Cute? The fuck.
I need to go by the office to get her the fuck out of my head. Maybe drown myself in some worthless pussy to remind myself that Isa Johnson—fuck—Isa Royal, does not mean shit to me. But the thought of having any other girl but Isa wrapped around my dick has him doing a duck and hide. Fuck.
“Bryant?” She waits for me to answer whatever she just said, but I don’t know what the fuck she asked because I was too busy thinking about bending her over the bar and smashing her cervix open as I yanked on that sexy little ponytail—fuck.
“Yeah?” Fuck it, I’ll wing it and act like I heard whatever the fuck she was yapping about.
“Can we stop at iHop? I feel like pancakes.”
I smirk. Pancakes. My girl likes pancakes. I’ll be damned. “Done.”
I called her my girl.
I need a new swear word because ‘fuck’ is losing its effect.
Fuck.
“Bryant? Your three o’clock is here…” Dahlia, my assistant, knocks on my door. Which is a good thing, considering all I can think about is our pancake trip last night. Isa went on about her family and how distant they all are. She didn’t need to tell me, though, I pegged that the first time I ever met her father, Mr. President. He’s not a good sort, not even in the slightest, but I voted for him. Why? Because he gives a shit about America, and anyone who gives a shit about ‘Merica, I have time for. Not like the rest of the pussyfooters who had previously run our government. We needed a soldier, a mother-fucking marine, and he is all those things. His fatherly love wasn’t a part of my voting equation and I will probably vote him again. Her stepmom, Lydia, sounds nuts, but the way Isa’s tone changes when she talks about her tells me that there is a slight air of compassion toward her. More than what she shows her father. Her sister sounds nuts too. In fact, they all do. Which is ironic because Isa says she’s the outcast of the family, but the more I get to know her, she’s not the outcast—it’s her family who are the outcasts.
“Yeah, bring him in.” I don’t remember who the fuck my three o’clock is, and I’m pretty sure I didn’t actually book someone for three, but I haven’t been on top of my game much lately, and it has everything to do with a green-eyed brunette who currently bears my last name.
Fucking Isa.
“Royal!” I bring my eyes up to the door and see Devon, Isa’s best-friend walk through the door. I lean back in my chair lazily, an eyebrow raised.
“Devon.” I give him one of my grins as he takes a seat. “I don’t remember having a three o’clock appointment.”
“Funny.” He leans back in his chair, his jaw clenching. “I don’t remember having to book an appointment.”
“What can I do for you?” I glare at him, trying to hide the smug look on my face. Smug because I know how much he must hate that Isa, the girl he’s been in love with for years, is bouncing on my dick now. I discretely readjust myself, squashing any thoughts of Isa ‘bouncin’ on my dick.’
Fuck.
“You can tell me why my cousin decided to marry my best friend.”
I can’t even stop the laugh that escapes me. “Ahh, knew that would be what you wanted.”
Devon leans on his elbow. “I’m serious, B. Why the fuck did you marry Isa. Has this got to do with me? You hate me that much, huh?”
I take back my earlier statement about Isa’s family being all fucked up. I can’t judge, my family would give them a run for their money. And we both have a lot of fucking money.
“Why would this have anything to do with you?” I ask, slightly insulted that he would think I gave a fuck about his existence enough to marry someone just for his discomfort.
He continues to glare at me from across the room. “Why, then?”
I lean forward, tapping on my computer keyboard. “A few reasons, none of which are any of your business. And by the way, why have you stopped talking to her? You didn’t even make the wedding.” I grin, putting a cigarette between my teeth and sparking it up with my Zippo. “I’m rather insulted.”
“You don’t get insulted,” he answers deadpan. He’s right, I don’t, and I might be fishing for a reason to knock his teeth out just for shits and giggles because it’s been a long time since I’ve knocked someone the fuck out.
He gets up from his chair, throwing his hoodie over his head. “Bryant, you hurt her and I will kill you.”
Now, this would be the perfect time, but I’m too zen to give a fuck, so I smirk. “Noted.”