I turned around and faced Carmen. “You can go into my room. I’ll have one of the servants get you some clothes and make you breakfast. I’m sorry it turned out this way.”

With a shocked face, she looked at Dad and then directed her attention to me. “No. I have to go. This is too much. I don’t think your father is smart or sober enough to not call me anymore demeaning names. And I don’t think you’ll let him breathe if he says one more racist remark.”

“I won’t.” I nodded.

“Yeah.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “And thank God I don’t have my little pistol. He might’ve been filled with bullets after the monkey comment.”

I held in my laughter. “Let’s go in my room to talk.”

“No.” She gestured to the mirror. “Look at yourself. You’re my hero, but you’re covered in blood. You should clean up.” She pointed at him. “He should go somewhere and sleep or die.” She touched her chest. “And I should get the hell out of here.”

I turned to the mirror. I looked deranged—my cock was erect and my fists remained clenched and hungry for violence. Blood was everywhere—on my hands and his face. I stood close enough to Dad that it looked like he’d been giving me a blowjob and was on a break. Of course, he palmed his face and whimpered like a baby. If we’d been captured in a photo, people would’ve thought it was an advertisement for rough gay porn.

“Okay.” I backed away from him. “Things are a bit out of hand.”

“I have to go,” she said.

“Where?”

“Home, Adrian. And could you please put some clothes on?”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Let’s talk about this in my room.”

“No.”

I caught her gaze straying to my cock. “Please.”

She headed off to the bathroom. “I need some breathing room. That was intense.”

I waved my hands. “What’re you saying?”

“Take that begging into another room.” Stumbling along, Dad slowly rose from the floor and collapsed onto the bed. His fart blared. He was drunker than I’d thought.

“Just go to sleep, Dad.”

Carmen slammed the bathroom door behind her. I glanced at the doorway and spotted two maids peeking in. They rushed away when they realized I’d caught them. Everything had gotten out of hand. I’m sure there would be gossip all over the house. Some would probably hit the Internet.

It had been stupid to fall asleep in bed with her. After fucking her from behind, we’d made love again, lay entwined in each other’s limbs, and talked the rest of the night until we fell asleep. I banged on the door. “Carmen?”

“I’m washing up and then leaving.”

“Can we talk for a few minutes?” I asked. “I can come inside the bathroom.”

“I need a day or so to clear my mind.”

“Just five minutes,” I begged.

The shower turned on. She said nothing else. The noise of spraying water filled the air. Snoring came behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and stared at the disgusting image of my father. Drool leaked out of his cracked lips.

Why couldn’t you have just stayed wherever you were? I leaned my head on the door and inhaled, hoping to get a scent of Carmen, if only for the last time. Her rosy perfume lingered in the air as my gut twisted unto itself.

She’d already been against sleeping with me due to Dad. His coming into the room and shaming her wouldn’t help. Now she’d think that it was all just a conquest. Carmen?

Making love to her surpassed anything in my life. That soft body ensnared me. There’d be no other. And with a few nasty words from Dad and his surprise blow up, there’d be no more time with Carmen either.

Could I turn all of this around? Does she really just need time?

Chapter 9

Of Wind and Leaves

Carmen

When I got out of the shower, Adrian already gone to his room and left his father passed out on the bed. I rushed to pack my things, called a cab, and got out of there fast. Adrian never stopped me. No phone calls or text messages came from him the next day or the day after that.

Days passed.

Some nights, I peeked out of the window and searched for him in the cars across the street. I had no idea how I would feel if I’d ever really caught him stalking me. One thing I had to admit was that part of me hoped he lingered in the shadows outside. The logical part thanked God that I never spotted him.

Adrian and I could never be.

There were so many red flags—his stalking me, his mommy issues, the desperate need of therapy, and the sexual relationships with Nick’s women. What was he getting out of sleeping with them? Did he really hate his father that much? Was Adrian just as alone as Nick, hoping for some feminine being to touch him one more time?

Tags: Kenya Wright Billionaire Romance
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