Wildest Dreams: Chapter 40

Ping.

Ping.

Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping.

The annoying sound tapped its way into my skull like a beak in impressively quick succession. Sunrays filtered through the shutters, warming up my skin. Birds chirped outside my window.

I stretched in my bed, last night’s events slowly trickling their way back into my consciousness. Tucker hurt Gravity. I’d cried close to all night in Rhyland’s arms. Then, when I finally managed to get my shit together, he asked if he could stay over, and I said no.

Why did I say no?

Because you are falling in love with him, and sooner or later, he is going to break your heart. No part of him wants a relationship. He’s made that very clear. And the last thing a newly minted billionaire who looks like a Greek god needs is a single mom, a toddler child who’s not his, and the baggage you come with.

This thought was punctuated by six more pings. My phone was blowing up on the nightstand. I reached to grab it and was immediately alarmed by the river of text messages that kept on flowing in real time. I saw Row’s name as well as Cal’s and Kieran’s.

Row sent an attachment.

Row sent an attachment.

Row sent an attachment.

Row: Explain??

Row: Why do you want me to commit murder, Dylan?

You know I’m a family man.

Cal: THIS, from a woman who claims to be my bff.

Row: I’m flying back to New York RIGHT. FUCKING. NOW.

Cal: I am never going to not be mad at you for keeping this from me btw.

Cal: I am so disappointed you didn’t tell me.

Kieran: You are in so much trouble, sweetheart.

Kieran: Offer still stands if you want to do some damage control by marrying a man who is not the biggest man-whore on the planet.

Heart pounding, sight blurry, I clicked on the attachments my brother had sent. Three pictures came into focus. They were almost identical and showed me and Rhyland in my living room yesterday, my legs wrapped around his waist, his hand shoved down the front of my jeans, obviously fingering me. My fingers were greedily clutching the back of his head, bringing him in to deepen our dirty, tongue-filled kiss.

With a sigh of exasperation, I fell back on the pillow, covering my eyes with my arm and groaning.

My entire social circle had pretty much seen stills of a sex tape of mine.

And then another.

Row: How did Tucker get my number?

My guess was that the picture had been sent to the three of them simultaneously. Tucker knew my closest circle—Cal, Row, and Kieran. He must’ve grabbed their contacts during one of the million times my phone was there in plain sight when we had a shift at the Alchemist together, still unlocked from when I’d been messing with it. He was just waiting for the opportunity to do something like this and ruin things for me.

Tucker knew this was going to detonate my world, and he felt vengeful.

An incoming call from Cal made my phone dance in my hand. I swiped the screen, holding my breath and bracing myself.

“Young lady, explain yourself,” my best friend demanded.

“It’s nothing serious, okay?” I said grumpily, rubbing my eyes with a yawn. “We played pretend for Bruce Marshall, and somewhere along the way…well, we decided to enjoy the perks.”

“Is getting shot in the ass a perk?” my brother demanded from beside Cal.

Oh great. I was on speaker.

“Because that’s the kind of bonus Rhyland’s about to deal with.”

A part of me—and not a small one—wanted to apologize for my behavior. For the elusive betrayal. But a much, much bigger part of me knew that doing so would simply give my brother more power than he already had over the situation.

I was an adult. I made decisions. Not all of them were great. But all of them were mine.

“I will hear no criticism from you.” My voice was an ice cube dragging over skin, it was so cold. The other end of the line was silent. “I did not break any bond with you, any secret bro code. I am your sister. I love you to death, Ambrose, but you have to stop pretending you have control over my life. You don’t. I will fuck whoever I want, however much I want, wherever I want. I will not ask for permission, and I sure as hell won’t answer to you. Are we clear?”

My brother grunted on the other end of the line. “Fine. Fine. I’ll stop pushing. It’s just…it’s hard, okay?” Another dark growl. “It’s a force of habit. I spent my entire childhood terrified Dad was going to hurt you. Somewhere along the way, I convinced myself that if you listened to me, things would be…okay, you know?”

“I know.” My voice softened, but my anger remained. “Still, Row. Enough is enough.”

“I’ve been doing very well these past few years, though, haven’t I? I barely boss you around.”

“You shouldn’t be bossing me around at all.”

“Well, there is my shitty personality to take into account.”

Cal snorted. “How’d it all start—this thing with Rhy? Is it serious?”

“We just…I don’t know, got very comfortable around each other,” I confessed. The alternative—telling them I propositioned him the day I got here—was not ideal. “And no, it’s not serious. Rhyland is gearing up for some big things, and so am I. A relationship doesn’t fit in with them.”

“Does this mean what I think it means?” Row asked.

“Yeah,” I said, biting down on my lower lip. “I think. It’s time I spread my wings, you know? Go to college. Even if it’s hard, it’ll give me and Grav a better future. And it’ll teach her to chase her dreams.”

“I’m so fucking proud of you.” Row’s voice cracked. “But I’m still going to kill Rhy, FYI.”

Cal squealed. “I’ve always wanted a doctor in the family! I have so many shady spots on my body. And I could really use a monthly boob check for lumps.”

“I check your boobs for lumps twice a day,” Row protested.

“Um, no, honey. If you did, you wouldn’t be concentrating solely on the nipples.”

“Way too much info.” I cringed. “Besides, I haven’t been accepted for anything yet.”

“You will be,” Cal said confidently. “You’re the smartest person I know.”

“Da fuck, Dot?” Row protested.

“You’re the hottest, sweetie.”

“So…” I stood up and padded out to the hallway, dropping my voice so as not to wake my daughter. “Are you guys…not mad anymore? Because I didn’t really give you much of an explanation, just told you to screw off.”

“You’re off the hook in my eyes,” Cal confirmed. “Of course, I owe you from that time I banged your brother behind your back when we were teenagers.”

“Too true. You did that too, Row.”

“I’m aware. I was there,” he allowed grumpily.

I entered Grav’s room. Pressed a hand to her forehead while she slept. It was cool and dry. Thank you, Jesus.

“As I said, you’re off the hook, but Rhyland isn’t,” Row lamented. “He broke the code and deserves a good beating.”

I sighed. “Can you please refrain from ruining his face? He’s too pretty.”

“Clearly. That’s what got us into this whole mess.”

No. What got me into this mess was the fact that he had an amazing personality on top of being handsome.

“Any other requests?” Row asked.

“Yeah.” I toyed with a lock of my hair, putting it between my lips and chewing. “Protect the crown jewels, Row. I really like them.”

“Too late. I’m going to dethrone the motherfucker.”

Rhyland: We need to talk.

Dylan: Please don’t tell me you’re pregnant. I’m really not ready for this kind of responsibility right now. I can’t even commit to a gel manicure.

Rhyland: Okay, rude. For one thing, I don’t chip after, like, five seconds.

Dylan: Do I want to know how you got all this manicure knowledge?

Rhyland: I made a career pretending to be an attentive boyfriend. I know all about women’s woes.

Dylan: I’m guessing it’s about our leaked sex tape.

Rhyland: There’s a video too?!

Dylan: A reel. But Row tells me Tucker only shared it with friends and family.

Rhyland: He has neither.

Rhyland: Are you downstairs?

Dylan: Getting ready 2 leave. Taking Grav to the park.

Fever’s down. She’s feeling better.

Rhyland: I’ll join you.

Dylan:

Rhyland: Need me to bring anything?

Dylan: Nope. My camel toe is huge.

Rhyland: False. Your pussy lips are as perfect as the ones upstairs.

Dylan: CAMO TOTE!!!

Rhyland: Sure, Jan.

Dylan: I’m never using voice to text again.

Rhyland: Why? Your oral skills are fantastic.

Dylan: You’re not humping.

Rhyland: I’ve a feeling I will be tonight…

Dylan: HELPING!!!

Rhyland: You know, predictive text says a lot about the words we use on an everyday basis.

Dylan: I hate you.

Rhyland: Was that autocorrect?

Dylan: No. That was a fart.

Rhyland: Bless you, Cosmos. I’m glad we’ve reached that level of intimacy.

Dylan: FACT.

Rhyland: