On His Terms

○×24: nasty prepositions & lunatic exes○×

<My c**k or your casino?>

|Kian|

I RECOILED in shock. That voice, I knew its owner. Even as I registered that annoying fact, the first act of instinct my body performed was to shield Jade's naked body from the onlooker. Protect her dignity from prying eyes that were not mine.

But it was no need, as Jade had already roused from her lust induced slumber. Fast as a hare, she slipped out of my hold, scooped her robe up and shimmied into it. Then, as swift as I could say fuck, she'd sought for escape, the banging of her room's door echoing loud and clear.

Shit. There went my plans of having a good time.

Raising myself up, I circled around to meet the fool who'd dared to interrupt my making out session.

Rina fucking ex-wife.

She regarded me through narrow eyes, an expression that was akin to loathe and lust masking her face. A glint of arousal shined in those malicious orbs of hers as she raked a scathing glance at my hard-on. Her piercing scrutiny made my skin crawl and my erection softened.

"What are you doing here?" I wrapped the forgotten towel around my torso, infuriated that I had been cockblocked once more. What was the problem with people and wrong timing? And how the fuck had Rina made her way in? To think I had competent security officers.

"Is that what you do now? Sleeping with black whores? What double standards you have!" A crazed look manned her sneering face, her handbag flinging with the force she'd used to propel it at me.

I took a step aside, the bag whizzing past my head and hitting the wall behind me with a dull thud.

Whores. She had just called Jade a whore. A two cent prostitute. My vision altered, distorted into a kaledioscope of murderous rage but I took a deep breath and maintained my aloofness. "Actually the right question should be, how did you get in here?"

Forcing myself to do the sensible thing by not dragging her out myself and generating the scene she desperately wished for, I ambled to the bar to pour myself a glass of whiskey. An intercom was mounted underneath the counter and I pressed it. The earlier she got away from my sight, the probability I wouldn't be heading to jail this morning.

Setting a glass cup before me, I uncapped a wine bottle. "The guards will be here soon so I suggest you start talking as to how you made your way in."

She cat-walked, hourglass figure decked up in a mini-gown and diddled up close to me, her harsh perfume permeating the entire room, effectively dispersing the effects of the floral one I'd been inhaling earlier. "Your dad helped me in."

I paused while cramming the tumbler full with red wine, a tick in my rigid jaw. "What did you say?"

Rina smirked, a corner of her red red lips lifting to reveal flawless white teeth. "Yes, your dad was such a kind man to let me know the code to your penthouse since you didn't want me to know."

I averted my gaze, motionless, stifling thoughts running rampant in the confines of my head. That old fucker. I knotted my fist. The gall. The shocking effrontery he possessed. What the fucking hell was wrong with Richard?

When I tipped my face in her direction, all emotions swept away, I said in a neutral tone, "Okay."

Then I gulped a mouthful of the intoxicating wine, washing down all the churning feelings of fury and hate deep down in that deep, dark side of my battered soul.

That wasn't the reaction she yearned to coin out from me, so she jabbed still, her voice pitched in unconcealed mockery, "I know you're angry and you should be. But we can solve it. Fuck it out."