Tragic King (The Dominant Bastard Duology 2)

“Be my guest.”

He nodded a polite acknowledgment to Loïc, walked back to the bike then began to check the welds the way Severin would if he was buying it.

“Nice to see one of your bikes going to a kindred spirit,” Loïc murmured quietly enough that the buyer couldn’t hear him. “Still waters run deep.”

The man grunted in approval a few times then wandered back over and handed an envelope to Severin, who put it in the pocket of his abused leather jacket.

“Solid work,” the man said, looking impressed. “Ugly as fuck.”

“Like me.”

The man’s mouth quirked. “And me.”

He helped the man load it into the trailer and strap it down, then turned back to Loïc as the man drove away, content that the bike was going to someone who understood his work.

Loïc was already standing by the driver’s side of his sports car. Severin stopped on the passenger side and raised a brow at the door.

“Yeah, I don’t know if you’re going to fit,” Loïc said, chuckling. He eyed Severin then eyed the car door. “Might need some lube.”

*

He’d finished a new bike.

He’d walked the dogs.

Minnow had gone out shopping.

Loïc had gone for a drive.

Rodrigo had gone home to work first thing that morning.

God, he’d never needed people around before, but the house was weirdly quiet, and he didn’t feel like starting a new project or eating. There was no one home to torment and he was bored.

The idea of going out to look for Minnow just so he could fuck with her was appealing, but having to deal with a mall full of people was a serious deterrent. Rodrigo, though, was probably alone, sitting in his house, being good and minding his own business.

He let himself in through Ro’s gate and didn’t knock on the door before entering.

For Rodrigo, he’d never knocked. They’d treated each other’s houses as their own for so long, Severin could hardly remember a time where they’d stood on ceremony.

The idiot never locked the door. Typical Rodrigo. His place was in town, unlike Severin’s – all sleek and modern – and without much in the way of security. A sitting duck, like its owner.

He strolled through the house, aware he was tracking mud in on his boots. Like he gave a shit. Well, he did, but it made him happy. Perfect fucking Rodrigo needed things in his life sullied.

He moved up the stairs to Rodrigo’s office.

In the silence of the house he could hear Rodrigo’s voice. From his tone, he was using the business persona Severin hated, yet had made them both a lot of money. People loved the self-possessed, daring and impeccably dressed version of Ro. Severin liked him better at home, in jeans, tattoos showing, with evil smiles and rumpled hair. Better still, Severin liked him naked and balls deep in Minnow. He loved the way he gasped when he got off. That moment of complete vulnerability.

He’d seen every look of desire Rodrigo had aimed his way over the years, but hadn’t known what to do with it – had been content to leave things as they were until Loïc came along.

He hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself before the alleyway, but for years he’d thought of Rodrigo as his.

The door to Rodrigo’s office was closed, but the handle turned under Severin’s hand. Rodrigo stood, looking out the window and talking on his cell, his back to Severin. Despite the discussion he was having with someone about investment shit, he was still wearing jeans and a T-shirt. From the looks of things, he’d been running his hand through his hair and it stood up at odd angles. Nice.

Today he was half Severin’s Rodrigo, and half public Rodrigo. Broad shoulders sloped to narrow waist and hips. His ass looked good in jeans – not that it didn’t look good in dress clothes.

As he approached, he glanced at Rodrigo’s open laptop. A picture of his mother transitioned to one of his sister and nephew, to one of Minnow checking out the Maserati he’d recently acquired. A headshot of his brother, Fidel, from some movie he’d starred in. A picture of Minnow sleeping, beautiful, her hair wild and bare shoulders visible. A picture of Severin frozen, hammer raised mid-strike in the forge. When had he taken that?

Embarrassment made his face hot. Fuck, he was ugly, especially after seeing that picture of Minnow. Why would Rodrigo have kept that – or have taken it in the first place? A picture of Mayte’s husband Dax giving the camera the finger while Mayte was kissing his cheek. Minnow sticking her tongue out. Severin’s brother Church, and his wife Ilse and the kids, clowning around the Christmas before. John, Rodrigo’s former valet, on a sunny beach with his wife. Severin in profile, fishing, looking across the water at the lake. He’d never really thought about how his underbite made him look mean.