Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“I know.”
“You do?”
She shrugged. “You think you’re the first guy who acted sweet to me only after he figured out who my father was?”
“Find better people.”
“Shouldn’t you know by now how our world works?”
“It’s not my world. It never was.” And he was going to prove it.
By the time he reached the crowded dance floor, the Sassy Boyz had already left and Craig and Malcolm had disappeared. Rafe stood in the middle of the room, strangers on all sides. Everything was falling apart. His future was slipping through his fingers, the life he’d built collapsing around him like a fragile house of cards. Had it been so tenuous the entire time? Had he been too consumed to realize how close he’d been to disaster?
He bent at the waist to suck air into his frozen lungs. The room closed in on him. There were too many bodies, too many eyes. Christ, he felt like he was drowning. All the fears and worries he carried around like boulders threatened to pull him under.
With closed eyes, he pictured Hop—bright eyes, wide smile, and a rainbow of possibilities. A weight in his chest lifted.
He had to protect Hop.
He needed to defend what was his, whatever it took.
* * *
“You’re not allowed in there.”
A commotion had Hop looking toward the dressing room door.
“Let me in, I’m here to see my brother.”
“Malcolm.” Hop grabbed the back of the chair he was standing behind.
“Hello, Hopkins.” His smile was hard, like the look in his eyes. “My how you’ve changed.”
The perfect picture of a spoiled son of a multibillionaire, he strode into the room as if he owned it.
“When Craig first told me he’d run into you at Golden Boy’s club, I didn’t believe him. I said no way would you be stupid enough to show your face around Rafe. Then he told me that you were dressing up in women’s clothes and acting like a girl. It was too good to pass up, you understand.”
“So, what?” Hop asked. “Now you’ve found me, what are you going to do?”
“Enjoy the moment, for one.”
Hop perched hands on hips. “Take a good long look, asshole. Even in heels and makeup I’m more of a man than you’ll ever be.”
Malcolm snarled. “You are a fucking waste of sperm. My father should have sliced you out of your mother before you were born.”
Ansel and Z both stepped forward.
“Okay, asshole, time to leave,” Ansel said.
“Why does everyone keep telling me to leave?” Malcolm threw his hands in the air. “I’m not going anywhere until I get pictures of that freak. You think I could sell them to the tabloids for some quick cash?”
“Bitch, we’re in New York City. Is a man in heels really the strangest thing you’ve seen today?” Z asked.
“Who the fuck are you and why are you talking to me?”
By now a horde of witnesses had gathered around them. Hop’s anger reached volcanic levels. This was his space. Malcolm didn’t have power here. He gathered all the confidence he’d found submitting to Rafe, all the comfort and security that gave him strength, and pushed between his friends.
“The last time we saw each other you called my mother a slut. This time you call me a freak?”
“I only speak the truth.”
“Please, the only truth you know is green.”
Malcolm lifted a shoulder. “Money rules the world and I have tons of it.”
“Don’t you mean Daddy does?”
“Says the piece of trash who’s been feeding off our scraps his whole life. You think I don’t know that my father has funded you and your whore mother this whole time?”
Hop took a step closer. Malcolm had always been on the small side, and in his heels, Hop stood a head taller than him. “Don’t call my mother a whore.”
“What else do you call a slut who tries to blackmail a man into marriage by getting pregnant?”
“You are seriously inspiring my inner serial killer. One more word about my mother and I’ll let it out on your face.”
“Don’t you dare threaten me. I’ve one thing my father didn’t.” He pointed a thumb at Craig, who leaned against the doorway with a shit-eating grin on his face. “A witness. You and that scum Rafe are going to see what it means to be blackballed in New York City. When I’m done with Rafe, he won’t even be able to open a fucking strip club. I can’t believe that asshole hired you. Doesn’t he know who’s paying his fucking bills?”
Years of frustration and anger boiled to the surface. He remembered all the times he’d hid behind cars spying on his father across the street, all the ways he’d tried to get attention, and the shame he’d lived with knowing he’d never been wanted, never been good enough.
Rafe had been the one to help him, then and now. He couldn’t let Malcolm get away with hurting Rafe.