Without Warning: A Billionaire Romance (Playboys of New York Book 5), JA Low [book suggestions .TXT] 📗

both sick fucks, you know that?” Screaming at them both, I point my finger in their direction.

“I’m sorry.” Stanford gives me a pained sniffle.

“I’m sorry, son. It was a fucked-up situation, and I didn’t know how to get out of it,” my father explains.

“You don’t fuck my wife. That’s what you do.” I don’t understand how the two of them didn’t get that.

“She drugged me a lot of the time,” my father states quietly. “I was ashamed that a woman could take me like that.” He lets out a heavy sigh.

“You saying she raped you most of the time?” My eyes slowly blink at my father’s accusations.

“I wouldn’t say that.” He shakes his head. “She prayed on my weakness, which was to be better than you.” My father looks up at me, and there it is, written all over his face. She tapped into his revenge and was able to use it to her advantage.

“You got off on the secret?”

“Yes,” my father agrees.

“I’m disgusted with the two of you. I don’t understand why you both hate me this much. I’ve done nothing to you. Nothing.” Pointing my finger at the two of them, my voice is raised.

“All the girls wanted you. They were never interested in me unless it got them closer to you. All my life, I played second fiddle to you, Rhys.” My brother thumps his chest. “Living in your shadow was debilitating.” His words are like a hard slap to the face.

“How is that my fault?”

“Of course, you’d never understand what it’s like to be rejected over and over again. To being a cheap knock-off of the golden child, Rhys Davenport,” my brother hisses.

“And because of some petty childhood grievance, you fucked my wife.”

“It felt good to get one over on you. The golden child didn’t have everything because his wife chose my bed instead of her husband’s.”

“And my father’s, too,” I add, throwing salt into his wounds.

Stanford bristles at my barb but shakes it off.

“This isn’t going anywhere,” Stirling adds, pulling me back to the matter at hand.

“You’re right.” Trying to compose myself, I continue, “I came here to say I know, Dad… about your debts to the mafia.” My father stills, his eyes widen, and this time he turns deathly white.

“Mafia?” Stanford’s voice raises.

“H… how?” My father’s voice is shaky as he asks.

“Doesn’t matter.” Shaking my head, my father slowly blinks at my statement. “I’m here to pay it off.”

“Dad, what is he talking about?” Stanford questions my father.

“Stay out of it, son,” my father hisses at Stanford, who blanches in his chair.

“It’s a lot of money,” my father states.

“I know, and I have it.” Getting the tiniest bit of glee, knowing that it won’t even make a dent in my bottom line. “What do I have to do to pay it off?”

“I can give you the account details. You need to transfer the ten million dollars into there.” He opens the drawer on his desk and pulls out a piece of paper, then hands it over to me. I snatch it out of his hands and see the bank information written on it.

“Once I pay this money...” looking at my father and brother firmly in the eyes one at a time, “… I want nothing to do with either of you. Ever again.”

“Son!” My father blanches.

“No, Dad.” My eyes narrow on him. “What you two did is unforgivable. I don’t care if Madison was behind it and is some kind of sexual mastermind. The fact you kept doing it when you knew she was my wife is inexcusable.”

“I’m sorry,” my father adds.

“It’s too late for that,” I tell him, then I turn on my heel and walk out of his office. I never want to see them ever again.

“You okay?” Stirling catches up to me as we march into the elevator, the steel doors sliding closed.

“That was fucked-up.” I’m stunned by what has just transpired.

“Um, yeah. It was a major shit show,” Stirling agrees. “Honestly, man, you held up so well in there.”

“I wanted to smash their heads together,” I curse as the elevator doors open, and we step out into the lobby then onto the street. “I need a fucking drink.”

30

Ariana

I’m at Rhys’ apartment again, waiting for him to come home, as I know he was going to confront his dad about everything today. I’m starting to worry as it’s late. He’s not answering his phone or any of my text messages. I don’t want to be one of those girls who needs to keep tabs on their partner, but today of all days, I’m simply worried. Just before I call his sister to find out where the hell he is, the elevator opens, and out stumbles a disheveled looking Rhys.

What the hell happened?

Jumping up off the couch, I rush over to him as he stumbles into the apartment. He throws his suit jacket off the moment he steps inside. He unsteadily kicks off a shoe, which goes flying, just missing the vase of flowers he brought home for me the other day. Then, the next shoe comes off, which nearly trips him over. The closer I get, the stronger the alcoholic vapors that are seeping from his pores become.

“What happened to you?” I’ve never seen Rhys this messed up. He’s usually so put together.

Rhys stills, and those blue eyes widen. Long lashes blink slowly, surprised that I’m standing before him. Rhys’ hand reaches for his tie and pulls it off, a mischievous look falling across his handsome face. He then slaps the tie down across his hand and grins.

“Remember the last time I used this on you?” He wobbles a little bit as he says it with so much innuendo. I try and stifle a giggle because he’s trying to be sexy, but he’s so intoxicated it’s hard to make out the words properly.

“How about we get you into the shower, so you can sober up a little before promising things you can’t deliver at the moment?” I use my