Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 114936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 575(@200wpm)___ 460(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 575(@200wpm)___ 460(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
All laughter between us dies when I see Jordan and Christopher both standing near my car. “Oops.”
Jordan opens the back door and I pull Kenan in with me, where he stumbles on top, his cheek pressed to my cleavage.
Both of my men get into the car and pull away.
“You found me!” I tap the back of their chairs. “Was it hard?”
“No, Cartier, it wasn’t. The only McLaren in Kiznitch isn’t hard to find.” I push Kenan off my chest and he falls asleep in the chair, his head tilting against the headrest and his mouth opened slightly as he snores.
“I’m not apologizing to either of you. I’m in Kiznitch—” Leaning forward, I turn on the radio. “I’m safe here.”
“Cartier.” Jordan turns to face me. “We work for you, not with you, or the other way around. You don’t owe us anything. We just wanted to make sure you were safe. That is our job to do.” My mouth closes. I feel like an idiot. Damn alcohol. This is why I hate the stuff.
We start driving up the familiar steep hill that leads directly to The Castle. Little lights hang on the side of the road connecting healthy shrubs along the path. When we finally pull through the high wired gates and to the round entrance, stopping outside two large, old, stained doors, I push Kenan out of the opened door and he wakes, swiping the saliva off his mouth.
Laughing, I catch him with my arm while swiping my hair back with my fingers as the front doors swing open and Kyrin stands at the threshold, pointing a finger directly at me with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth.
“You! I swear to fucking God, you are fucking grounded.”
My mouth slams closed, and maybe it’s the alcohol, but laughter bubbles up my throat as I continue to carry Kenan up the stairs. “You can’t ground me. Nice work, though.”
“No?” Kyrin yells, and I turn around to cuss him out, only I’ve realized how stressed he looks. His hair is a mess, dark rims beneath his eyes. God. What is the time? “Maybe not, but I’ll tell you, Cartier.” He steps up the stairs, closing the distance between us. “Keaton can.” I shove away from him and move through the doors. I can apologize tomorrow when he’ll take it more seriously. Kyrin has never liked me when I drink. “Not that it matters, though!” he finally calls out, just as I enter The Castle. I can feel the heat from the lit fires and candles, but I turn around to face my brother anyway, because I get it. I get why he’s angry at me, but I’m just too drunk to care right now. “Since he’s not alone, and let me just say since it’s a topic we haven’t spoken on before.” Kyrin sucks down on his smoke before flicking it to the side and into the garden. I glare at him, annoyed at his laziness. “I will not come between whatever drama you and Keaton have. You wanna fuck a Brother, Cartier?” Kyrin’s mouth tilts up, his eyebrows dropping in and I know. I know he’s going to say something harsh. “Then by all means, Princess. You do that, but let me tell you one thing.” He flicks my forehead with his finger and anger explodes inside of me. What does he mean Keaton isn’t alone? “What do Brothers do well?”
Then he’s back inside and climbing the right wing of the twin staircase, leaving me speechless, drunk, tired, hungry, and angry all at once.
“He’s right—” Kenan slurs, and I hike him up my shoulder but then shift him to Chris and Jordan to direct upstairs. “You’re going to get hurt.” Kenan’s head tilts to the side. “And you chose the worst one.” I follow behind them as they drop Kenan into his room, before they both follow me to mine. Part of me wants to go and see Keaton, but I know I’d just keep drinking if I walked in on something I didn’t want to see, so instead, I find myself in my suite after climbing the round staircase that leads to my private quarters and slipping into a hot shower. As soon as the water hits my skin, I feel all the tension I was just feeling disappear. I may be twenty, but I cannot party like that, it would seem. Now with Chris and Jordan in their bedrooms below mine, I know I can truly relax. For one night. I need orange juice. Isn’t that what helps kick alcohol out of your body? And bread.
I need a burger.
After wrapping my hair in a towel, I slip into a short black silk robe and grab my phone, opening the Uber Eats app. “Starving.” I order a whole bunch of burgers and fries and orange juice before checking the time. It’s three a.m., and Bishop is supposed to be here tonight. Whoops. Yes. I shouldn’t have gone out.