“Really?” Brigitte asked, her tone pitchy. “Here I was worried you’d chickened out, but I should’ve known—you never do anything halfway.”
He angled his head at her, knowing he should let it go. “Excuse me?”
“She and Johnny are over—why?” She paused only a second. “Because she chose you, right? You’re the center of her world. She loves you. But she also hates you. You did more than break her heart—you grabbed her by it, pulled her inside out. You put her life on a completely different course. That’s power, Beau.”
It was a cold truth, one that would sicken anyone else. Not Beau, though. Lola’s world revolving around him made him feel good. Wherever she was, she was thinking of him, and her thoughts weren’t casual. They weren’t nothing.
“Or maybe I’m wrong,” Brigitte said, throwing the words out like a fishing line in a pond.
He bit. “Why?”
She studied him. “You’re on her mind, there’s no question, but she’s also on yours. It would appear after all you’ve done to overcome it, she still has some power over you.”
The car stopped at a light, turning the backseat tomato-red. The engine hummed. “Nobody has power over me,” Beau said evenly. “Not even you.”
Brigitte leaned over to stroke the back of Beau’s hair. Her arm reeked of cigarettes. “You’re frustrated, and I know why. It has nothing to do with her.”
Beau sighed deeply, pointedly not asking why. He considered telling Warner to turn the car around so he could end this day already.
“You miss the thrill of conquest,” Brigitte continued. “For weeks, you had this singular goal to focus on. Now that it’s over, you don’t know what to do with all this nervous energy. Trust me, it isn’t Lola you want.”
“I suppose you know what I want.”
“Of course I do.” She smiled. “We need a new challenge.”
“There’s no we, Brigitte. Any mistakes I’ve made are mine alone. This was my game.”
Brigitte returned to her side of the car. “Mistakes?”
The glasses of the built-in bar rattled as they turned a corner. He’d meant to say conquests, not mistakes, but maybe that’s what this had all been. One big mistake. “Yes.”
“Don’t you dare insult me by saying that whore means anything to you,” Brigitte said. “I’m the one who saved you from making a mistake—twice.”
“Calm down. You’re getting hysterical.”
“You called and woke me up last night to tell me you didn’t think you could go through with it. I talked you off the ledge. Obviously, I didn’t know if she’d see my text this morning, but I knew you would—and I knew you’d regret it if at any point in the night, you got off course.”
“You don’t know shit. You weren’t there. You didn’t see what I did.”
“Jesus, the woman makes a fool of you over and over. It’s disgusting.”
Beau pitied his sister. She wanted so desperately to be a part of something, to belong, that she resorted to grasping at straws. Anything to get under Beau’s skin. He wondered if there would ever come a time she didn’t want to be there.
“That’s enough.”
“It’s sad to see you think you’re in charge when she is. Even I have more control—”
“Enough,” he snapped.
“What are you going to do? Spank me? Is that what you did to her when she said something you didn’t like?”
Beau’s nostrils flared with a sharp inhalation. He could still picture the red curve of Lola’s ass after he’d smacked it. He hadn’t held back in the least, but she’d taken everything without complaint. If he wanted to do it again, why shouldn’t he? There was no woman out there who’d walk away from him if he put his mind to getting her in his bed—including Lola.
Brigitte rolled her eyes. “Just like every other pathetic idiot who’s charmed by a decent pair of tits.”
He grabbed her bicep and pulled her across the backseat. “I’d watch my mouth if I were you. Nobody talks to me that way.”
The car jolted as Warner hit the brakes. “Sir,” he said, glancing at them in the rearview mirror.
“Stay out of this, Warner. Brigitte knows exactly what she’s doing.”
“What am I d
oing?” she asked, blinking at him. “You’re my brother, and I love you. All I want is for you to be happy. Believe me, she won’t make you happy.”
“You only want me to be happy if it means I’m alone. You’re worried if I find someone else, you’ll lose me.”
“Someone else?” Brigitte’s eyes twinkled. “Surely you don’t mean Lola? Come on. Deep down you know the truth.”
Beau restrained from flinging her away. She would say anything to needle him, and she couldn’t possibly know what the truth was. She hadn’t spent more than ten minutes in the same room as Lola and Beau. But he spat the words, unable to help himself. “What’s the truth?”
“You’ll never have her. Do you honestly believe after what you’ve done, you could get her back?” Brigitte sniffed. “Your money didn’t matter to her then, and it means even less now. You can’t buy her, and that’s the only way you know how to get anything.”
“Bullshit. I went twenty-seven years before I ever made a dime.”
“Exactly, and not even Warner would’ve looked in your direction before your money. You had nothing and no one.”
“Brigitte,” Warner cautioned from the front seat.
She ignored him. “No one except me.”
Beau’s temper was getting the best of him. “Brigitte, I’m about as patient with you as can be most of the time, but you’re pressing the wrong buttons.”
“You have no way of winning Lola back. You’ll never be what she needs.”
Beau pushed her off. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“She’s better off without you.”
Beau set his jaw and stared forward at nothing. He didn’t have to look at her to know she wore a smug expression. “Put some perfume on. You fucking stink.”
What pissed Beau off the most was that Brigitte was right. Lola was better off without the man she’d met in front of Hey Joe, but Beau didn’t feel like that man anymore. If Lola hadn’t left that morning, if she hadn’t seen that text, Beau would’ve taken care of her in ways Johnny never could’ve. That had to count for something. And if he wanted her back, nothing would get in his way.