tendrils of heat that tease the edges of my womb, faint reminders of the heat of his gaze…
…while he Kissed. My. Sister.
What the hell is wrong with me?
4
Luca
When Margot and I stumble inside, I run my hands over her fit, near-perfect body. She kisses me, and then pulls away. Her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes look a little hazy from drinking. Or did she take something else? Maybe she’s a lightweight.
“You want to come upstairs?” she drawls.
Unease twinges in the pit of my stomach. She’s far from sober.
Margot arches a fine eyebrow and holds out her manicured hand. I nod, letting her lead me upstairs. Her house is nice, with a wide staircase leading up to the second floor. The place stinks of new money. The rugs are thick, the art is modern, and the decor is sterile.
I hate it.
But I let this pretty, young woman take me by the hand and lead me to her bedroom. Her king-sized, four-poster bed is made, which I like. Nothing bothers me more than someone who’s messy.
Margot fumbles with my buttons and I stand there, not moving. I know I would hate myself if I fucked her right now. She’d wake up and she might regret it, or she might not—but I know I would. When she finally gets my shirt unbuttoned, she pushes it off my shoulders and lets out a giggle.
“Your body is royally hot.” The actress looks up at me through her eyelashes, giving me her best sexy pout. Her hand drifts down to the outside of my pants.
I glance down at my crotch.
No movement.
I clear my throat. “I have to pee. Bathroom?”
Margot nods to a door beside us, and I gently extricate myself from her hold. I wink at her and give her a soft kiss on the lips before disappearing into her ensuite.
Once inside I let out a sigh. What the hell is wrong with me? Usually, I’d be ready to go. I’d have her splayed out on top of the bed and I’d be plowing her from here to Argyle. Leaning against the sink, I close my eyes and try to gather myself.
It’s because of Cara. I know it is. Being close to her at the event tonight threw me off. I just can’t get used to seeing her with my brother, even though it’s been over a year since they were married. I can’t see my life without her by my side. I can’t imagine her spending it with someone else.
The day I found out they were engaged was the same day I took my first step after an experimental operation and lots of physiotherapy. It was the best and worst day of my life. I’d thought of Cara constantly after the accident that made me paraplegic, and the thought of coming back to her was what got me through the low, low months that followed.
Then, I became a miracle, and my life became a nightmare. All in the same day.
We were attached at the hip from the time we were toddlers until the time I jumped off a cliff into water that was a little too shallow. When I broke my back, everything changed. I thought I’d be with her forever, and I still can’t get used to the fact that it won’t happen.
She couldn’t wait for me. She couldn’t even visit me.
When I was sent off to Singapore for my seventh operation, she kissed me on the lips and told me she loved me. Then, four years later—one year ago—she married my fucking brother and became my Queen.
Is that what she calls love?
I turn the faucet on and let it run, watching the water for a few moments. Then, I open the medicine cabinet and have a look. I glance over my shoulder, listening for any noise on the other side of the door.
I hear nothing.
Margot’s got Prozac, Celexa, Zoloft—all three bottles old and expired—a bunch of antihistamines, some bullshit fat-burning supplements, and some Advil. Nothing too interesting. Nothing too fun. Sort of like Margot. I close the medicine cabinet and splash a bit of water on my face. Patting it dry, I rack my brain for a way to get out of this situation.
I need to stay with Margot, if only to make Cara jealous. I don’t give a shit about the fact that my PR team wants us together for the month, but I did love the daggers that Cara was shooting at me.