King of Pride

The suite, the redness of her cheeks, the late hour…

Dear God, my mother had a lover.

I couldn’t change the way other people perceived me, but I could change the way I lived my life.

There was no growth without risk, no progress without change.

There was comfort in the familiar, even if the familiar sucked. Being small was easier than putting myself out there for other people to judge.

My heart gave another wrench at the thought of Kai and what I had to do, but I pushed it aside.

Don’t worry about that until you have to.

“Do you think you would’ve enjoyed your time with him, Isabella?” I asked softly. “Would you have screamed for him like you did for me when I had my fingers buried inside your sweet little pussy? When you rode my hand until it was soaked with your release? I can still hear your cries, love. Every damn second of every day.”

I had more pride than that.

Men and their pride.

Even the Serb made an appearance, though he left after only a few minutes. I was surprised he’d showed at all; the unsmiling, unspeaking tycoon rarely showed his face in public. He’d joined Valhalla last year, and I hadn’t heard him talk once.

For all the girls who think smart is sexy.

(And who know the quiet ones are the freakiest).