“I’ll remind him.”
“You guys are so different, it’s hard to believe you’re brothers.”
“He’s not as smart as I am.” When Simone dug her claws into me, I got rid of her. But Coen hadn’t been so wise. He let her destroy him—handed her the knife.
“Apparently. That’s nice of you to let him stay here. I’m surprised he didn’t just crash at your hotel.”
“Paparazzi will follow him there. My building is a lot more private.”
“I guess that makes sense.”
“Do you mind if he stays here?”
She gave me an incredulous look. “This is your place. You don’t have to ask me.”
My eyes moved up and down her body again, loving the way the spandex fit her curves so perfectly. Her hourglass frame was so sexy. My hands ached to grip her tits and squeeze them until she winced. I wouldn’t be able to fuck her in the living room or on the kitchen table anymore, not while my brother shared our space. Now I would have to keep it confined to our bedroom—and that’s exactly where I wanted to go now.
But then the elevator beeped.
“That must be him,” Monroe said.
“Yep.” Our fucking would have to wait until he got settled in.
“Once Simone knows what you did, she’s probably going to go public with the truth about you.”
The thought had slipped my mind. Simone probably would tell the entire world about my fetish, and once the press dug into me a bit, they would realize it was true. That I didn’t just pay for sex one time—but hundreds of times. It was a form of prostitution, practically an institution, and I could easily go to jail for it. “Yeah. Probably.”
“What are we going to do?”
“Nothing will happen to you. It was a one-time offense. You’ll just have to pay a fine.”
“And you?” she asked.
“I’ll probably have to go to jail.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Are you serious?”
“But I could pay off the right people and avoid it altogether. Let’s not worry about that now.”
“Kinda hard not to…”
My arm circled her waist, and I pressed a kiss to her hairline. “Even if she goes public, the cops will probably look the other way.”
“Why would they? You’re breaking the law.”
“Because I’m their biggest donor. My contributions make up the majority of their funding. Without me, widows wouldn’t be taken care of, kids wouldn’t have scholarships…the list goes on. It’s in their best interest to keep me out of jail—even if I am guilty.”
“Is that why you donate to their organization? Just in case something like this happened?”
I walked to the elevator and watched the button light up when Coen reached our floor. “Yes.” I didn’t do it out of the goodness of my heart. I did it for insurance—just in case one of my girls turned on me.
Monroe didn’t look pleased with that information.
The doors opened and Coen was revealed, holding a collection of suits on hangers with a bag at his side.
Monroe smiled as she greeted him. “Nice to see you again, Coen. Let me get your bag.”
I grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “No.” I pulled the bag off his shoulder and placed it over mine. “Come in, Coen.”
My brother stepped inside, five suits on hangers to get him through the week. “Hey, Monroe.”
“Did you see Simone?” I asked, assuming he’d gotten all this stuff from his apartment.
“No. The maid gave everything to me. She wouldn’t even let me come inside.” Even though his assets were secured, he still looked grief-stricken. Even though the entire thing had been a scam, he loved Simone, so the wound was still fresh and festering.
“Bitch,” Monroe whispered under his breath.
“No,” Coen said. “It’s pretty clear I’m the bitch.”
I smiled at the self-loathing. “So she doesn’t know about the prenup.”
“Not yet. I’m excited to see her face when I tell her.”
“That makes two of us.” Now that she’d shown her true colors, there was no going back. She’d put in the last five years for this reward—but now she wouldn’t be getting a cent. “You’ll be upstairs. I’ll show you.” I took him up the stairs to the second floor. There was another living room, a piano, a small kitchen, and a few bedrooms. I took him to a master bedroom and set his bag on the bed. “The kitchen is stocked, so help yourself to whatever you want.”
“Thanks.” He hung up the suits in the closet then sat on the edge of the bed. With dullness in his eyes and pain in his expression, he seemed numb to everything around him. His hands came together between his knees, and he looked eternally pained.
I didn’t know what to say to make him feel better. There were no words to heal a heart broken as much as his. “We’re downstairs if you need anything.”
“Would you like to join us for dinner?” Monroe offered.