hates noise and unnecessary drama. I’d just gotten the news yesterday that Toby and I are married. While he took it well, I’m not sure why. As I round the dining room, I see him seated with Marsha. When my eyes hit the opposite side of the table where I normally sit, my heart sinks.
Toby.
In the flesh.
“Toby?” I question, watching as his annoyed gaze and posture meet my surprised ones.
“Joey,” he addresses me, not giving anything away.
“Sit down, Josephine. We have much to discuss.” The scathing glare my dad sends my way makes Marsha smile and never in my life have I wanted to smack a look off someone’s face as much as I do now.
I sit next to Toby, putting a hand on his thigh for comfort. It isn’t until he stiffens that I realize I’ve overstepped my boundaries.
“Have you watched the news recently, Josephine?”
“Does a bear shit in the woods?”
Toby coughs into his champagne, and I smile in kind. Fuck these rich dicks. They’re horrible to me and expect me